by Meg Collett
Maybe that was what I wanted. To be hurt. Punished. Like a ’swang should be.
I took a step closer.
“Ollie,” he warned, his voice rasping over my name like a curse word. Heat pooled between my legs. When I looked up at him, I pushed my breasts ever so lightly against his chest. Instantly, my nipples hardened.
“Where were you going this morning?” he asked, his voice deep and crackling like lightning.
I knew he meant this morning, but I said, “I’m leaving over winter break. I won’t be back.”
Instead of going ballistic, Luke’s breathing turned slow and lethal. I’d never seen him fight ’swangs, but for some reason, I knew this was his killing face.
“You shouldn’t push me.”
“Why not?” I put my hand on his chest and trailed my fingers down to his hip, where I pushed aside the material of his thermal and hooked my finger in his jeans. From beneath my lashes, I looked up at him, my heart breaking. “Are you scared?”
That did it. He grabbed my neck, and I gasped as he slammed me against the door, my breath choking in my throat. His eyes raked down to my heaving chest, and I could’ve sworn they darkened.
The tiny sliver of fear sparked and grew into a flame.
I fisted his shirt in my hand and shoved. He didn’t move an inch. Instead, he crushed his mouth to mine, prying open my lips and forcing his tongue inside. He devoured me, consumed me. I held on, working my mouth against his as I gasped for breath whenever he let me up for air.
One hand stayed on my throat, while the other raked down my ribs and under my shirt, forcing the material up until he was at the swell of my breast, fingering the edge of lace. Through my bra, he rubbed his thumb over my nipple. Fire flooded down into my stomach, dripping lower until it sizzled between my legs. I ached to have him inside me, to feel his powerful body above mine. I knew it would be rough with him, but that was exactly how I wanted it.
He shoved up my bra and palmed my breast, squeezing and making me gasp into his mouth from the pressure. I grabbed a hold of his hair and pulled until he groaned too. The hard length of him bulged against his jeans and pressed into my belly. When I reached for it, he growled and grabbed my chin, forcing my head back against the door.
“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was hot in my ear.
I gave him a few quick nods as I tried to catch my breath.
He didn’t bother unbuttoning my jeans before he jerked my hips free. The material scratched down my skin, but he didn’t pull them all the way off, leaving them below my ass. I tried to wiggle them down, but he trapped me.
He shoved his hand between my legs. There wasn’t much room, and I ached to spread myself open for him. I groaned in frustration, but he pressed me into the door. His fingers bit through my flesh and shoved inside me. I threw back my head and would’ve screamed loudly if Luke hadn’t clamped his hand over my mouth in time to muffle the sound.
“You’re wet.” He withdrew his fingers like he was angry with me for wanting him.
He released his grip on my mouth. “I li—”
The fingers that had previously been inside me went deep into my mouth. I gagged, but Luke pushed harder. “You’re too wet,” he hissed.
I gasped for air when he finally removed his hand. He didn’t seem concerned at my near strangulation. His eyes roamed down my body, lingering on my trapped legs.
“I want you,” I said, my voice hoarse.
“Oh, it’s too late now. You’re going to get me.”
He hefted me up and slung me over his shoulder. I yelped, getting an up-close and personal view of his ass. We crossed the room to his bed. A bright, blazing flare of heat spread across my ass cheek and I hissed in indignation, knowing he’d spanked me. Luke slapped me again, and I jerked in his hold, growling and kicking at his chest.
“Stop that, you asshole,” I said, jabbing my elbows into his back. His muscles were so hard that I knew I was only injuring myself.
“Keep struggling, Ollie,” Luke hissed. “That’s what I like.” To illustrate his point, he plunged his finger deep into me, going deeper as I clenched and howled in rage.
“Dream on,” I sputtered, wiggling against his finger. I struggled against him, but I liked the feeling of his finger pulsing inside me as I thrashed. I pushed myself farther onto his hand. I was moaning by the time he threw me off his shoulder.
