Chapter Three
Brynn
I was having a lonely day when I met Kyle Roarke.
College is great. I love the classes and the opportunities to learn from brilliant minds, the lens slid in front of my eyes that shows me the world in ways I haven’t seen it before. And I’m enjoying this year more than freshman year since Stacie and I got our own place off-campus this semester.
But I get a little lonely heading into the holidays and living on my own.
I get a little lonely sometimes just because.
When Kyle started talking to me in line, I felt excited. Maybe not by him—I didn’t know him—but at least by the idea of him.
And it was a Wednesday, in a café.
I’m blaming Taylor Swift for this.
___
“What could you buy with your body count?”
“Nothing.”
He grinned. “Come on. Pretend we’re at the dollar store. Go wild.”
I chuckled, averting my gaze as I felt a rush of warmth in my cheeks. It felt strange to tell a stranger I was a virgin, so I made light of it. “I haven’t killed anyone yet,” I said solemnly.
“Yet, she says.” He had the cutest smirk as he leaned in and bumped my shoulder with his. “I’m serious. How many people have you been with? You don’t have to be embarrassed. I won’t judge you.”
“I’m not embarrassed, I just… I really don’t have a ‘body count.’ The number is zero.”
“You’re telling me you look like this and you’re a virgin.”
I shrugged, uncomfortable but trying not to be. “Yeah.”
He stared at me like I’d just confessed to being from Jupiter. “How?”
I shrugged again. “It’s not that hard.”
“Wow.” He caught me by surprise when he added, “Well, I think it’s sweet.”
That word. Sweet. I liked it. “Yeah?”
He nodded, his blue eyes sparkling. “Yeah. Sexy even,” he added, his tone lightly conspiratorial. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only virgin on campus. Definitely the first I’ve encountered.” The customer in front of us got their drinks and moved away, so the cashier caught his gaze, then mine, searching for the next customer.
“Oh, you can go first,” I told him. “I’m not in any hurry.”
“You kidding me?” He grabbed the sleeve of my coat and hauled me with him toward the register. “I’m buying you a drink, little virgin.”
My face warmed even more at his teasing, and I hoped the cashier hadn’t overheard. “You don’t have to do that,” I said a bit shyly.
“I want to.” He glanced back at me over his shoulder, his blue eyes sparkling. “I also want your number.” He passed me his iPhone, then turned his attention to the cashier as he drew out his credit card. “Put it in my phone.”
My jaw dropped at his playful audacity, but my stomach jumped with something that felt like a blend of eagerness and excitement. It was a presumptive way to ask for my number, but… I don’t know.
I kind of liked it.
___
Now, looking back at it, I guess he wasn’t that charming.
Maybe I just wanted him to be.
He’s not making me feel terribly special right now, but the way he looked down at me that day with his sandy blonde hair swept back and his blue eyes twinkling… it felt nice.
And sure, maybe his jokes were kind of lame, but he’s handsome and well-off, and in my experience, handsome, well-off guys tend not to be the funniest. They don’t have to be.
I don’t know why I thought he would be as focused on me in a room full of people as he was when it felt like just us standing in line at that coffee shop, but he isn’t. I try to ignore it since it’s not like we’re actually dating, but I notice his gaze wandering every time a pretty girl in a skimpy costume walks by.
I’m not ready to agree with Stacie that coming here tonight was a mistake, but I have definitely lost enthusiasm.
My enthusiasm spikes briefly when he says we should ditch all these people and go find a quiet spot so we can actually hear each other talk, but after my first and last relationship, I’m determined not to ignore red flags this time. Mitch used to make “joking” comments to me about other girls being hot just to “rile me up.”
It didn’t rile me up, it just made me feel bad about myself.
And it wasn’t funny, it was just mean.
Especially because, while he was happy to dole out compliments to strangers who couldn’t hear them just for the purpose of hurting me, I could have laid in front of his car and refused to move until he told me I was pretty, and he still wouldn’t have done it.
When I came to college last year, I didn’t even want to date anybody else. My “high school sweetheart” had been my only attempt to open myself up to someone, and he’d done so much damage, I never wanted to take that risk again. Didn’t want anyone to have such close access, to be able to hurt me so much and make me question my sanity when I still wanted to stay.
Because I loved him.
Because I was sure once I proved myself to him and he realized I wasn’t going anywhere, then the waterfall of love I was craving from him would rain down on me and it would be glorious. It would be worth it.
That’s a lie I’ll never tell myself again.
I don’t like to be guarded. I’ve worked hard over the last year to lower those guards to prevent myself from missing out on something good just because my past experiences have been terrible.
