by Beck, J. L.
“I know you don’t want to do it, but you should. Just bite the bullet, apologize, grovel a little, and he’ll probably leave you alone.”
I blink, staring boulders through her face. She has to be high, or on some sort of drug.
“You can’t be serious?”
She nods, “I am. If you want to remove the target from your back, then you’ll have to apologize. It’s that or walk around campus worrying that he’ll come for you at any turn…”
My teeth grind together so hard my jaw starts to ache. Alice doesn’t know anything; she doesn’t understand that there is no stopping what I’ve done. Apologizing won’t fix this. This kind of hate, this kind of anger, it’s something that’s been building for years.
I’ve essentially dug my own grave by provoking him. Now it’s all about surviving, getting to the next day without being noticed. Flopping back on my bed, I stare up at the ceiling.
What the hell am I going to do?
* * *
Three days have passed since I decided to sign my own death certificate. Like a crazed person, I watch over my shoulder waiting for him to strike, but so far, nothing’s happened.
By the afternoon, I’m dreading every class I go to because I know; eventually, he’s going to be in one of them. I can’t outrun him forever. That point is proven when I walk into Biochemistry and see Parker sitting at one of the tables. A shiver runs through me from the top of my head all the way down to my toes.
I’m surprised to see another familiar face sitting right next to him. It’s the guy from brunch, Warren. I stop mid-step and stare at them as they laugh at something together. Their laughter is like acid raining down on me. I doubt him talking to me that day was a coincidence.
I can tell the moment that Parker notices I’ve entered the room because it seems to grow quieter, the air becoming heavier. He looks up at me then, not an ounce of emotion showing on his beautiful, cruel face. He expected me to be here. Somehow, he knew I was going to be in this class. I just know it.
With my throat in my stomach, I make my way to a nearby open seat. I feel vulnerable with my back to him, but there isn’t anything I can do about it. Steeling my spine, I tell myself I can do this. He’s one person, in a sea of thousands. He isn’t the first person to bully me, and he won’t be the last. I’ve considered what Alice and I talked about. Apologizing, groveling, as badly as I don’t want to, and I really don’t want to, it might be my only option.
The hair at the back of my neck stands on end, and even though there are people talking around me, all I can hear and feel is him. My body is hyper-aware of his presence like an invisible rope is tethering us to each other. Barely being able to pay any attention to the professor, I almost miss what he is saying.
“For the first half of the semester, we are going to be working in groups. Divide the work evenly. Grades will be given to groups, not individuals,” Dr. Dawson goes on, explaining how to set up and divide work within the group. I look around and watch as people are already moving and building groups of three or four people.
Shit. I must’ve been lost in thought for a lot longer than I thought.
Getting up, I walk over to the closest table. It’s a group of three girls, and they’re chatting quietly about how the class is a real pain in the ass.
“Hi, room for one more in your group?” I ask, in the friendliest way I can muster.
“Yes, but not for you,” one of the girls mumbles without even looking up at me. Blinking slowly, I take a step back toward my table. What the hell?
Another one of the girls glances up at me, a condescending sneer on her red painted lips, “Run along, we don’t want you here.” She waves me on like I’m some forsaken being, and already I can feel the steam building in my head.
I don’t know who I want to hit more right now, this chick or Parker. They might be rude, but I know for sure that Parker is the one putting them up to this. Why else would they act that way? Shaking my head, I move on to the next already formed group. I don’t even get the chance to ask a question before they all start to shake their heads, giving me an answer without even knowing what I want. By the time I reach the third group, I’m gritting my teeth, my palms clenched into tight fists.
They do a mixture of what both groups had done before, shaking their heads and shoving rude comments my way. Of fucking course. There’s only one group left… and that’s Parker’s group. Turning on my heels, I walk over to him, coming to a halt right in front of his table. I’m so close, I can smell his aftershave, clean and spicy. The scent goes straight to my head for a moment and my mouth waters. I want to kick myself for enjoying the smell, for even thinking of him in any way other than a monster. Swallowing down the thought, I hold on to the anger instead.
