by Lindsey Iler
“Oh, shit. Here we go,” Dixon adds to the conversation.
Marek abruptly stands and offers me his hand. “Up. Now.” Apparently, Marek doesn’t think Breaker’s as funny as I do.
“No,” I bark as I finish cleaning up my papers. “You made a mess of my stuff.”
He bends at the waist just enough to get his point across. “Stand up, Palmer, or I’ll embarrass the fuck out of you. Leave the shit on the floor. You’ll be back for it.”
We have a silent standoff in the middle of class. Byron is lecturing, and no one bats an eyelash at Marek’s obnoxious outburst. He wiggles his fingers, giving me little choice but to take his offered hand.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter under my breath.
“Afraid not, doll face.” Marek steps around Breaker, pulling me along behind him. He nods at Byron, who, along with my classmates, watch as I’m tugged into the hallway.
Marek’s tight on my back, he might as well be in my skirt with me.
“You know how ridiculous this is?” I say.
His hand presses into my chest with enough force to push me into the row of lockers. The metal screams out from my intrusion, and I plant my feet to stop myself from falling over. Marek’s body is pinned against mine before my brain has a chance to understand the rush of being manhandled and pulled from the classroom. He steps one foot between my legs, giving himself enough room to snuggle close between my thighs.
“Does it look like I’m playing around with you, Palmer?” He tucks his face close to the crook of my neck. “I helped you into your uniform, and I’m more than happy to help you out of it in the middle of this hallway.”
Marek’s palm covers most of my thigh, and he inches it further up. With his hand hidden under the plaid fabric, warmth spreads like a summer day, and I find myself slipping into a comfortable ease, letting the feeling of him overtake me. He kisses my neck like it will be his last time, and he needs one more taste.
“Marek,” I moan, digging my nails into the back of his black blazer.
Movement catches my eye, drawing my attention away from Marek’s eager touch. Julia Webb, a freshman, is shuffling down the hallway in some kind of stupor.
We share the same study hour, and I’ve noticed her absence in the library the past few days. No one seems to know where she’s been. Seeing her is a relief, because, until this exact moment, I haven’t even realized I’ve been waiting to see her missing poster on the news.
Marek senses my mood change. He stills and checks over his shoulder to see what’s startled me.
“Is that Professor Webb’s daughter?” he whispers.
Even though she’s almost on top of us, Julia doesn’t acknowledge the presence of anyone other than herself. It’s like she doesn’t see us. Dark circles rim her eyes, and she staggers like her feet are heavy. Maybe she’s had the flu.
I step around Marek, grabbing Julia’s hand before she gets too far away. “You okay?”
She twitches, backing away from me and my worry. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look it.” I inspect the skin exposed around her uniform and spot a bruise on her thigh and a light scratch on her throat. “Did someone hurt you?”
“They’re all trying to hurt me,” she mumbles. Her eyes cut to Marek. She spins around and darts down the hallway.
Marek wraps his arm around my waist, twisting me into his grasp. “Now, where were we?” He leans back to give him full vantage of my eyes. Hunger spreads over his flawless face, and a grin so wild appears. He grabs my hips and hoists me around his middle, and my feet clasp behind him.
“Whatever your plan is, I’m not in the mood anymore.” I stare down the hall, trying to make sense of my unease.
“Because of that? She’s probably been on a bender for the last few days. The freshman class is notorious for it. What’s it going to take to get you back in this head space with me?” He pins me between him and the wall, dropping his hold on my body, using his torso to keep me in place. With ease, he undoes the top button on my blouse, dipping low to kiss the curve of my bra.
Naturally, my hands slip to his hair, tugging on the ends. When he lifts his eyes to mine, a viciously sexy grin softens parts of me I’d prefer to stay hard in Marek’s presence.