I’m no scaredy cat.
I can put my heart out there at least one more time.
I’m not sure it will be with Kyle, though.
The Kyle I met in line at the coffee shop, maybe.
The Kyle at this party?
Probably not.
I hate when you get different versions of people in front of their friends. Maybe that’s how everybody is, but it reminds me of how Mitch used to rag on me in front of his friends when he should have been the person I could trust to lift me up instead of pulling me down, and honestly, I can’t see myself getting excited about anyone who reminds me of him.
Aside from the sparkling blue eyes, I guess. I’m a sucker for blue eyes.
But I’m already here. I might as well put in the effort to see if there’s anything between us, so I search for something to say despite my lack of enthusiasm.
“I like your costume.”
“Thanks.” He looks down at his own costume as we head through the crowd of people. “It’s from that show, Vikings. You ever see it?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t.”
“Well, you should. It’s badass.”
I laugh a little. “Okay. I’ll have to give it a watch.”
“Definitely.” His gaze rakes over my costume, lingering in all the expected places. “I like yours, too. What is it, exactly?”
A frown flickers across my face, but I wipe it and glance down at my lacy costume. “Um, I told you. Remember? You helped me pick it out.”
He points at me, recognition lighting his features. “Right, right. You’re that girl from that Phantom musical.”
“Christine,” I murmur with a nod and a much dimmer smile. “And the movie version. The musical costume was different.”
So much for “maybe he wanted to know so we could do couples costumes.”
The longer I talk to him, the dumber I feel for being here tonight, but I banish the thought as fast as it occurs to me.
It isn’t dumb to put myself out there.
If he’s wrong for me, so what? I don’t have to hang out with him again. It’s only one night of my life. It’s not a big deal.
We enter a room that seems like the perfect place to enjoy a little privacy. We’re far enough away from the area where the music is playing and people are talking. There are two comfy-looking couches and chairs around a coffee table, and a fireplace with a television hanging over it.
“This seems like a good place.”
He glances back at me, then flicks a look at our surroundings. He must not agree, because he keeps walking.
I glance at the furniture as we walk past, my gaze lingering on the coffee table. Someone left a half-empty bowl of popcorn there. Must have been watching a movie or something earlier. There are a few magazines and books scattered across the surface so I try to see what they are for some clue as to what Kyle might be into, but I suppose in a shared space like this, those could belong to anybody.
He stops in front of a door off the kitchen, and when he pulls it open and I see stairs leading down into a dark abyss, I look up at him uncertainly.
The basement?
“We have a cool rec area down here,” he explains. “We stopped bringing people down during parties because idiots kept getting drunk and stealing balls off the pool table, but you won’t do that, right?”
I smile faintly. “No, I promise not to steal your balls,” I say solemnly.
He nods with a little smirk. “Good. The couches down there are the comfiest ones in the house.”
He gestures for me to go first. I don’t want to make him think I doubt his motives when he hasn’t given me any reason to, so I take the first couple of steps and wait for him to turn on the light as he comes down behind me.
The light doesn’t flip on.
The stairwell goes darker as he closes the door behind us.
On impulse, I reach for the railing. “You’re not going to turn on the light?” I ask uncertainly.
“This one’s burned out.” He says it casually, like it’s no big deal. “I’ll turn on the overhead light when we get to the foot of the stairs. Just watch your step.”
I make it to the bottom slowly. I can feel his impatience as he comes down behind me, but I don’t frankly care. He should have gone ahead of me if he knew the light was out since he’s been down here before and I haven’t, but I try to shake off my annoyance.
Lightly touching my shoulder, he pushes me ahead so he can reach the light switch.
The light flicks on and the sight I’m met with rips a scream from my throat.
Several figures are gathered around a beer pong table wearing black hooded robes.
It startles the shit out of me, and I back up, but Kyle is there, his grip on my shoulder tightening. His other hand drops to my hip, and he pushes me forward.
Confusion and fear ripple through me. It’s a Halloween party, so I guess this must be some prank meant to spook me. It worked, but now I’d like them to leave.
The amusement in Kyle’s voice soothes my fear a little. “I bet you’re one of those girls who jumps at every jump scare in a horror movie, huh?”
“Actually, yes.” I glance back at him uneasily. He’s smiling a faint smile, so I still think we’re probably all right.
A noise from one of them brings my attention back to the guys. He pulls his hood back and I see it’s a guy our age with dark spiky hair. His gaze rakes over my costume, then his lips tug up in a faintly malicious smirk.
