He puts his palms on either side of me and pulls back just enough to grin.

The Backstreet Boys' Everybody (Backstreet's Back) music video is playing on the giant screen behind Windsor, the Halloween theme oh-so-appropriate for the occasion. I'm not really looking at it, though. No, I'm looking at a prince, and his dilated pupils, and the slight sheen of moisture on his lower lip from kissing me.

"You worry too much, milady. Relax. I planned this all for you."

He kisses me again, and my heart tumbles inside my chest. It was a like a dream when he waltzed into the academy, declared me the most beautiful girl in school, and took up my mantle of revenge as his own. But there are two sides to every coin, and I'm wondering what's going to happen when Windsor's flips.

Later, when most of the partygoers are drunk, I'm sitting with Zayd and Creed in one of the game rooms, playing a round of poker. The stakes this time are pretty small comparatively. Whichever guy wins gets to take me on a date next weekend (which makes me nervous as hell). But if I win, I get to take them both. Pretty sure that this is a win-win-win scenario for me, and I'm okay with that.

After a while, I start to notice that the room is emptying out.

That's what makes me nervous.

Once our game finishes—I win, boys, sorry—I head out into the main hall and find Harper screaming in Tristan's face.

"Where the fuck are my friends, you psycho?" she shouts, and someone turns the music down. Tristan simply stands there with his fingers in his pockets. Lizzie's on one side of him, and Windsor's on the other.

Creed and Zayd exchange a look.

"What the hell is going on?" I ask them, spinning around and feeling this strange tightness in my throat. Obviously, I want my revenge. I just don't want things to get as dark as they did on the lake.

"We have to make a stand to protect you," Zayd explains, voice soft. "But we don't want you to have to dig so deep. This is Club business, and you shouldn't have to get involved."

I turn back around as Zack unlocks the door on the opposite side of the entryway.

The Company stumbles out, cursing and shouting. Every single one of them was in there, other than Harper.

And … they're all bald.

Like totally and completely bald.

My mouth drops open and I clamp both hands over my mouth. Harper sees them all and shrieks one of her pterodactyl shrieks. That's before Tristan and Windsor grab her by the arms and push her down into one of the chairs. Lizzie steps up with a buzzer in hand while Harper screams.

Several of Harper's cronies rush forward to help, but Zayd, Creed, Zack, Myron, and even Andrew step in to hold them back. The Plebs are eating this drama up with a spoon, and I notice not a single one of them steps in to help or hurt the situation.

"Miranda," I whisper as she grabs my arm, eyes wide. She glances over at me, but I can see she knows about as well as I do what's going on here.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Harper screams as Lizzie buzzes her hair clean off her head. Sheets of shiny, beautiful extensions falling into her pleather-clad lap. "I'm going to send a hitman after your shared whore!"

I don't react to that. In the past, I might've cringed, or felt ashamed, or … something. Tonight, I … I'm not sure what I feel. I move up to stand in front of her, waiting as Lizzie finishes her gruesome chore and steps back, turning off the buzzer.

Harper's so mad that she's spitting.

If she hadn't tried to kill me—or wasn't threatening to kill me now—I might feel sorry for her. I'm a little pissed at the guys for not telling me their plan though.

We'll talk about it later.

Windsor and Tristan release Harper, and she stands up, touching her hands to her bristly head. There's pure fury in her eyes as she looks at me, and I can tell I've become the sole source and focus of her hatred.

Maybe because I'm an easy target?

"Do you have any idea of the mistake you've just made?" Harper sneers, so angry that she's shaking. Some of the Company boys look like they might start a fight with us, but then they look around and remember whose house they’re standing in and change their minds. "I hope your little whore is worth it," Harper says, looking from one of my boys to the other, "and don't think we don't know that you're all dating her."

"We never tried to hide that," Creed says, stepping forward in his watermelon costume. By all rights, he should look ridiculous, but with that little cutout that reveals his abs, his beautiful white-blond hair, and those ice-blue eyes of his, he's anything but. Actually, the look on his face is the same one he wore when he was fighting Derrick Barr, and when he was confronting Greg and John in the woods. This is his take no shit, fighting face. "In fact, we're all quite proud," he drawls as he moves over to stand beside me, curling an arm around my waist. "Because even if we're all dating her at the same time, that means we're not dating you."

Harper ignores him, sweeping out the front door with her cronies at her heels. John flips us off and curses us all out before heading down the steps and climbing into his Aston Martin. There's the sound of peeling rubber and churning gravel, and then silence.

Tristan scans his blade gray gaze over the crowd, and smirks.

"You're either with the Bluebloods, or you're against us. You're here with the Idols and our Inner Circle, or you're not." Tristan and Creed exchange a glance before Tristan continues speaking. "Just remember: they've closed ranks, and we're still recruiting."

Tristan nods his chin, the music starts up, and the party goes on.

Miranda gives me a look, grabs my hand, and pulls me onto the dance floor. Maybe, like me, she knows there'll be time to talk later. Right now, I'm not sure if I'm frustrated with the boys or flattered by what they've done for me.

It's always nice to feel protected; I just don't want that feeling to come at a price that’s too high to pay.

Despite all the partying and the drama, Burberry Preparatory Academy is the best high school in the country, and even students like Zayd and Windsor are full-up on coursework and extracurricular activities. Students like me and Tristan are completely swamped.

It takes me almost an entire week to get a moment to talk to the boys as a group. Creed and I have a study session in the library, and I invite the others to join us.

The five of them fan out across the long table, and it occurs to me that the way they each sit is indicative of their unique personalities. Creed slouches, Tristan sits with his back ramrod straight, Zayd kicks his heels up on the table, Windsor rests his elbows on the table and leans in close, and Zack sits with his arms folded tight across his broad chest.

I smile.

It isn’t until I start writing in my notebook again that it really hits me: I have a boyfriend. No, not just a boyfriend, five of them. Anyway, I start jotting my feelings down (and don't worry, I hide my notebook inside the cabinet of my vanity, taped to the top above a stack of towels), and it’s only then that I truly realize what I’ve gotten into.

I agreed to date these guys. Date them.

I have five freaking boyfriends.

They all have a streak of cruelty in them, a velvety stripe of darkness that's woven into their souls. The question now is: can I channel that cruelty, that darkness, into something positive?

“It's so quiet in here,” Zayd says, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the decorative copper tiles on the soaring ceiling of the library. “No wonder I never come in here. The quiet stresses me out. I like noise.”

“We’re well-aware,” Creed drawls, waving a hand lazily around. “You talk just to hear your own voice; it’s constant.”

“How about you eat a bag of dicks?” Zayd replies, grinning and flipping Creed off. I let them do their thing for a minute, and then switch off my academy-issued iPad, tucking it into my bookbag. “What are we doing here anyway?” he continues, raising his pierced brow. “We should be in The Mess having dinner at the high table. God knows, Harper and her bald buddies are probably already in there.”

I smile because come on, the term bald buddies is hilarious.

“You guys didn’t tell me what you were planning at the party,” I say, and Windsor and Zack exchange a look before the prince turns back to me.

“Do you know what bet I made to get into the Infinity Club?” he asks, tilting his head to one side, a small grin working its way across his lips. “I’d wager it’s bloody killing you that you don’t know.” I purse my lips and narrow my eyes on him.

“It may have crossed my mind a time or two.”

“Ah,” Windsor says, leaning across the table and grabbing my hand. He puts my knuckles to his lips, his hazel eyes flashing a green-gold color as his grin doubles in size. “You’re lying now, and that was one of the rules, wasn’t it? No lies?”