I landed on the bed, my trussed-up legs in the air. I reached for my jeans, but he slapped my hands away. “Hands up,” he said. With a hand on my ankles, he leaned over my body and wrenched my arms above my head. My breasts were open to him, my shirt and bra shoved beneath my throat. I stared up at him and felt my wetness drenching the insides of my thighs.
His nostrils flared as he leaned back, eyes falling to my ass. I tried to pull my ankles out of his grip but he held on. His hands went to his fly. I couldn’t see the length of him, but I felt it when it sprung free against my legs. He positioned his knees on the edge of the bed and hooked my ankles over his left shoulder. “Don’t touch me or I’ll lose it. Got it, Ollie?”
The way he said it made me wonder if the ’swang saliva left any residual effects inside of him. Something that would make him afraid to let me touch him. Like he might unleash on me.
“Luke,” I gasped out, wiggling against him.
Knowing he could be so wild, turned me on. Knowing I was the only girl in the world who could take him, turned me on even more.
He guided himself through my clamped legs, found my entrance, and shoved inside.
I groaned, my complaints lost in my mouth, my hands fisting the sheets over my head. My back came completely off the bed. Luke tightened his grip on my legs and pounded into me with his head thrown back, his neck turning red and corded with his strain. “Holy fuck,” he hissed, eyes heavenward as he beat himself inside me. He looked back down at me, his eyes hooded, his arms supporting my weight as he lifted me farther off the bed for a deeper angle. His jaw clenched and unclenched with each powerful stroke. I saw the side of his ass, muscles flexing, as he rammed into me.
I clenched my eyes shut at the sheer velocity of what I was feeling. Every inch of me stretched around him, opening for him to make me his until I was completely consumed. He was so big inside of me that he filled every inch of my body, though I knew it couldn’t be possible. My lungs constricted, my heart in a vice. I couldn’t breathe or move or whimper. He had me completely trapped.
That slice of fear shivered through me again, beginning between my legs and spreading out like a strobe light up my spine, pulsing through me until I was bucking against his hold, screaming as the orgasm ripped through me. Luke grunted as I came, shoving in and out of me faster.
I arced off the bed, my hands still above me and holding on for dear life.
He threw back his head and came violently, as I knew he would. Everything was electric inside me. I felt nothing but him, taking me completely.
Finally, he stilled deep inside me. He leaned over my legs and rested his head on my shins. His expression was so vulnerable, so unguarded that I remembered his command from earlier and shivered. Luke felt my reaction and reared off of me, as if he thought he’d hurt me.
His absence made me flinch. I sat up on the bed as he paced away. He stopped by the door with his head bowed.
He trembled.
Suddenly, seeing him like this, I knew I’d pushed too far. This was my fault.
Luke said something. “What?” I managed to choke out.
He turned around and looked at me, his heartbreak echoing out through his wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice rasping. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Luke.” I might cry. “You didn’t hurt me. But what—”
“I did!” he shouted. “I hurt you and you couldn’t even tell.”
I recoiled like he’d slapped me. “You didn’t. I liked it, Luke.”
Disgust washed over his face. Disgust toward me, like I’d been expecting. Just not for this. “What�
�s wrong with you?” His question was quiet, damning. “How can you like being hurt? Are you that fucked up? Can you feel anything?”
I stilled. My heart might have stopped beating. “What happened to you?” I shot back.
Luke shook his head, shoving a hand through his hair. “This is fucked up,” he said mostly to himself. Then to me, he said, “We can’t do this. We’re too screwed up for each other.”
He was right. We were both screwed up. I’d seen that tonight first hand. His father had screwed him up. ’Swang saliva had screwed him up. I looked away from Luke and told myself this made things easier. “Fine.”
“I mean it, Ollie.”
I stood from the bed and pulled up my jeans and righted my shirt. “I do too.”
On my way to the door, he blocked me. “But you’re not leaving.”
“You said we’re too screwed up to be together!” I flung my hands up in frustration.