A tug makes me look down. “What are you doing?” His hands grip the opening of my blouse, putting a little tension on the fabric like he’s going to rip open the remaining buttons. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“What are the stakes, Palmer? You want to play games? Dare me? Then what do I win?” He spins us around and lays me down on one of the display boxes full of trophies and accolades for students. “And your body isn’t the prize.”
I’m rolled over onto my stomach, the cool glass hitting my chest and forcing goose bumps over my skin. Marek’s body pressing into my center is intoxicating. At any minute, someone could walk by and see us in this position. I wiggle enough to prove how exhilarating the idea is to me.
He grabs my braid, wrapping it around his fingers, and tugs tightly. “Does that excite you, to know we could be caught out here?” Without warning, my skirt is flipped up, and a breeze skims over my thong-clad ass. “That someone could see me doing this?”
Marek’s arm tucks under my body, lifting my hips towards the ceiling. From this position, I’m certain he has quite the view. The ‘barely there’ underwear is pulled to the side, and the soft surface of his tongue on me has me jolting forward. I want to crawl away, too consumed by the sensation of exposure. Marek does a good job of keeping me in place, his arm holding me right where he wants me.
“You’re sweet.” His tongue laps across me. “Just like your sister.”
The mention of Reed should throw me off, scatter my brain, except I’m learning something about being around Marek. I’m not who I thought I was. Maybe I’ve been living this life for everyone else. The good girl. The scholar. The princess.
Marek makes me believe it’s possible to explore the uncharted parts of my soul. Repercussions don’t exist in Marek’s world, only freedoms.
I pull myself up on all fours, giving Marek’s arm a break. Staring at him over my shoulder, I let go and drop the wall and be the girl I want to be under his watch. He smiles because he knows what I’ve just done. Willingly handing myself over to Marek means something. He could rip the heart from my chest, and despite knowing that, I spread my legs wider.
“They have you all wrong, don’t they, doll?” His thumb runs over my seam, using my arousal to run soft circles on my clit. “You aren’t porcelain. You aren’t innocent.”
A zipper lowering echoes through the empty hallway, foil rips, and with one push, I’m full. The display case is the perfect height for Marek’s position. I shift my hips back in rhythm with him. He groans, and his face contorts with pure satisfaction. My walls clench, leading him to a finish. This isn’t about me, and we both know the truth in that.
Marek may have dragged me into this hallway to prove a point, but my lack of resistance isn’t pointless.
With a grunt, Marek’s movements slow. He’s finished. There’s a tightness at my hips and the deafening sound of ripping fabric. He pulls out of me, using my panties to clean me. My skirt is smoothed down as if it has never been up.
I sit up on the glass, cross my legs, and spin to face a sated Marek. A condom is thrown into the trash can, and my panties disappear into his pocket.
“A souvenir.” He bites his lip.
“Like you need one.” I hop down from the case and stand chest-to-chest with the boy who has a little devilish gleam in his eyes. “Are you like a sex addict or something?”
His lips drop to my cheek and graze over the bone. “Just because you enjoy something on a physical and psychological level doesn’t make you an addict.”
“That is, in fact, the definition of an addiction, Marek.” I hold back a laugh.
Our easy banter is a surprise. We’re all intense and broody one minute, and the next feels like we are friends.
/> He leans forward again, kissing my neck. “Well, then consider me a junkie.”
“There’s a certain kind of power in sex, Marek, and now I know where your weak spot is.” I consciously regulate my breaths to hide the effect he has on me.
“Think what you want, Palmer. When it comes to sex, you may think I’m weak, but you’re the lamb, and I’m the lion.” He twirls a loose tendril of hair around his finger, then steps away from me. “Let’s not forget that.”
I grab his arm, stopping him from leaving. “I’m no lamb.”
“Let’s hope not, but in case you are, you’d be smart to remember this bit of advice.” He skirts right by me, never giving me the kiss I’m desperate for. “Don’t ever let your lips get that close to Breaker’s again, do you hear me?” he calls out, slipping back into the classroom.
Touché, Marek Hawthorne. Touché.
