by L V Chase
“God, you're blind,” she interrupts. “While you were acting like my savior, did you even know who you were talking to?”
“I don’t name every dick I see.” I shrug. “A dick is a dick by any other name.”
“Well, this dick’s last name is worth sixteen billion dollars,” she snarls.
Sixteen. Billion.
Nine zeroes after that sixteen.
“I spent all day trying to convince people that you were a delusional crackpot,” she continues, squishing her plush cat in her hands. “I told everyone that I never even said anything to you, and you decided that we were best friends just because we’re roommates. I’ll likely spend the rest of the year trying to prove to everyone that we’re not friends and never were.”
I stand up slowly, setting my lasagna down beside me. Anger simmers in my stomach, but I know I can’t resort to my old school’s method of dealing with bitches. No matter what saved me from getting expelled the first time, it won’t save me a second time.
“I'm the delusional crackpot? You’re the one desperate to be friends with a bully who sees you as nothing other than a free fuck. What are you going to do the next time he snaps his fingers? Turn into a fucking dancing monkey?”
She shakes her head, her lip curling up in disgust. “You just don’t get it. Grayson’s family owns the entire Voss News Network. The entire city will bend over backwards for them. Cross them, and you’re as good as dead. The Vosses could be mobsters for all we know—except they’ve never been caught doing anything illegal.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “And you know that, how? You google every fucking student before even coming here?”
“No. Demi and Desiree told me. They knew about a bunch of the others too. Maybe if you hadn’t pissed them off, they’d have told you, too.”
These girls are on top of things. They’re exactly the kind of daughter my mother has always wanted. Maybe I can send one of them home in my place during winter break. I just shake my head. Am I the weird one? I didn’t think so, but everyone around me’s living in a different world. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m the odd one out. When in Rome and all that…but I can’t bring myself to accept what they’re doing as normal.
“So, we’re going to live together,” Diana finally says, setting the plush cat on the corner of her bed. “But we’re not going to talk to each other. When you see me in a classroom, a hallway, in the dining hall—look the other way. We don’t know each other.”
“I love this plan,” I remark, sitting back down in the alcove. I pick up my plate of lasagna. “Especially when I know I can just pay you to do whatever I want.”
She spins around, picking up a large book from one of her piles. I half-expect her to throw it at me, but she tosses it on the end table. I should enjoy her plan to pretend I don’t exist. I can focus on my studies and not worry about being a good roommate. But the tension between us is thicker than oil. Worse, I don’t think she’s a bad person. She’s a survivor like me, but she’s so desperate. It makes her vulnerable.
As for Grayson Voss? He’s plain evil, nothing more. An exploitive son of a bitch who saw her vulnerability and used it. Probably something else he got from his daddy.
I’d like to see him try that on me again.
Sleeping in the same room as Diana is easier than I thought it would be. The mattresses are remarkably comfortable, and although the windows face towards the campus, I don’t hear noises from within the building or from outside. The lights outside—which initially glowed bright enough to send a beam of light through the room—eventually dim, and all I can see are faint shadows of swaying trees.
I dream in sensations of pressure. The weight of a man’s body pressed down upon me. Hands grip my arms firmly in place. A mouth pushes against mine, strong and direct. A deep, woodsy scent lures me closer. When I look up, Grayson’s glowing blue eyes are lighting me on fire. I should run, twist, fight, but I find myself sinking deeper into him. Or him into me.
Hips against hips.
Mouth against throat.
Knees nudging between thighs.
Body looming over my bed.
My eyes snap open. A dark shadow stands over me. My arm swings forward, but the intruder catches it and forces my arm back down. I open my mouth, but a hand covers it. When I try to bite, my teeth scrape against a leather glove. I’m yanked upward with a hand still clamped about my mouth. I twist away, but the figure, too large and strong to be one of the girls, grabs me again, his hand pressed so hard against my throat that I start coughing. As I take in a sharp breath, I hear Diana’s yelp, followed by a crashing sound. I lurch towards her, but he grabs me by the throat again, pinning me down on my bed. I can make out Diana being pinned down by another figure. She whimpers.
