by J. L. Beck
As soon as I pull the door open and see who is on the other side, I consider slamming the door in his face.
“You going to let me in?” Quinton questions, waving a bottle of wine in my face and holding two paper cups in his other hand.
“Why did you knock when you have a key to get in?” My defenses are up, especially with his surprise knocking and the bottle of wine in his hand. He’s insane if he thinks I’m going to take one sip of that alcohol in his presence.
His lips tip up at the sides. “I like to keep things interesting.”
I try to ignore the way he looks, just standing there leaning against the doorjamb so casually in his jeans and black T-shirt. The smell of cedar and lemon fills my lungs as I breathe him in, and a warmth settles deep in my belly. No. Do not fall into his web.
“No,” I reply and shake my head as if I’m trying to wake myself up from this never-ending nightmare.
“No, what?”
“No, you cannot come in.”
The smirk vanishes from his face, and something dark and sinister takes over his features. “That’d be a fine response if I was asking, but it’s a new week, and a new week means I’m allowed one hour of your time, where you do as I say, no matter what.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “And what is it that you want?”
“For us to have a glass of wine together.” His reply is dry, honest, and I don’t like it. Not even a little bit, but what can I do? Deny him? No. We have a deal, and as badly as I want to tell him he can shove that bottle of wine up his ass, I don’t.
“Fine, but one drink, and that’s it.”
Quinton shoves past me and into the bedroom while I shut the door, closing us inside. We’ve been alone inside this room many times, but tonight feels different. I can’t pinpoint in what way, but I feel it in my bones. Something bad is going to happen.
Placing the two paper cups on my desk, Quinton pours us each a glass and passes me a cup. His fingers briefly touch mine, and a bolt of lightning zings through me.
“Cheers.” He smirks and brings the class to his lips, taking a gulp of the red liquid.
I peer down into my cup, trying to build the courage up to take a drink. Quinton’s piercing stare doesn’t help matters.
“Drink it. Or the deal is off, and you can go back to fending for yourself.” His spiteful words cause me to bring the cup to my lips, and I gulp the red liquid down, the bitter tang hits my taste buds, and my lips pucker.
“Good, isn’t it?”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Actually, no. It’s terrible.”
“Too bad, keep drinking.”
“I agreed to one drink.”
He takes a threatening step toward me, and I can feel his body heat rolling off him and slamming into me. “If I were you, I would just keep drinking. You never know what I have in store for you tonight.”
The warning is clear. He has something planned, something that I’m going to need alcohol to get through. I try not to let the dreadful thoughts take root, but it’s harder than you think when you’re trapped in a room with your worst nightmare.
My fear of what might happen next causes me to take another gulp of wine, and I empty the glass, setting it back down on my desk.
“For someone so adamant on only having one glass, you sure did drink that fast.”
“Shut up,” I growl.
Quinton doesn’t say anything and instead fills my glass once more. I take the cup and sit on the edge of the bed, trying to block out his presence. Then it occurs to me. What if he’s going to try to do something I don’t like, something like… anal? He mentioned it the last night we fucked, that my ass was next, and we won’t even mention the fact that he fucked me there with his thumb. The mere thought makes me drink more, and I find myself guzzling the wine in my glass down like it’s water and I’ve just run a mile in Death Valley.
“Slow down, captain, or you’ll get yourself drunk.”
I don’t dare tell him that’s what I want, what I need if he thinks he’s going to put his cock in my ass. I’ll let him do a lot of things, but I’m not letting him do that, at least without me being incoherent in some way.
“I’m an adult, not a kid. This isn’t my first time drinking alcohol.”
“You’re really fucking feisty tonight.” Quinton slams down onto the bed, sitting beside me. His paper cup is long forgotten, though the bottle of wine is still in his hand. My thoughts drift, and warmth settles deep in my gut, working its way outward and into my limbs.
Is the wine already taking effect on me? God, I hope so.
Q leans into my side, and I swear I can feel his feral rage. “Keep up the attitude, and I’ll have you on your knees again, my cock jammed into your pussy so far you won’t know where I start, and you stop.”
I shiver and take another drink. Quinton smirks and fills my glass once more. With each drink I take, my body starts to feel heavier, and after a while, my brain becomes foggy. Without realizing it, I lean into Quinton’s side, my head resting on his shoulder. Suddenly, I can’t keep myself sitting up straight, which isn’t a bad thing if he still plans to have sex with me.
“How are you feeling?” Q’s deep voice rumbles in my ears.
A hiccup slips past my lips, and I wish I could stop myself from saying what I do next. “You have a really nice voice. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Steadying me, he replies, “No, I don’t believe anyone ever has. They’ve told me I have a really nice cock, though.”
“You’re so full of yourself.” I shove off the bed and stumble forward. I’ve been drunk before, but this feels different.
“I bet you wish you were full of something,” Quinton murmurs.
He snakes an arm around my waist and tugs me back toward the bed. I fall backward, my flailing limbs and body landing on top of him in a heap. Oh, god, this is where he tells me he wants to fuck my ass—the entire reason I’ve drunk as much as I have.