“I’m guessing you have something to do with this?” I question through my teeth.
Carrying on with his conversation with Warren, Parker completely ignores me. Asshole.
“Did you want me to be part of your group, is that it?” I ask, growing more irritated with him by the second.
He finally stops talking to Warren, but only long enough to turn toward me and say, “No, I don’t want you here, and neither does anyone else, I thought that much was obvious?” His dark brow lifts in question, and my mouth pops open to respond, but before I can get a word out, he’s talking again. “Shut your mouth. I wouldn’t want you to dig yourself a deeper hole, so move along… no one wants you here, least of all me.”
He dismisses me like I’m some kind of servant and turns back to Warren, who I see out of the corner of my eye is grinning from ear to ear. My cheeks heat with embarrassment. He’s a god here, and I’m a mere mortal. I’ve basically been exiled.
Fuming, I stomp back to my seat and flop down in it. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare straight ahead. Like a pouting child, I ignore the laughing and giggling within the room that is no doubt at my expense. I hate him. I hate him so much. Not just because of who he is, or our pasts. No, I literally hate him. I want to hurt him the same way he’s hurting me.
After a few minutes, Dr. Dawson looks up from his computer, and I already know what’s going to happen next. His eyes scan the room and of course, come to land on me immediately.
“You need to find a group,” he orders, his voice low, leaving no room for argument.
“I work best on my own,” I snap back.
“Too bad, this class requires a group assignment. Find a group or fail the class.” He shrugs.
“I guess I’ll be failing then,” I grit out through clenched teeth while gathering my stuff. What did Parker expect? That I would get on my knees and beg him? Fat chance. Just as I get done shoving my things into my bag, I hear Parker’s thick chuckle behind me. It’s heavy and leaves a warmth in its wake.
“Don’t be so dramatic. You can be in our group,” Parker offers, and I’m half tempted to turn around and toss my textbook in his face.
“There you go,” Dr. Dawson claps his hands together, “go sit with your group and start going over your assignment. You’ve wasted enough time.”
Fucking asshole. Grabbing my stuff, I turn around and walk over to Parker’s table. I’d rather eat glass than deal with him right now, but if I fail this class, I can’t imagine what my father will do to my sister.
It’s one class. One class, Willow. Shoving into a seat one over, so I’m not too close to Parker, I open the textbook and read over the assignment on enzymes- function, kinetics, and mechanism. The words alone give me a headache.
“I’ll do part one, Warren part two, and you can do the rest,” Parker says all matter of fact. This just keeps getting better and better. I open my mouth to protest being given sixty percent of the work when the classroom door flies open, interrupting me.
Looking up, I find yet another familiar face entering the room. Nate. Just when I thought my mood couldn’t sour any further, he walks in. Nerves root me in place, and I feel like I might throw up.
Nate and Parker have been friends forever
, but their friendship pales in comparison to the one he has with Parker’s brother, Brett. An involuntary shiver ripples through me at the thoughts assaulting me. I never liked Nate. There was a time—two years ago, to be exact—when I actually liked Parker and Brett, but after everything that happened… Yeah, no. Not going there. Even as I stare down at the textbook, I can feel Nate’s dark gaze roaming over me. He’s always given me the creeps. I guess the Rothschild brothers were better at hiding their fuck up.
Not surprisingly, Nate comes and sits with us, and the teacher doesn’t even make a comment about his tardiness.
“Willow, fancy seeing you here,” he greets, showing only a little bit of shock as he takes the chair next to me. Everything about him makes me anxious.
Without even knowing what he’s up to, I want to distance myself from him. Sitting down, he scoots even closer, so close that his thigh is touching mine. Instinctively, I slide away from him, and all the way to the corner of the table. The only reason I don’t scoot around the corner is the fact that Parker is sitting on that side. No matter the way I go, I’m screwed, so I’ll pick the least venomous of snakes.
