Dare Me: A Bully Romance (Legends of the Ashwood Institute Book 1)

by Jayla Kane

  “Jacob,” I said quickly. My heart was beating so fast I thought he might be able to hear it. “I’ll call you Jacob.”

  “No,” he sneered, “you won’t. You won’t call me by my first name, Sineater.” His face was only six inches away from mine, the smell of his last beer floating by my nose. I scowled up at him and flattened my hands on his hard chest, pushing him away; it did absolutely nothing. And now he looked delighted—thrilled by my weakness. “Nice try, Bird.” He lowered his head, bringing it even closer to my face, and pushed back. Suddenly I was doing a back-bend on the desk, my weight on my forearms as he crushed me with his long torso. Jake slid his cheek next to mine as one of his legs wedged between my thighs—not too high, but enough to make me sweat. “Do you remember what the terms of this particular arrangement are?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, and the sound made him turn his head; I felt his breath on my throat now, his lips right by my collarbone. My knees started to shake.

  This was new. This was all new.

  Nothing that had happened in the last four years could have prepared me for this moment—the way my heart raced when I felt the hard muscles of his abdomen pressing against mine, the damp spot growing in my panties as he teased my knees apart, bit by bit.

  What was happening to me?

  “Remind me,” he growled, and his thigh pressed even harder between mine, separating them slightly more. I was too scared to move, all of a sudden; Christa was right. He could do anything. I could feel the tension in the air, the crackle of hatred in his voice, his eyes. His knuckles were white on the desktop, his strong hands splayed on either side of me as he inhaled the scent of my fear.

  “I’m your second hand,” I said softly, and I felt the heat of his lips so near my skin that it scorched. He sucked in a breath, otherwise still.

  “You’re mine,” he told me, and I clamped my eyes shut. “Say it, Bird.”

  “No, that’s not—”

  “You want the Vault,” he snarled. “You want it more than anything.”

  Almost anything. Not that he’d believe that. “Ja—”

  “Don’t,” he said, snapping his teeth by my ear; I felt my spine liquify as I realized all over again how much bigger he was than me, how much more powerful. “Don’t call me that. You call me Master, Sineater. That’s the word you were looking for earlier.”

  I couldn’t say it. Jesus—what was this? Some kind of shitty porn—

  “If you can’t bring yourself to play by my rules, Sineater, you can pack up and go home. Those other two grunts are probably still kneeling on the grass in the Commons; I can go grab one on the way to get a coffee before class, and they will thank me for making them wait.” He was right; I knew he was. “Or you can tell me you understand the terms of our arrangement.”

  I was silent for so long I could count the breaths he took until I answered, each clear puff of his breath hitting the sensitive skin of my throat, my ear, my cheek. “Will you show me the Vault?”

  “Will you play the Game?”

  Four breaths. Five. “Yes, Master.”

  He froze. He didn’t breathe at all for a moment. And then he said, “the Vault means that much to you? Still?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, and he pulled away from me, just as suddenly as he’d pinned me there.

  “Then tell me where he is,” Jake said, and this wasn’t the game anymore, this wasn’t the Game Master, or even the asshole who tried to ruin my life for the last four years. “I’ll take you there right now. Right inside the door. No one will stop me. I’ll stand there and let you go through all of their shit, won’t allow a single person to look twice, no one will even ask.” I hadn’t seen this face in years, years and years—this wasn’t my tormentor.

  This was Jake.

  “Please, Raven,” he whispered. His face broke my heart—my whole heart, the one I thought rotted away years ago. “Tell me.” He stood perfectly still, except for his heaving chest. I took a step toward him, and the hope that flickered in his eyes made me want to die.

  “Jake, I can’t—I told you—”

  “Kneel,” he lashed at me, and the boy I knew was gone, the boy I loved so much, my first kiss, my heart—gone, just as suddenly as he’d appeared. He was there a moment ago, standing right in front of me… But now, someone else was here instead.

  Someone that hated me. Seethed with it. Raged with it.