My stomach churns, and my skin feels flush. “What do you want?” The words come out in a slur, and I don’t recognize my own voice. The room is spinning, and I lean into Quinton’s body to make it stop.
“Everything, but right now, I want to know more about Brittney. Who is she? Why are you such good friends?”
“I already told you why. She’s nice to me. She lets me stay in the library and hide out from everyone. She also has books in the library.”
“Books in the library? You don’t say?” Quinton mocks, making me giggle. “So, you hide out in the library with your books.”
He dips his head, burying his face in the crook of my neck, and starts nibbling on my skin there.
“Mm-hmm, we hide out together. I hide from you, and she hides from Phoenix,” I mumble, rubbing my back against Q’s chest as his arms tighten around my body.
“You don’t have to hide from me,” Q whispers into my hair.
“Just from everyone else then?” He doesn’t have a response for that. We both know it’s true.
Time ticks by slowly, and Quinton holds me in his arms for a bit before moving us around and placing me on the mattress. I lay immobile, staring up at him. Watching and waiting for him to do something even though all he does is pull the blankets back and cover me up.
He’s pulling away from me, and I need something to tether us together, something to bring him back.
“What happened to her… your sister…Adela.” The words pass my dry lips with ease.
He stops and drops the covers onto my stomach. The look on his face is a mixture of both pain and sadness.
“What do you mean, what happened?”
I yawn, the wine having obviously made me tired as well. “Where was she at the founders’ ball? I didn’t see her.”
There is a long moment of silence, and even in my drunken state, I can tell he’s contemplating something.
Lifting my hand, I reach for his. “You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”
For some reason, I feel that
whatever he is hiding is the primary reason for his rage. It’s the reason for his lack of control.
His expression changes, and he takes a step back. Our connection snaps, and all that’s left is a vacant spot in front of me.
“Go to sleep, Aspen. I think you’ve shared enough with me for the night, and I’m not in the mood to share anything with you. We aren’t friends. We aren’t even acquaintances. We’re enemies, and nothing that ever happens in this room will change that.”
His words cut me deep but don’t surprise me. He would never admit to me if I meant something to him, just like I would never admit if I was falling for him.
“Good night, Q,” I whisper, unwilling to touch what he’s just said.
Clenching his jaw tightly, he storms out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him. With the wine circulating through my veins still, I let my heavy lids fall closed. Sleep invades the edges of my mind, but even as I drift to sleep, the question at the back of my mind still lingers. What happened to his sister?
35
QUINTON
The following morning, before I even have breakfast or coffee, I go to the library. The halls are quiet, and it’s not until I reach the library that I think maybe it might be closed this early. Thankfully, the doors are open, beckoning me forward. I catch a glimpse of the morning sunrise peeking up through the mountains as I enter, and I pause in the doorway to stare at the majestic beauty of nature. Strange how its beauty can become your worst nightmare in a split second. The mountains, while a sight to see, are more than dangerous.
“Can I help you?” A low voice grabs my attention, and I swivel in its direction. My gaze lands on Brittney, standing before me, a blank expression on her face.
Oh, this is going to be good.
“Yes, yes, you can. In fact, you were just the person I was looking for.” I take a step toward her, and her brows jump up, a look of almost shock overtaking her features.
She should know that while she is a teacher here, and I have no real interest in her besides what she can offer me in terms of finding my birth mother, she should still be scared of what I can do to her. What will I do if she doesn’t give me what I want?
“Do you need help finding a book?” she questions almost innocently, and I cross my arms over my chest, making myself appear bigger, scarier.
“No, no. Let’s just say I know the little secret you told Aspen. I know what you are hiding from, or better, who you are hiding from. But don’t worry, I want you to know that I won’t tell Phoenix where you are… under one condition.”
Brittney’s nose wrinkles and creases appear on her forehead. I can see the anxiety building, feel it as it rolls off her and fills the room.
“You do understand that blackmailing a teacher could get you kicked out of Corium?” There is a bite to her tone that I don’t like, so I drive my point home.
“And you do realize who my father is, right? I could make it so you can’t get a job anywhere. I can make it so that you’re poor, without a job or home, living on the streets, begging for your next meal.” A visible shiver works its way through her body, and her jaw tightens.
“What do you want from me?”
“I’m glad you decided to help me.”
“I didn’t. I decided I value my job and food on the table more. Now tell me what you want or get the hell out of the library.”
I decide to pause the asshole attitude and get to the point. “I need you to find something, actually, someone, if you can.”
“Who?”
“My birth mother. I need whatever information you can find, and if you happen to discover where she is living, that’s even better. Whatever you find, I want it.”
“Okay, tell me everything you know about her, and I’ll do my best to see what I can dig up.” I rattle off all the info I know, which isn’t much.
“Give me two days. Meet me here at the same time. I’ll warn you, though, I’m not sure how much information I’ll get with what you’ve given me.”
“Whatever you find, I want to know. I don’t care what it is.”
Brittney nods, and the weight on my chest becomes heavier. What will I do when I find out who she is? Better yet, what if she tells me things about my father that I’m not ready to hear?