I am stupid for believing I had the upper hand in this hallway, bare and exposed, using the one thing I’d thought could blind him. But damn, if I’m not wrong. Even when I’d spread my legs for him, he was the one controlling my movements.
A dark shadow hits the corner of my peripheral, and I turn to find the hallway empty. Startled, I quicken my steps to catch up to Marek. After what happened to Delaney at the club, I’ve been a little on edge. Now, seeing Julia has me back in that place I was a year ago but more aware than ever that things aren’t what they seem to be here on campus.
Reed always told me if my instinct screams something is wrong, then it is. Fight or flight is engrained into who we are. Her dorm room was an indication of the level of fight she possessed. If I was like her in that aspect, I’d follow the shadow that seems to be lingering around every corner. I guess I’m more of a flight kind of girl.
“Palmer!” Byron’s voice breaks through the deep fog in my brain.
“What?” I snap my head up to find the entire class watching me.
“You going to take your seat, or just stand in the middle of the classroom for the rest of the hour?” His remark earns him a few snickers, but his face grows serious. As I pass, he stops me. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?” I pull my arm away from him.
“You look like a lamb before slaughter, Palmer.” He leans forward, nearly putting his lips to my ear. “This day . . . I understand, is all.”
With strong, determined posture, I roll my shoulders back and take my seat nestled between Breaker and Marek. Class continues like nothing has happened. Marek and Breaker’s papers are full of notes, while mine lays empty. My stare stays glued to Byron. He comes across as educated and eager to teach this class, but there’s something hidden inside of him, deep in his eyes, no one would dare to notice. When we aren’t willing to look deeper than the shallow brown pools, the truth stays hidden.
Byron turns from the chalkboard, locking his gaze on me. I fidget, knowing he’s addressing the class without dropping his attention from me. I break my eyes from Byron for a second and see the flat line of Marek’s lips. His spine is straight and almost as tight as the lines on his forehead. He worries his bottom lip, watching Byron taking me in, sinking further into his seat when he’s caught.
“Neglect kills injuries, revenge increases them,” Byron says to the class. “Does anyone know who said this?”
Everyone is silent, looking around for someone to chime in.
“Benjamin Franklin,” I call out.
“And do you know what he meant by those words, Miss Weston?” Byron stalks towards our row of desks.
“I assume he meant that if you don’t address those who have wronged you, then nothing will be proven to your enemies. If you’re willing to seek revenge, then it’s only a matter of time until blood will be shed.”
“You’re a smart girl.” Byron turns away but sneaks a look over his shoulder. His eyes cut to each of us. “Now, the question I have for all of you is, do we believe his words?”
Breaker’s gaze is cutting through me, straight to Marek, while Dixon’s is homed in on his brother. Marek’s, well, his is where it always seems to be these days. On me.
The bell rings, prompting everyone to gather their things and head to their next class. Byron takes his rightful place at the desk at the front. Dixon jumps over the row of desks to whisper something in his ear. Byron’s back tightens.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” Breaker asks, tossing a strap of his bag over his shoulder.
“Why are you looking at me? I don’t have any plans. It’s Monday, which typically means Delaney and I will be in front of one of our televisions watching shitty reality shows.”
“You have plans now,” Marek announces, dropping a not-so-subtle kiss on my cheek. “We’ll be there to pick you up at eight. We could all use the distraction.”
“Curfew on the weekdays is nine. What could we possibly do for an hour?” I question.
“One, we don’t have a curfew.” Breaker laughs, convincingly. “Two, bring Delaney along. Something tells me she misses me.” He winks and walks away backwards, keeping a cute smile on his face until he disappears from the room.
“See you later, Palmer,” Marek says over his shoulder as he follows Breaker.
There’s no way to know how I’m meant to feel. One thing I’m certain of is how domineering Marek is. He asks, and I hand over. There had been no uprising while he’d decided how I’d be spending my evening. Instead, I stood silent, agreeing with everything he said. He knew it, too. He’s also not the only one.
