Vicious Secret: A Dark College Romance

Chapter 34

Achill runs through me, freezing every ounce of blood in my veins. Xavier doesn’t so much as twitch. Not a muscle. Obviously, this isn’t the first time he’s dealt with his father threatening him.

“Is that all?” Xavier asks, his tone bland.

His father stares at him for a beat longer. Then his gaze shifts, zeroing in on the bathroom door. I freeze.

Xavier moves, blocking his father’s line of sight. His broad back conceals me, and I’m able to breathe easier.

“The summons,” the man says, his voice hard.

“What about it?”

“Read it,” his father orders.

Xavier’s cool expression remains. “I already know what it says.”

“Read it, son.”

I press my lips together, not understanding what’s happening. Without looking at his father, Xavier tears it open and pulls out a small slip of black paper. His expression remains unchanged, giving away nothing. Meanwhile, I’m standing with my mouth hanging open.

With an exhale, Xavier asks, “How long do I have?”

“Until the ceremony. It’ll add another feather to your wings.”

Xavier nods and places the slip of paper in his pocket. “I’ll get it done. Now get the fuck out.”

His father gives him a stiff nod and turns to leave, closing the door behind him. The silence is deafening. I watch through the small crack, waiting for Xavier’s reaction.

When he pivots, he’s calm and collected. The look in his eyes, however, is pure fire. “How much did you hear?”

I open the door, my cheeks heating. “Everything.”

“Good.”

I jerk back, surprised. He stalks toward me, his gaze focused, his mouth set in a hard line. His anger is a physical presence, swirling around him.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “What”s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

I narrow my eyes. “That’s not good enough.”

“Delilah.”

“Xavier,” I say, imitating his tone.

“Don’t challenge me. Not right now.”

I lift my chin, unable to stop the small act of defiance. He shakes his head and grabs my hand, tugging me forward. He walks us back into the bedroom, the mattress dipping when he sits down and drags me onto his lap.

He slides his fingers around the nape of my neck, his thumb stroking the skin there. His touch is gentle. I hate it.

Well, I’m trying to hate it.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice quiet but firm.

I don’t comply. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I have to leave, Delilah.”

I turn my head, my gaze colliding with his. “You’re leaving?” When he nods, panic expands in my chest, making it ache. “Someone just threatened to kill me, and you’re talking about leaving me here? Am I going to have to fend for myself? Or are you going to hand me over to another recruit?”

He growls, the sound deep and dangerous. It skitters along my skin, raising the tiny hairs. “No one will fucking touch you,” he says. “Especially not another recruit. I already told you: I don’t share.”

“But your father said?—”

“I won’t let that happen.”

I stare at him. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because the only way that’ll happen is if I’m dead.”

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“You’d die to protect me?”

He grips my neck, his finger digging into my skin. “I’d die for you, yes.”

“Don’t say shit like that.”

He arches a brow. “Why not?”

“Because you don’t even know me.”

He releases my neck to grab the hem of his shirt. I lean back and he lifts the material, exposing his chest. It’s the things wet dreams are made of.

There’s a scar on his shoulder, along with a tattoo of a bird perched on it. I’m no bird-ologist, but I guess it to be a falcon or maybe a hawk.

“Look,” he says, pointing to the scar. “This is from the knife wound you gave me three years ago.”

I stare down at the pale line on his skin, my mouth going dry. Guilt churns in my stomach, and I shove it away. He shouldn’t have been sneaking into the house.

But he did save me that night.

“What about it?” I ask.

“That’s how long I’ve been watching you. Since then, I’ve learned everything I could. Your likes and dislikes, your dreams and fears. Every important detail of your life, I know.”

I blink at him, trying to absorb his words. “Why would you do that?”

He lowers his shirt and places his hand on the back of my neck, gripping it again. The pressure is slight, but it has me leaning into him.

“Because,” he says.

“Not good enough, Xavier,” I say, throwing his words back in his face.

“Because I’m obsessed with you.”