Anarchy (Hive Trilogy Book 2)

By: Jaymin Eve & Leia Stone

Chapter 1


My scream sounded slightly hysterical at this point. I knew I needed to pull myself together. It was just a date, for freak’s sake. Sure, it was a date with Ryder, who was probably the hottest ash on the planet, but it wasn’t like I’d never been on a date before. I needed to pull my shit together immediately and there was no one better to help me with that than my BAFF. Best ash friend forever came with certain requirements, and first date help was at the top of the list.

Jayden’s eyelashes entered the room first. Those luscious lashes were like a damn foot long, and my boy knew how to flutter them for full effect. Behind them were coal-black eyes, with a slight ring of silver. Ash eyes. Which looked hot as heck on the chocolate-skinned stunner who was my best friend. He ground to a halt a foot inside my room, hand dramatically slamming to his hips.

“Hell to the freaking no, Charlie. You will not leave the house in that! Over my dead, well-dressed body.”

I sighed and somehow stopped myself from rolling my eyes at him. “Dude, I did not scream because I needed your help choosing—”

“You need more than my help, girl, you need a mutha-freaking intervention. Jeans, Converse, and a tank is not date material. It’s Ryder. Did you forget that you were possibly going to have the chance to fuc–”

“Jayden!” My horrified snort of laughter cut him off this time. “I need you to help with my hair, just my hair.”

He strode the rest of the way across and plonked himself down onto my bed, his muscled biceps looking even more prominent than usual. Someone had been doing more than just chasing Oliver through the weights room.

“Nope, no way in all hell. We make a deal right here and now. I will do your hair and makeup, have you looking like the second hottest ash bitch in this Hive, but I also get to choose three outfits for you, and you must wear one of the three.”

This time my eyes were rolling, there was no way to stop them. He was so damned dramatic. I studied myself in the mirror, not really seeing what was so wrong with my outfit. I’d gone for sexy comfort, not knowing where we were going tonight. Besides, Ryder seemed to like me exactly the way I was, even with my Tomb Raider style of dress. It was just my hair, which was a freaking mess of weirdly shaped curls. I couldn’t use a curling iron to save my life. Looked like I was going to have to compromise tonight.

I met Jayden’s eyes in my mirror and gave him my best resting bitch face. “Okay, find your three outfits, and if you even mention nipple pasties this time, I will personally show Oliver that photo of you from when you were fourteen.”

His eyes widened. “You wouldn’t. I had acne and braces and weird lanky arms and legs. That’s the shittiest best friend move ever.”

I shrugged. “You’ve given me no choice but to play hardball.”

The slightest of grins tipped up his lips. “You win this round. I will choose three Charlie-approved outfits for you, then we can work on that horror hair you have going on there. Shit, girl, I hope I have enough time. How long until your date?”

Ryder was taking me out at midnight. We were on Hive time, which was geared toward awake at night and asleep for a lot of the daylight hours. “Two hours,” I said to Jayden.

He was suddenly up, and in a flurry of energy stormed to my closet and started flicking through the hangers and drawers. I remained where I was. I’d seen him like this many a time; he was on a fashion warpath and it was safer to stay on the sidelines until he was ready for me. My stomach clenched in anticipation then. It really didn’t matter what I wore, I was so ready for this date tonight.

One hour and forty-five minutes later I gave myself one last look in the mirror. Jayden had out-freaking-done himself tonight. There were no nipple pasties and I was really happy with my outfit: skintight black jeans that had to have been custom made, they hugged my legs and cupped my butt perfectly, Jayden was probably creeping in my bedroom at night and taking my measurements or something. But I was not going to complain. The jeans were topped off with a deep, rich purple top hanging dangerously low off one shoulder, exposing my black bra and draping across my figure nicely. It was tight enough to be fitted, but loose enough that I didn’t feel uncomfortable or exposed. Black ankle boots added three inches to my five-feet-seven. Team that with the bottle of O-negative blood I drank and I was ready for a date.

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