Frustrated with myself and my inability to hold my own ground, I jam my notebook in my bag and head down the steps for the door.
Byron blocks my exit. “He’s into you, Palmer, but you and I both know you aren’t the girl for him. You’re not built like Reed.”
“You don’t know what I’m built out of, Mr. Decatur.” I shove my shoulder into him, clearing a space for my body and dignity.
Though I stupidly choose to spend time with Marek, that choice doesn’t automatically give the rest of them permission to thrust themselves into my life. I’m not like Reed in that regard.
“Palmer,” Byron calls out. The heavy fall of his expensive loafers hit the tiled floor as he jogs towards me. “Here’s a note for your next teacher. You’re going to be late.”
“Excuse me?” I snap the letter from his hand. Sure enough, it’s a tardy slip.
“You’re going to want to head to your dorm and get dressed.” He smirks, proving his arrogance with the lift of a brow. “Quite the view from the whiteboard, Palmer.” His eyes skim to the front of my plaid skirt. “Not as if it’s something I haven’t already seen, but still a nice treat for my morning.”
“You put such a sour taste in my mouth sometimes, Byron.” I twist on my heels, attempting to escape.
“And you taste like candy on my tongue.” At the want dripping from his disgusting compliment, I check over my shoulder to catch him shrug. Subconsciously, I cover the front of my skirt, knowing damn well he’s been between my legs.
I groan heavily, not trying to hide the disdain and displeasure this man brings out of me. All he can do is smirk.
Heavy steps carry me away from him in a fit of anger. I slam through the door, needing to put space between us. Every time he looks at me, I’m disgusted with myself for ever falling for his charm.
Out in the fresh air, I’m able to take the full breath I’ve been needing.
I spot Dixon leaning against a brick half-wall, his eyes dead set on me. His lips don’t pull up in the corners. Looking every bit of a threat I’m afraid he is, he may as well be made of the stone his foot is propped on.
I twist my neck from side to side, expecting to see Marek and Breaker close by, and I’m confused by the rush of irritation when I don’t.
For whatever reason, these four boys have become far too concerned with my whereabouts. With slow steps, I continue down the path that leads to the dorms. I check my surroundings twice to find the gap between Dixon and me hasn’t changed. He follows me at a safe distan
ce until I click my pin number and slam the door behind me.
With my back against the metal, I release the breath I’m holding.
I’m certain of a few things.
Dixon is a puzzle I’m not sure I want to solve.
Byron is an ice-cold son of a bitch, unable to melt a fraction.
Breaker is becoming someone I trust.
Marek is thawing me out, and my intentions for being near him are blurring faster than I’ve ever expected.
The one thing I’m not certain of is what I mean to them.
Chapter Eight
Marek
“Where do you think they’re taking us?” Delaney says under her breath as if we can’t hear her. I’ve heard quieter gun shots.
Didn’t these girls’ parents ever teach them a damn thing about self-preservation and safety? They shouldn’t be following us into the woods, and yet, I hear their footsteps close behind.
“You don’t think they’d kill us, do you?” Palmer asks. She doesn’t try to mask her question. Her boldness makes me snicker. This girl is something else.
“What do you think’s in the backpack?” Delaney whispers, a hint of worry in her tone I’m sure is making Breaker hard as cement.
“You ever hear of the myth of these woods?” Breaker’s eyes cut to me as I stop walking. He hands over his bag.
I bend down and unzip the large compartment, feeling the cool glass bottles.
“Yes.” Delaney walks towards Breaker, leaving Palmer alone.
“I’ve never . . .” Palmer whispers, watching me as I remove the liquor. From where she’s standing, she strains to see them.
“The myth is that, back in the eighties, four teenagers came out here, got raging drunk, and only one of them came out alive.” I stand with a fifth in my hand. “How about we see which one of us makes it out tonight?”
“My money’s on me.” Delaney jerks the bottle from my hands, twists the top off, and takes a long swig.