He lowers his head down towards me. “If you care about her, stop struggling. She could end up with a dislocated shoulder. Or something worse.”
He takes his hand away from my throat.
“Fine,” I mumble.
He pulls a large piece of cloth out of his hoodie pocket. “Just in case.”
As he pulls the cloth over my head, I realize it’s a pillowcase. It’s not easy to breathe under it, but it’s not impossible. I calm myself, saving my energy for the first chance to get even against these fuckers.
He pulls me onto my feet and pushes me forward. After I take a few steps, he puts his hand on my shoulder to stop me. A gust of air hits me as he opens our door.
As we move through the hallway, I consider yelling, but I don’t know what they’re after, or how far they’d go. They could kill both of us before anyone else is even awake.
We keep moving down a stairway. I consider bargaining, but I have nothing to offer. No money, no prestige, no leverage. What am I supposed to offer him? A painting?
My mother’s right. Becoming an artist is fundamentally worthless.
We head down another stairway. The building’s chilly here, and all I have on is the oversized t-shirt I’m using as pajamas. I try not to shiver, but my palms are growing cold.
We start walking down another hallway. It’s musty here. Are we underground? Ollie had mentioned something about the school having underground tunnels, but it hadn’t been part of our tour.
Faint voices rumble through the hall. Goosebumps prickle the back of my neck, and it’s not from the cold. I had a slim chance against two men. Three’s a crowd. Four or more is a clusterfuck. At the very least, I’d have to sacrifice Diana. As much as I’d love to see her realize her mistake, I know I’d be ashamed of it for the rest of my life.
A few of my hairs rip out as the pillowcase is pulled roughly off my head. I blink, taking in the low lighting, then see all of the DDDD girls around me along with a few other students. It’s dim, but I can tell that we’re all facing a wall.
I turn around.
A crowd of bodies, more than twenty of them, stand together watching us. Their faces are shrouded in shadows, bodies restless and eager. Even in the darkness, something about the way the cut of their clothes and how they stand makes it obvious that their rich. Not psychos, then. Students, probably, or someone related to them.
In the middle of all of them is a boy or man. The heads all tilt towards him with a reverence that makes me think he’s some kind of cult leader.
We’re about to be hazed.
A bright light turns on behind the standing figures, and I squeeze my eyes shut. It takes a while for me to stop squinting into the glare and make sense of the scene before me.
It’s him. Everyone’s looking at him. Grayson.
And his eyes are trained on me. Shit.
9
Grayson
Everyone’s here in the tunnels. The damp ground squeaks under my shoes when I move. A weak draft blows cold air through my hair. One of the guys turns on a few more lanterns and sets them in a circle. I squint briefly, as my eyes adapt to the harsh glare of the bluish light. There's a light behind me, so I'm casting a long shadow against one of the figu
res.
Her.
I move to the side, letting the light fall on her. She grimaces, her face scrunching up. Then, her eyes widen as she recognizes me.
"Shit," she mutters.
I breathe it all in. The air down here's humid and stale, but that's not what I'm smelling. I'm breathing in the fear, excitement, nervousness. Worship.
I can it in the eyes of the other girls. The scholarship ones, and a few of the regular students. I let Eric put those in.
Their eyes are flitting about, squinting to make out who's in the shadows. One by one, they make a noise, gasp, sigh, or squeal when they see me standing at the front. They smile. They lick their lips.
I'm here to haze and to punish, but for them, that means I've noticed them, and they all want to be noticed by me.
Not just them, either. I've got my crew, half a dozen total. Jake, Aaron, good old Donnie, and a couple of others that all blur together. They're grinning in anticipation, hungry to see what these girls can do. But they spend as much time looking at me as the girls. It's my show, and they know it.