  “Kneel,” he snarled again, and this time I obeyed. I lowered my face to the ground, unable to look at him; the tears that were streaming down my cheeks weren’t from fear. They were from grief, and shame. From loss. And I didn’t want this monster to see how much I still loved him. “You stay there, Bird,” he growled, walking around me to grab that phone off of the desk and then turning towards the door. “Right there. Don’t move a goddamn inch until I come back and get you—do you understand? Or the Vault is permanently off the table. The Council won’t even ask me why, they’ll just bar you indefinitely. Forever.” He spun on his heel, looking down at me, I was sure; I prepared myself for the kick, for spit, but nothing came. I didn’t move, didn’t dare look, and he turned again and stalked to the door. “I mean it Bird—one fucking inch, and the whole thing is over. You can go back to that fucking witch-house empty handed for all fucking eternity, because without me you’re never getting in to the Vault. Never.”

  I didn’t move. Not at all.

  Not, as it turned out, for hours.

  The door clicked shut behind him, and the only sound in that empty room was the sobs bursting out of my throat, grateful I’d managed to hide them from him for so long. Grateful he wouldn’t hear them and misunderstand—or worse, he would. He would know… That I hated lying to him. That I was lying to him.

  That I missed him. Missed him so much it hurt.

  I rested my forehead on the thick plush and wept.

  Chapter Six

  Jacob

  I left her there for six hours.

  I knew she wouldn’t move, except maybe to stretch her legs and make sure the blood was still getting to all of her limbs; I thought about dropping her just for that, but shrugged it off. I watched the surveillance recorded by the camera in the corner of the office while I laid on my bed and swore at anybody that knocked on the door; Hunter brought me something to eat, left it on the coffee table, and prowled away without talking—which was the only reason he was allowed in. I’d already done the deal with the weirdos in the Vault and signed the book, so I had nothing left to do today but stare at the video feed, and hate, and hate some more.

  I just couldn’t let her go; I watched Raven humiliate herself, prostrate on the floor, and I thought: this can’t be healthy. This will not end well—for her, or for me. I was tunneling into the worst parts of me, the ruins of who I was. Deeper and darker, every moment I spent watching her slim figure on the rug. I should end it, go pick one of those other dumbshits the Society chose for me… But I picked up the phone they’d given me and couldn’t make myself hit the buttons. I couldn’t let Raven go. There were so many other things I wanted to do to her.

  Needed to do to her.

  But not in the way I expected. I was pretty disgusted, to be honest—with the whole thing, the Society, her stupid obsession, the office... With her, and with myself.

  I brought Raven to the office so I could drink in her panic when I taunted her with how much control I was about to exert over her life. I thought maybe I’d make her crawl around on the floor, tell her to pick a number, and then have her record herself sucking that many dicks over at Delta tomorrow night or something—maybe I’d go with her and watch while she did it, wearing a ‘Dickeater’ sign around her neck. And then we’d get down to the business of creating some really savage games for the rest of campus to enjoy while I figured out how to extract the information I needed from her; good girl or not, Raven has a gift for cruelty.

  But that’s not what happened at all.

  I stormed out of there and ran—flat out ran—to my dorm room, slamming t
he door behind me. It was five in the morning; I felt like hours, maybe even days, had passed since I swatted Delia’s ass and left that party to go down to the Commons before dawn. I sat on the edge of my bed and relived every single second of what happened, my heart racing the entire time. It didn’t slow down for another hour, as I replayed it all, over and over.

  The way she leaned back on the desk underneath of me, the slide of her belly under mine when I let my weight drop a little. The shiver that ran over her skin when my leg divided hers. The scent of her when I fought to keep myself from licking the lovely, long white column of her throat.

  What I hadn’t prepared myself for was how badly I wanted her. How deep my primal desire for Raven Keller lived in my body, how the root of it was wrapped entirely around my balls…

  And my heart.

  I really thought she was going to tell me.

  Finally.

  I know he’s dead. He’s got to be—otherwise, there’s no way he would’ve left me alone with Lucas and Mina. I can’t believe that. And besides, he was fifteen; he couldn’t have gotten far on his own, with absolutely nothing—no money, no driver’s license, no clothes, no phone. Tristan just… Vanished. Just like that, into the mist.

  I looked at Raven tonight and I could tell it hurt her to see me—the way I was when I was weak, when I was just a little kid who lost everyone all at once. But fuck her. She obviously wasn’t moved enough to be honest with me.

