Vicious Secret: A Dark College Romance

Chapter 3

The seconds crawl by, slowly turning into minutes that become hours. My muscles relax, but not enough for me to fall into a deep sleep. Years of vigilance have sharpened my senses to the point I wonder if I’ll ever sleep peacefully again.

I guess I’ll rest when I’m dead.

As if conjured by my thoughts, a dark energy permeates the atmosphere like a cold wind, making my skin prickle and my eyes fly open. I shift into a crouch while my heart gallops in my chest, urging me to run with every beat. I grip my knife more tightly instead.

If it’s flight or fight, I choose violence.

Cloaked in darkness, the intruder makes their way up the stairs, coming closer with every second. Their movement carries an air of stealth and purpose that’s too focused and refined to be Frank. It’s not that I can hear or see this person clearly from my position. I can feel them.

Their presence is confirmed the instant their shadow slides up the wall and when they step on the stair with the toy. A loud creak breaks the silence like a mirror being struck with a hammer. The noise is my signal to act.

Hesitation could get me killed.

My instincts have me lunging forward with my knife raised. The blade sinks into flesh before my eyes fully take in the figure directly in front of me. A masculine grunt sweeps past my ears as I jerk back my arm, ready to strike again.

The assailant moves with lightning speed. He blocks my attack by grabbing my wrist, the sudden jolt sending a tremor through my body. Before I can regroup, he squeezes my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin with a merciless pressure. The knife falls from my hand to hit the carpet with a thud. It’s the clang foretelling my impending death.

The tenor of his voice eclipses all other sound—low, smooth, and tinged with a quiet amusement that confuses me.

“Not bad,” he says, jutting his chin at the stab wound in his shoulder, “but not good enough.”

My wrist tingles under his punishing grip, but it’s nothing compared to the hold he has on my senses. I peer up at him, struggling to make out his features still concealed by the black hood covering his head.

Whoever he is, he’s not a squatter or junkie like I first assumed. This man’s speech pattern is articulate, full of decorum and education. I’d bet my left tit this guy comes from money. So, what in the hell brings him to this side of town?

“Who are you?” I ask.

His response is to shove me back, sending me crashing into the wall behind me. The impact steals my breath, and I stare at him, our gazes level. He remains on the stairs, and I stay on the landing. He has to be over six feet tall; very intimidating to my five-foot-five self.

I straighten my upper body, keeping my knees bent in preparation to fight. “Who the hell are you?”

“You first, little raptor.”

“I’m not a fucking dinosaur.”

“No, but you are a clever girl. You put that toy on the stair so I’d step around it and the wood would creak, letting you know someone was coming. Right?”

I nod while wondering at the asinine turn the conversation has taken. “Listen, if you don’t get out of here, I’m going to scream.”

“Ah, ah,” he says, clicking his tongue in admonishment. “Benjamin is still recovering from getting his ass beaten, so he can’t help you. Besides, you wouldn’t want to wake up the girls, would you?”

I don’t know how this guy knows all of this information, but he can go fuck himself. Hard.

“What do you want?” I snap.

Although I can’t see his eyes, I can feel the heat of his gaze as it sweeps over me from head to foot, returning to my face. I scrutinize him in return, wishing I could kill him with a single glance.

“What I want and what I intend to do are two separate things,” he says. The unknown meaning behind his words both piques my curiosity and terrifies me. “All you need to know is that you’re safe.”

A harsh laugh bursts from me. “Really?” I give him a pointed look. “I don’t believe that shit for a second.”

He nods. The moonlight streaming through the window glides over the lower half of his face, revealing sculpted lips twisted in a smirk, a nearly straight nose, and a square chin. The youthfulness of his features contrasts heavily with the aura of danger surrounding him. He can’t be much older than Ben, yet he commands the room as if bearing the experience of a man a decade older.

I glance at the knife on the floor, silently calculating the seconds it would take for me to grab it and stab this guy. Again. Only this time, I wouldn’t have the element of surprise.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says.

“I thought I was safe?”

“You’re safe from the world, but not from me.”

Fear streaks through my veins, making my heart beat dangerously fast. I fist my hands at my sides to curb my impulse to reach for the fallen weapon. “What does that even mean?”

“Listen carefully, little raptor.” I bristle at the stupid nickname but remain silent when he continues speaking. “Frank won’t ever threaten you or anyone else ever again. I promise you, Delilah.”

I don’t know what shocks me more: the idea of my foster parent no longer being a danger to me, or the fact that this stranger said my name like he knows me. My legs threaten to buckle at the renewed adrenaline rush flooding my system. I glare at the man while reining in my body’s need for action.

“What do you mean? Is Frank gone? You’re not making any sense.”

“Aren’t I?” He tilts his head. “Let me be clear: I killed him… but not before torturing an apology on your behalf from him. Once your name crossed his lips, I removed his tongue for saying it in the first place. Now do you understand?”

The air thickens with malevolence. It seeps into my body, clogging my lungs and making it difficult to breathe. My breaths come out in tiny pants as his words fully penetrate my mind.

The stranger makes his way up the stairs with a lethal grace that I admire, although I’d never admit it. He might be young, but his every move speaks of power and authority. That’s as much a part of him as his skin.

I throw out my hands and press my spine against the wall. “Stay back.” My high-pitched voice has me mentally cringing at the show of weakness. My warning holds no more power than I do at this moment.

He stops. Stunned, I can only stare helplessly as he slowly folds his arms across his chest. With him being on the same level, he towers over me, looming like a demon despite proclaiming to be my guardian angel.

“Why?” My whispered question is the only sound in the night. As I wait for his response, I swear my heart is going to burst out of my chest.

“Why?” he repeats softly. “Because no one touches what’s mine.”

Despite this man breaking into the house and admitting to murder, I can’t stifle the righteous indignation that surges through my body. I lift my chin in defiance. “I’m not yours.”

“Not yet.”

I part my lips to say something appropriate to that ridiculous statement, like a “fuck you” or “kiss my ass,” but he turns around and descends the steps without another word.

My head spins until I grow dizzy and sit down on the carpet to avoid fainting.

What—and I can’t stress this enough—the fuck just happened?