Eric's off to the side, watching from a distance to make sure no one leaves. Unlike the others, he's disappointed. If he had his way, he'd have made this a lot harsher and a lot more fucked up. He'd have kept them blindfolded and tied up while making them fuck the ugliest pimple-faced loser in school, all the while pretending it was me fucking them.
Everything's a joke to him. I love him like a brother, but it's holding him back from seeing the full picture. This isn't about making a joke. It's about making a statement. To one person in particular.
It's quiet. Everyone's still waiting for me to make the first move. Not her, though.
"What the fuck is this?" Cin takes two steps like she's just going to waltz out of here.
Eric appears at her side holding up a section of thick knotted rope. "Uh-uh. You play nice, or we play hard."
She glances around at the others. "What the fuck's wrong with all of you? You're just going to go along with this? They can't make us—"
Eric snaps the rope tight sharply between his two hands, and Cin winces. But she doesn't crumble. She's not the type to give up that easily, is she?
"Cin, it's just for fun," the blonde closest to her says.
She turns on the one who spoke. "This isn't fucking fun—"
"She's right," I say. This time, everyone quiets down, even Cin. "It's just a bit of fun, so we can all get to know each other." I smile as I hold Cin’s gaze.
The light around me is steady, but the bright spots of reflected lantern light in her pupils are flickering pinpoints of flames. I inhale slowly, taking it all in again. Her eyes widen slightly, her mouth opens, and her throat moves as if she just swallowed. For a moment, we're sharing something, although I don't know what exactly. Then, she ruins it.
She spits. "Fuck you, Grayson."
I don't feel anything on me, and it too dark to tell if she missed or not, but it doesn't matter. She just doesn't know when to quit. Still, part of me likes hearing her say my name, even if she's angry. Especially if she's angry.
I walk up closer to her, close enough to smell the saltiness of the sweat beading down the sides of her temples. Her face is all that I see, and my face is all that she can see.
"Do that again, and I'll let Eric do things his way. Because I promise you one thing, I swear by my mother's grave. If you can't even handle a little hazing, there's no fucking way you'd last two minutes with what he has in mind."
I whisper softly, but from the way she flinches I know that she’s heard me.
Her face still fills my vision, but she's looking away, her eyes darting about frantically. She's not stupid. She realizes quickly enough that's there only way out of this.
Her mouth purses together. "Hurry the fuck up, then, so I can get back to sleep."
She steps backwards to stand in line with the others. Her head's still raised, though, like she's doing me a favor. I hold back a chuckle. The bitch still isn't broken. We'll see how long that lasts.
I'm realizing why I can't get her out of my head. It's because of that shit right there. She's a splinter, a thorn, a crack. She's not right. Once I make her right, she won't be so damn annoying, and I won't need to waste my time on her. She refuses to bend, which is why I'm going to make her break.
I raise my voice, addressing everyone now. "Like I said, it's time to get to know each other. Everyone that's new has to go through this." That's not true, but it won't matter by the time they find out.
"Here's how we're going to start." I let the words hang for a little longer than usual. I can sense their eagerness to please. "If you're new, you take all your clothes off. Then, you'll take turns to tell us your deepest desire. Show us what you've got on the outside and the inside."
I purposefully avoid looking at her. The others are chattering excitedly. It doesn't take any encouragement, threats, or reminders of what I could do. The new girls all begin taking off their shirts, stepping out of their shoes, slipping out of their shorts. A few of the guys whistle or give approving hollers.
I turn to Cin slowly. She's standing still with her arms crossed. Even with the bluish light from the lanterns, I can tell that her face is flushed red.
"You're fucking crazy." She looks around in shock at the others, then back to me. "No, I take that back. He's crazy." She jabs a finger at Eric. "You're just another spoiled asshole hanging off your daddy’s name."
A hush spreads over the group. The other girls freeze, some of them topless already, their arms under their tits to prop them up, not to hide them. One girl's in the middle of stepping out of her panties. I see it all out of the corner of my eyes. But my attention is on her.