His expression softened, the old, fight-for-control Luke returning. “I meant the school. You can’t leave.”
“Whatever you command, Luke.” I shoved past him, and this time, he let me. It wasn’t until I was outside in the cold air that I finally breathed.
I didn’t know whether I was happy or sad that I’d finally broken him. Either way, I’d done it, and amongst his broken pieces I’d found a broken man, a man who wouldn’t let himself be touched. Guilt lashed up from my stomach, making me sick with myself. He needed his control, and I’d taken it from him. He would likely hate himself for this. So why had I done it? To claim a piece of him before I left? To mark my spot?
Ollie was here, whipped across his back like twenty lashes.
I choked on a sob, but I stuffed it back down my throat and squared my shoulders. It was done now. I was destructive enough to know that I’d set out to make him hate me, and I’d done it. The worst damage possible. Mission accomplished.
Can you feel anything?
No. No I can’t.
Now I needed to focus on passing Fields so I could meet Peg during break and never come back. By then, no one would even want me back.
E I G H T E E N
Fields started at sundown on Tuesday and would last all night.
We stood by the iron gates at the estate’s entrance, bare tree branches scratching above our heads in the frosty night air. A guard far up in the closest rook’s nest called out names one by one, and the student shuffled through the gates with two guards, like a death row prisoner on his final walk. No one knew where they were going or what to expect. Fields were the same every year, but they were also Fear University’s greatest secret. Another rite of passage that the older students didn’t share with the younger ones.
Yet another measure of fear. A way to control students. To dole out the right kind of fear at the right time. To build warriors with blindfolds on and trembling swords pointed in the right direction.
I hated it.
From the back of our group, someone puked. Another few cried softly in the back. No one spoke. It didn’t help that there were no lights around us to splinter the dark shadows at our feet. Though we were still inside the gates, the scare tactics worked almost too well.
Not on me, of course. I couldn’t give two shits about Fields. I needed to do well enough to pass so that I would have a measure of freedom during winter break to go to Peg’s house. I knew I would pass. I had another worry.
My eyes cut over to Sunny. She huddled deep in her coat, her face almost obscured by her ear muffs, scarf, and hood pulled down tight over her face. I didn’t need to see her face to tell she was freaking out. Her shoulders were brushing her ears, fingers fretting constantly inside the pockets of her jacket. I wanted to tell her it would be okay, but I knew she wouldn’t appreciate it after Saturday night.
I wanted to apologize for leaving her but I couldn’t. If I did, if she understood, I wouldn’t be able to leave Fear University. Since I’d come here months ago, Sunny had become my family. My only family. Luke and Hatter too. No matter what, they couldn’t see the truth of who I was. They would hate me. And that would kill me.
Gritting my teeth, I returned my glare back to the gates, daring the guards to pick me next.
They didn’t. Two more students left, one at time, through the gates. Our group got smaller and smaller, the space between us growing wider with each departure. We were little islands separated by great oceans of fear. I imagined I smelled it oozing from their pores as they trembled deep in their coats. It made the November air thick and heavy, forcing the students to take deep gulping breaths.
This would traumatize them more than the Halloween reenactment had. I understood now why the older students kept so many secrets from the younger ones: they were too scared, too horrified from their own experiences to talk about them. Dean, the other professors, and a handful of hunters, including Luke, were slowly scarring the students around me and steering them from one horror to the next.
Conditioning them.
It was all so carefully orchestrated, so thought out, that it was almost pathological. Give the first-years the right fear. The good fear. Fear of the night. Fear of the ’swangs. But not the truth. Because to know the truth was to run. And they couldn’t afford any more running. They needed bodies in the war.
Luke had been right about this place, this war, not being right for civilians. They would crumble here because they hadn’t been raised to expect it like the other students had.
Up in the rook’s nest closest to the gate, a walkie-talkie squawked. Time to walk the next student over. The guard leaned over the rook’s nest and said, “Change of plans. Everyone else is testing in pairs from now on to speed things up a bit. Up next . . . Ollie Andrews and Sunny Lyons.”