“Hi, Nate,” I mumble and flip open my textbook. He drapes his thick arm over the back of my chair, and it takes everything in me not to recoil. I don’t know what it is about him, but I just can’t stand him. Something about his presence leaves me feeling sick. When I glance up from my book, I find Parker staring at me, a prying look in his eyes. He doesn’t seem to care about Nate sitting next to me, but he doesn’t seem to like it either.
Pushing all the thoughts that circle these guys away, I try to concentrate on the assignment, but Nate’s closeness has me on edge, even more so than Parker and Warren combined.
When the class is finally over, I can’t stuff my book into my bag quick enough. Shoving it inside, I move to shove off my chair, but I’m stopped by Nate, who rests his hand on my arm. His touch burns through my skin, and while it isn’t hurtful, I know it can be, will be. Nate doesn’t just threaten. He follows through.
“Where are you going in such a rush, sweet cheeks.”
“To another class,” I lie, stopping my lip from wobbling, “let go of me, unlike you, I don’t want to be late.”
“You don’t have another class today,” Parker pipes up with a growl, “I got your class schedule, so I know you are lying. Of course, that’s nothing new to you, right? Lying is your thing, after all.” Nevermind the fact that he called me a liar for the hundredth time, he’s now taken things to a whole new level.
“Why the hell do you have my class schedule?”
“I don’t like surprises,” he shrugs, and the dark hue of his eyes seems to lighten. “Why don’t we stay here and go over the assignment again. Nate doesn’t know which section he needs to do.” I shake my head in response. I’m not stupid. I wouldn’t stay here alone with Parker, let alone the three of them. It’s not going to happen.
All is well until I try to get up again, and Nate tightens his grip.
“You’re hurting me,” I grit out as his meaty fingers dig into my skin with a bite.
“Behave, and I won’t hurt you,” he tells me in a low voice so only we can hear.
I look around the mostly cleared out room. Two other students and the professor are the only people left, and even they are heading for the door now. For a moment, I actually think about screaming or at least asking Dr. Dawson for help, but then again, what is he going to do? Not even the police were willing to help me. No one is brave enough to stand up to the Rothschilds.
I do my best to swallow down my fear because the last thing I want them to know is that I’m truly terrified because then, like sharks in blood infested waters, they’ll attack.
The professor doesn’t even look back as he pulls the door closed behind him, leaving me alone with Parker, Warren, and Nate.
Alone in this room, I feel like a helpless lamb that’s been led into the lion’s den.
Question is; which lion from their pack will strike first?
6
Parker
Strong. Fragile. Beautiful. Willow’s fear is intoxicating, especially as she does her best to hide it. The air is thick between us, tensions so high, I’m sure everybody in class could feel it.
We’re alone in the room now. Only Willow, Warren, Nate, and I left. Thoughts of what we could do to her run wild in my mind. Every one of them pumping blood straight to my dick. I could strip her bare, taunt her, taste her, mark her beautiful skin…
Nate licks his lips, and I catch his eyes roaming down Willow’s body. I’ll bet he’s thinking of a million different things he can do to her. Not today. Not ever. He reaches out for her, and she jerks away, wincing when his fingers sink deeper into her snowy flesh. My jaw aches as my molars grind together.
“Don’t bruise her skin,” I order, “I’m the only one who gets to mark her.”
“What do you want?” Willow growls at me, baring her teeth like she is trying to intimidate me. She doesn’t seem to notice that I’ve just taken a step to protect her and instead turns her anger on me.
What do I want? I tap at my chin with my finger, acting as if I’m thinking. I already know what I want. I’ve thought about it often over the last three days. I want to hurt her. Make her pay, but I also want her body. I want to feel her come apart under my touch. I want her to scream my name with both pain and pleasure. Maybe I can combine those two?