When I leave the library, I’m a mess, confused by my own emotions. What if my father was trying to protect me from her? What if she didn’t want me? I shove all the lingering questions to the back of my mind. Until I have a logical answer to them, there is no point in dwelling on them.
I meet Ren for breakfast as usual and ignore the festering in my gut. Something bad is about to happen. I can feel it.
Two days pass, and they’re as anxiety-riddled as ever. I do my best to keep a safe distance from Aspen, even if it’s hell to do. I can feel my need for control rising up. It won’t be long till I have to make a trip to her room and find something to barter her with.
I drag myself out of bed and walk to the library to meet Brittney. As soon as our gazes connect, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, staring at me almost nervously.
“I get the feeling whatever you’re going to tell me isn’t something I’ll like.
“It didn’t take me long to find a name, but her name doesn’t matter, not now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tia was her name, and she’s dead.”
Dead? Why did I never think that was a possibility? “What happened, and when?” The wheels in my head start turning again; maybe she died in childbirth, or maybe one of my father’s enemies killed her.
“I don’t know what happened. I just know she is dead.”
My jaw aches, and my teeth crack with the pressure of my grinding teeth. “Dig deeper, find out who killed her and why.”
Brittney gives me an apprehensive look. “Sometimes, when you start digging for things, you move dirt and uncover secrets you were never meant to discover.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I growl, angry that my birth mother is dead. Any chance of finding out what happened between my father and her is gone.
“It means you might be better off not knowing what happened.”
I shake my head at her stupidity. “I don’t care what you have to do. Find out what happened, or else I’ll end your career here and make you wish there was a place you could hide from us.”
Brittney doesn’t reply, and I’m thankful for that. I can feel my rage boiling up to the surface. It’s only six o’clock, and I’ve shot my entire day in the ass with this little piece of information. Working out isn’t going to make this energy go away. Nothing but control will help me. When I can’t control the pieces of my forever moving chessboard, I move to control someone else’s.
Each step I take toward Aspen’s room sends a spike of adrenaline through my veins. She is a drug I can’t shake, forbidden fruit dangling at the top of the street, and I’m starving. When I reach the door to her room, I’ve already got the key card out. I let myself in, opening the door slowly, and with one deep inhale of her sweet scent, it’s like I can think a little clearer.
I close the door behind me, and my cock hardens to steel when I turn around and drink her in. She’s sleeping on her stomach, one arm under the pillow, and her blond hair frames her head like a halo.
She’s not wearing panties, and the blanket is kicked away, leaving her completely exposed. My mouth waters, like a fucking steak has been set before me. Every day, I learn she is a temptation I cannot afford to want, yet I’m not strong enough to deny either of us what we crave. Crossing the room, I lick my lips and reach for the button on my jeans.
I’m just about to strip out of my clothes and sink nine inches deep into her tight pussy, fucking her until we’re both spent, when my eyes catch on something glittery.
My lungs deflate like a balloon, and I stare at the bracelet Aspen is wearing, willing myself to unsee it clinging to her delicate wrist.
I�
��d know that bracelet anywhere as it was a piece of jewelry my sister Adela was very fond of. A thin rose gold bracelet with a heart-shaped diamond pendant. It looked beautiful on her, but on Aspen, it looks…
The room spins, and my hands become fists.
Something inside me snaps. The control I often seek out in Aspen is out of reach. I’m spiraling. As if God knew what would happen next, Aspen woke, her head lifting off the pillow and the bracelet moving as she sits up. I can’t look away from that bracelet. How had she gotten it, and when?
“Quinton, what are you—”
I cut her off before she has the chance to speak. My hand wrapping tightly around her throat as I slam her naked body against the wall. My body is pressed against hers, trapping her.
Like prey, she stares at me, her eyes pleading. I squeeze her throat a little tighter and watch as the fear trickles into her blue eyes.
“Where did you get that bracelet?” I sneer, wanting to rip the answer right out of her.
Her eyes dart down to her wrist, and I can see her piecing the puzzle together. The only way she got that bracelet was to steal it from my sister.
“It’s not… it’s not what you think.” The words slip past her trembling lips, but I’m too far gone to give a shit. My thoughts shift, swarming like bees, and I want to destroy her, break her.
I could kill her. I should. My grip on her throat tightens, and I watch through the haze of destruction as her lips become blue, and fear, like I’ve never seen, overtakes her features.
She claws at my hand, her nails digging into my skin, her feet kicking at my body but never fazing me. I watch as tears slip from her eyes and slide down the apples of her cheeks.
She’s so fucking pretty when she cries. Too bad it’s all fake. I grit my teeth and smile, smile at her, and watch as the light in her eyes fizzles out.
The stupid dangling of the bracelet causes me to lose focus, and at the last second, I release Aspen. She falls to the floor, landing in a heap. Her heavy pants for oxygen fill the room, and I ignore her existence as I angrily grab her hand to take the bracelet off. She doesn’t fight, lift her head, or say a single word as I undo the bracelet and take a step back. The rage inside me is more powerful than it’s ever been in my entire life, and I’m glad she keeps her mouth shut because today, I might just kill her.