  Just like before.

  Raven Keller was the last person to see my brother alive. I’ll never forget it: I was on the second floor, trying to find Morgan’s coat for him, and I happened to look out of his window. Morgan’s room was at the back of the house, facing the Orchard and the garden, and I paused when I saw them. Raven and Tristan. She was running hand in hand with my big brother into the rose garden. I couldn’t see anything past the front trellis, the walls were so high and so wild, but I saw her, clear as day. I felt a rush of unfamiliar jealousy when I saw their hands entwined.

  But when I asked her… She lied.

  Raven never lied to me. She was my best friend—she was never ‘like a sister to me;’ I never felt that way about her. I wanted to marry her. I told her everything, all my secrets—even the ones I never told anyone else. She knows things about me I’ll deny to my grave.

  So when she lied to me, I was confused. At first.

  “Rae, I saw you—you and Tris were running into the rose garden, full speed—he was holding your hand,” I accused, but she bit her lip and glanced at the floor before squaring her shoulders and meeting my eyes.

  “Nope. I don’t think so, Jake.”

  I just stared at her.

  I remembered thinking, this can’t be right. Maybe I am remembering it wrong—maybe it was the wrong day, or the wrong time… But you don’t forget the day you bury your parents. Sorry. Every image, every word is etched in your memory forever, every terrible pause of the minister’s rambling speech, the coughs behind you, the way Rae’s fingers tightened around yours and all you could think, you stupid, stupid boy, was that you were so grateful she was there. Thank god for Rae, who knew you, and loved you, and would help you make it through this.

  Idiot.

  I wasn’t that boy, now. I carried him around inside and kicked him once in a while, when he had the audacity to mewl about loneliness or cruelty or whatever dumb shit… I wasn’t designed to be the way I am—I made this. Out of nothing.

  The husk that she left me.

  She was all I had left, and she lied. She looked me straight in the eye and told me I imagined it, that she hadn’t run into the garden with Tris.

  It took me another week to absorb the deception, and it still didn’t fully set in until Zella added her little bit of theater.

  Anyway. That was all a long time ago.

  Tristan was gone. Forever. And she knew something—something she wouldn’t tell me.

  That could mean she just saw who he left the garden with… Or it could mean she knew why he never left it at all. I don’t know. But we all have games we like to play.

  She was signed up for mine, now.

  Utterly powerless… Or at least, she was supposed to be…

  Because I hadn’t accounted for any of these fucking feelings. I hadn’t known how it would feel to be so close to her, to smell her, to feel her body under mine. I didn’t know what her reaction would be, either, and when I felt her hard nipples slide against me… Jesus, I almost fucked her right there.

  I almost bit that gorgeous, juicy bottom lip and ripped her goddamn clothes off and pinned her knees to her shoulders on that desk and just… Fuck.

  I didn’t think she’d like being close to me.

  I didn’t think she would get turned on.

  But she did. Hard nipples, dilated pupils, the scent of pussy in the air.

  And I… It’s like I couldn’t help it—like my body forgot we were enemies. Forgot I wanted to sell her to the drunkest frat boy I could find and make her take him in the ass. Forgot I was going to parade her naked around campus. Forgot I hated her, and all I wanted was to humiliate and degrade her to the point where she either gave in and told me where my brother’s body is or left Ashwood and never, ever came back—hopefully both.

  But instead… I had to keep myself from touching her, from tasting her. And then, like a fucking idiot, I asked her, begged her, practically…

  And got the rejection I deserved, for thinking for just one second she might not be the worst goddamn creature that ever walked the fucking earth. For being a fool, like that boy was—because it wasn’t that boy sniffing her scent and growing so hard he felt it in his spine. No, that was me. That was the person I made to get away from her, and here I was, acting like a hound after a bitch.

  She was still awake when I finally returned. I didn’t have it in me to punish her more when I smelled the room; she could come back later with a steam cleaner and take care of that. Or somebody would—the Society had plenty of gimps on call. I just wrapped her up in a blanket and carried her to my dorm room while Hunter created a diversion across campus, so whoever was trying to fuck with me from the Society might not notice. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to keep them guessing about what we were up to—I was up to.