My stomach dipped. I shot a glance at Sunny, but she pointedly ignored me as she slipped through the crowd toward the gates. Reluctantly, I followed, the students around me refusing to look me in the eyes as I passed. These were the same people who sat at my lunch table, slapped me on the back in the halls, laughed at my jokes. Now, they shifted away from me as I weaved through them, too terrified to look fear in the face and see me. I didn’t think of them as cowards, I felt sorry for them. This wasn’t right, wasn’t fair. And no one knew.
The gate opened a tiny fraction, enough for us to suck it in and shove ourselves through. “Sunny . . .”
She ignored me and joined the guards outside the fence. There were four to walk us over, which surprised me. I sighed loudly through my nose, earning a glare from Sunny.
We traipsed through the woods, walking a narrow path parallel to the bay. Our footsteps echoed off the packed dirt, mingling with sounds of the bay’s small waves and the nocturnal creatures out scavenging before winter. The trees towered above us, blocking out the moon, so that we relied only on the guards’ powerful flashlights sending mighty beams sweeping across the forest’s shadows. More guards and hunters were positioned along the trail and in tall platforms in the trees, where they kept their eyes trained on the woods around them, huge rifles ready in their arms.
No one talked. No one looked at me. But while the silence and foreboding nature of the hike made Sunny shiver with fear, it made me want to roll my eyes. The walk represented another test to see how the students reacted to the darkness, to be outside the safety of the fences.
As we made our way to wherever Fields was held, I thought about all the over-processed dramatics, like making us stand outside in the cold and walking through the woods at night. It was too much. Enough that any normal student would be useless from fear when they arrived at the testing. I furrowed my brow. Dean had to know this. He was pushing them too hard before the actual testing had even begun, which could mean one thing: Fields wasn’t an actual test. It had to be something relatively easy. Maybe they were evaluating a student’s fear to see how they reacted, how they managed all this buildup. It made sense.
At any time, I expected the guards to dump us in the middle of the woods. Then, in the shadows of the trees, a few hunters woul
d make clock sounds, like we were about to be attacked. Maybe Dean would be sitting up in a platform with a pen and notepad to scribble down our reactions.
A stupid test, but one I was happy to go through. Easy to pass. Even for Sunny.
When my nose was dripping snot and my eyes watering from the cold night’s air, we finally made it to the top of the hill the path led us up. On its crest stood a large pen with thick bars around its perimeter and a large, vaulted ceiling of mesh razor wire and bright spotlights shining down into the cage. From inside the bars came a scream and a thrashing sound. Sunny jumped and grabbed my arm, her eyes bulging.
“It’s okay,” I murmured. “You’re fine.”
Realizing what she’d done, she let me go and stepped away, not meeting my eyes.
Not the woods scenario then, I thought. Something a little different. More involved. I scrutinized the cage for any clues and strained my ears to hear anything that might be helpful. But nothing else came.
The guards rushed us around to the front of the cage and into a small holding room with no windows and two doors, one leading back outside and the other presumably leading into the cage. The door leading back outside locked behind the guards on their way out. We were alone.
In here, the sounds of whatever happened in the cage couldn’t reach us. I decided to be thankful for Sunny’s sake; she already looked pale enough, her hands shaking so hard that she shoved them under her arms.
The room was small with a low ceiling, where one long fluorescent light clicked and hummed above us. The walls and floor consisted of cold concrete. Along the doorless side walls sat low-slung benches; Sunny took a seat and hung her head between her knees like she might pass out. Unable to sit, I paced, pulling off my gloves and heavy jacket. In the cage, I doubted I would be worried about my warmth, and the holding room was making me sweat.
I would never, ever get used to being locked up.
I turned to Sunny and took a deep breath. “I know you don’t like me right now, and I understand. But we might have to work together in there. I want you to know that I have your back. I won’t let anything happen, okay?”