Eric just laughs. "Let me tie her up. Bro, let me tie her up. Dumb bitch, didn't you hear what he said?"
I raise my hand to tell him to hold off. "No, that's good. We're talking about families, is it? That's right. I'm a Voss. That's my name. What about you?"
I step closer. She backs away, but I stalk forward until she runs into the brick wall behind her with nowhere else to go. I move closer. The wall has to be cold and clammy, and she's only wearing an oversized gray tee. But she presses against the wall like she's afraid I'm going to burn her. Maybe I am.
I place both hands on the wall on either side of her head. She lifts her chin, still defiant to the end. I'm close enough now to feel the heat coming off her face, to feel the warm heaviness in the air she's breathes out.
"Cinnamon, right? Who gave you that name?" I call out to Eric with a slight tilt of my head, keeping my eyes on her. "What do you think? Mommy or daddy?"
"Got to be the momma," Eric says. "No way any dad is naming his girl Cinnamon. That's a fucking stripper's name."
I nod. "Sounds about right."
Her jaws clench, her nostrils flare. Oh, she's mad, and fuck me, but she's looking fine when she's fuming like that. She's got a sharp, angular face that makes her look fierce when she glowers. A pity she's so goddamn annoying when she's like this.
"My name's Cin," she growls.
"Look at that." I smirk. "I think you're right, Eric. And she doesn't like it. What kind of a mommy names her girl like a stripper anyways?" I pause and savor the way her jaws are clenching even tighter. "Don't tell me that your mommy was a..." I shake my head.
She tries to headbutt me. But before she can get a good swing of her head, I lean my head forward sharply instead, cutting her weak headbutt off short. She lets out a small cry. My forehead's pushed against hers, pinning her head to the wall. I'm taller than her, so my head's on top of hers, forcing her to lean backward. I push down with my head, but she holds her place and fights me. I push a little harder, and her eyes tighten with strain. She's still fighting, breathing hard, practically panting into my mouth inches away from her.
She might be struggling, but I'm holding her in place, head to head, with barely any effort. My pulse goes up a notch, though, as if I'm in a real fight, and I realize that I'm breathing harder th
an I should be. The fuck—she really pisses me off this much?
"No one stands up to me," I whisper. "Not even any of the boys. And you think you can?"
I push down a little harder. Her knees buckle, and I give her a cold smile, pushing her down six inches. Then, I ease up, letting her stand again. My head's still pressed against hers, but she's too fucking stubborn to give it up.
I give her a cold smile. "See? I could force you to your knees."
Her mouth opens slowly, invitingly, and a rush of hot breath comes out. Then, her mouth snaps shut and pulls into a tight grimace.
"That’s your game, forcing girls?" She's not backing away at all now. Her green eyes are unflinching, challenging. "Daddy's little boy can't get some any other way? I get it. Because you can have all the money in the world, but you still can’t find anyone desperate enough to suck you off."
Someone behind me snickers.
"Who's talking about sucking who?" I move my body closer, place my hands on the sides of her waist. She's warm, and from the way my thumbs press into the curve of her belly, I can tell that she's trim and tight. I rub my thumb up and down the soft fabric just a little, and she gasps, sucking in her belly.
I chuckle. "What've you got on your mind, Cin? I was just going to make you tie my shoe."
Her eyes widen as I reach down and grab the hem of the long shirt that's she must have worn to bed. It's covering her butt and legs like a dress, and from the way she instantly grabs my wrists and pushes downward, I know that she's not got much on underneath. Her grip is strong, and her hands aren't as soft as I expected.
"I can give you more, if that's what you want." I pull the hem of the shirt up a few inches, easily overpowering her. "What's underneath here? Should we find out?"
A new wave of scents hits my nose. She smells it, too, because her face flushes red. It's the smell of her, an intoxicatingly sweet, musky odor. I pull her shirt down and pressed my body close against her. She's not wearing a bra. I can feel the two hard points of her nipples pushing against my chest.