“I told you what I wanted. I told you to leave, but you refused, so now we play my game, my way, and by my rules.” I lean into her tiny little body, breathing in her intoxicating scent. Her beautiful eyes refuse to meet mine. What a shame.
“I warned you, Willow, and now I’m going to teach you a lesson, teach you that I’m in charge here. That I’m in charge of everything, everyone… including you.”
I watch her shudder, and like the sick fuck I am, it makes me smirk.
Yes, Willow, be afraid… be very afraid.
“Nate, wait at the door and make sure no one gets in here.”
“Why can’t Warren do it?” He whines.
“’Cause I’m telling you to do it,” I snap. I also don’t like the way he looks at her like she’s some piece of meat. She is mine. To hurt, to mark. Without looking over at Warren, I know he has a shit-eating grin on his face. I’ll deal with him later, right now, I need to put on my best mask, and make sure Willow knows that I mean business.
At my word, Nate releases her with a shove and waltzes to the door, clearly irritated by my request. Too fucking bad.
“Get up,” I tell Willow as I get up from my own seat.
“No,” she growls, shaking her head. Her strength is arousing, but so is the thought of breaking her, of feeling her throbbing pulse beneath my hands.
“Get up, or I’ll make you.” I bark. At my threat, she gets up while staring daggers through me, and I’m sure if she could strike me dead with one single look, I’d be dead by now. Warren gets up as well, and walks around the table, stopping at Willow’s other side.
“Strip,” I order, just to see if she would. I won’t actually let her do it, not in front of my friends, but I want to see her reaction.
“What?!” Her eyes round with shock, her sexy little mouth popping open, and I wonder what she thinks we are going to do. Beat her up?
“You heard me. Strip, and do it slowly. I think you owe me a little show.”
Fists clenched at her side, she curls her pink lip, “I owe you nothing!”
“Strip,” I repeat, my voice harder.
“Fuck you!” She spits and I smirk. I figured she wouldn’t do it, but it’s fun to see her all worked up.
“Warren, hold her.” My words have barely left my lips when Warren is behind her, grabbing hold of her wrists. She struggles, but he overpowers her easily, pulling her arms behind her back. I step directly in front of her, grabbing onto her shoulders to immobilize her further.
“You really shouldn’t have done what you did.” Her eyes go wide with fear, b
ut I have to give her props, she doesn’t scream or cry like I expected her to. All she does is stare at me, a sneer on her lips and fire in her eyes that tells me she’s a little too proud to beg for my forgiveness right now.
With her chin held high, she opens her mouth to speak again. “Fuck you. You’re nothing but a sicko who gets off on hurting people.”
I should probably be offended by her accusation, but instead, I smirk, because the truth is, she isn’t wrong. I do get off on hurting people. People who hurt my family, people like her…
With her arms pinned behind her back, I make use of the freedom and reach for the button of her skinny jeans. If my cock weren’t already harder than steel, it would be now.
Undoing the button and zipper, I watch with calculated eyes as her whole body stiffens, her chest rising and falling rapidly, drawing my attention to her perky breasts that remain hidden underneath her sweater.
I would love to strip her bare right now, right here on the table, next to the beakers and burners in the center. To open her legs and see her pretty pussy, to find out if she’s as innocent as she looks. The only thing stopping me is my two douchebag friends being here. I don’t like them seeing too much of her, I don’t want to share what’s mine.
So instead, I do the next best thing.
With her pants undone, I slowly move my fingers just inside her waistband, listening at the uptick of her breath. Her face is a mask that I can’t penetrate, at least not yet. The soft fabric of her silky panties connects with the pads of my fingers, and I bite back a groan. I had always envisioned her to be a silk and lace kind of girl. I smirk, seeing her hardened nipples poking through the fabric of her sweater.
My mouth waters and I’m too tempted not to give in to the need to touch that hard little peak. With my thumb and forefinger, I pluck at the nub rolling it between two fingers. I fight the enticing need to shove her sweater up and take it into my mouth, to suck on it, to leave bright red marks on the milky white skin.