  She didn’t talk. Her face was puffy and red, and she wouldn’t—or couldn’t--meet my eyes; I should’ve been laughing my ass off, maybe taking a couple pictures to post online. I sure as shit shouldn’t have been carrying her piss-stained body across campus. I shouldn’t have run a bath for her in my suite.

  I shouldn’t feel this way about her. Not at all.

  Chapter Seven

  Raven

  I was barely conscious of what was happening when strong arms lifted me effortlessly off of the floor, the acrid scent of my urine singeing the air. I’d been too afraid to leave and use the restroom, and I had no idea how long it’d been since I first crouched on the carpet. My whole body hurt; I chanced stretching everything out, but never stood up. My back ached. And I cried a lot, so I was dehydrated and sore, my face puffy and bruised from shedding so many tears. I crushed them shut, not wanting to look at whatever minion Jacob sent to drag me out of the office, and I felt too weak to fight them anyway; I figured they were probably taking me to the cafeteria or something, to maximize my embarrassment.

  Instead, I heard voices in the distance as I was carried up and down stairs and along corridors ringing with echoes of a crowd far away. I heard a door unlock and then it slammed shut, and everything was silent. The air smelled like old books—the way all dorm rooms seem to—and garlic, as if there were a pizza or something in the room waiting to be eaten. My stomach growled loudly. I started to force myself to open my eyes, to react; if this stooge thought I was just going to lay there while they went to town on me in their shitty dorm room they had another thing coming. I balled up my fists and prepared to swing, even if my eyes were still swollen shut, suddenly hard to open… But instead of some lecherous groping, another door opened and I was ge
ntly placed down in a seated position, still wrapped in the blanket. When the sound of water rang through the tiled room, I peeled my eyelids open with my fingers and blinked at my surroundings.

  I was in a bathroom. A big one, one of the models they used to advertise the Institute online where they bragged about ‘majestic oak furniture’ and ‘private dorm suites.’ You had to pay a lot of extra money for a room like this one.

  And there was Jake, his back turned to me, long fingers waving beneath the surface of the slowly filling bathtub.

  Fuck, I thought. What now?

  But he didn’t move for a long time. I smelled terrible, and it was so embarrassing that I wrapped the blankets closer around me, hoping to contain the stench. I watched the muscles of his back move as he knelt by the tub, feeling the temperature. The sun was bright, coming in through the window with no curtain; I guessed we were high up in one of the residential halls, and no one could see anything from below. He turned his head without looking at me and said, “get up.”

  I did. I still wasn’t sure what was going to happen next.

  “I’m getting a garbage bag for everything you’re wearing, Bird. You’re getting in the tub. You stink.”

  I said nothing.

  He still wasn’t looking at me, instead staring down at the water, but when he finally stood he walked right by me without a glance. I got up and followed him to the door and began to push it closed behind him, but he swiftly spun around and kicked it open, banging it against my outstretched hands. “Uh-uh,” he said, and shook his finger at me, his expression hard. “Now be a good girl and get cleaned up.”

  Of course. He wanted the door open, so any jackass could come in and watch the Sineater wash off her piss in his fancy claw-foot tub. Great.

  I glared at him and spun around, then perched on the edge of the bath. I moved only to unroll the blanket, placing it on the ground folded in half, and then kicked off my boots and socks. I yanked my leggings down, ignoring the wave of revulsion that swept over me as the acidic smell got stronger, and balled them up on the center of the blanket. I added my underwear to the pile and yanked my shirt down to cover my ass, then took my bra off and slid it through my sleeve, putting it by my boots. Then I sat in the tub and yanked my shirt over my head, getting the hem wet, and wrung it out as I kept my breasts beneath the water line. I added that to the pile of dirty clothes, then quickly reached over and flipped the blanket in half again, cutting the smell. I could feel filth all over my body—grit and shame and sadness. “Do you have any so—” I started to call out and then heard a loud crunch; when I twisted to look behind me, Jake was leaning against the doorframe, taking a huge bite out of a beautiful red apple. I blushed and he grinned at me, unabashedly enjoying my humiliation. “May I have some soap, please?”