“The outfit’s perfect.”
“Yeah,” says another guy, nodding his agreement. “How’d you get her to wear it?”
My stomach drops, then pitches again when Kyle answers the same way the guy asked—as if I’m not even here. “Told her to.”
They both laugh, and even my dead instincts perk up and tell me to get the fuck away from them.
Unfortunately, that means I’ve already stepped off the cliff.
When I turn back to the staircase, Kyle is already expecting the move and grabs me by the shoulders.
“You can’t leave already,” he says. “We haven’t made it to the fun part of the evening yet.”
“Already?” A redheaded guy with a ruddy complexion yanks his hood back and scowls. “I thought you said we were killing her after. I can’t get in trouble for this shit, man. My dad will kill me.”
Kyle glares at his friend.
The guy with black spiky hair sighs. “She wasn’t supposed to know that yet, you dumb fuck. Now she’ll fight us harder.”
My eyes are wide, my jaw on the fucking ground.
How dare these assholes keep talking about me like I’m not here?
And plotting my murder.
I obviously need to get the hell out of here, so I throw myself forward and knee Kyle hard in the balls.
His grip on me loosens because he wasn’t expecting it.
Heart pounding, I hurry past him and take off up the stairs.
I can see safety just at the top, but he grabs my ankle and yanks me back down.
I cry out as my hip bangs two of the steps. Kyle grabs me, his grip rough and deliberately hurtful this time as he yanks me back, then shoves me away from him in the opposite direction of the stairs.
“Fucking bitch.”
The guy with black spiky hair catches me and locks an arm around my waist. “I’m warning you now, don’t try that shit me with me.”
Rather than heed his warning, I reach back and dig my nails into his scalp, hoping to gather as much DNA as possible and hurt him at the same time.
If they’re going to kill me, I at least want them to get caught.
“If I were you,” he says dangerously, breaking my grip and yanking my arms behind me painfully, “I would work a little harder at behaving yourself during your final moments. I can do whatever I want to you tonight and never have to worry about you telling a soul. That means I can unleash my darkest fucking fantasies on you,” he says, leaning close enough that I feel his breath on my neck. “So it would behoove you to stay on my good side.”
I look back at him and he smirks.
So I spit at him.
That wipes the smirk off his face, but it’s arguably not worth it as he pushes me forward and slams me face first down on the table. I cry out as pain radiates through the left side of my face, and he moves up behind me, shoving himself against me so hard, the table cuts painfully into my hips.
“Oh, I’m going to fucking enjoy this,” he says, and the tone of his voice makes my stomach sink.
“Hey,” Kyle barks. “I’m the leader. I get her first.”
“Then I want her second,” says the redhead.
“I’ll go last,” says the guy forcing me to stay bent over the table with his cock rammed against me. “I want to make her suffer, and I don’t know how much will be left for you guys once I’ve finished with her.”
My heart pounds when the guy behind me uses his free hand to haul up the white lacy robe and toss the fabric to the side. I can feel that my backside is more exposed to his view now, but I’m thankful for this old-fashioned, one-piece bodice. He could easily push down underwear, but it’ll take more work to get me out of this.
Kyle is too worried about being first to give the guy a chance to figure that out. “Aiden, I said fucking stop.”
“Why shouldn’t we enjoy her a little bit before the main event?” Spiky hair guy—Aiden—asks.
“We can enjoy her all we want once we get her tied down.” Kyle’s tone is annoyed, like a spoiled boy whose friend is playing with his toy for too long and making him mad.
Aiden ignores his friend and pushes into me, forcing me against the table with such brutality, I cry out in pain and my heart leaps with fear.
He likes my pain, and he likes touching my body when I don’t want him to—I can feel it in the way he slowly drags his hand along my hip before he grips my waist.
“He’s hogging her,” the redhead complains. Emboldened by my helplessness, he tells Aiden to release my arms. When he does, he grabs my small hands with his big meaty ones and hauls me up on the table. Aiden gives me a boost, pushing me forward so far my feet are off the floor, all my weight supported by the table.
I don’t want to fall off onto the cement floor, but what they have planned is much worse. Aiden seems like a major asshole, but the redhead makes my skin crawl, so I hurl myself in Aiden’s direction.
He grabs me and pushes me back down more forcefully than he needs to. He pins my arms, then looks over his shoulder at Kyle. “Grab the rope.”
My heart hammers and I struggle harder to break free, knowing once they get me tied down, I’m completely lost.
“Please.” The word slips from my lips, and Aiden’s dark eyes meet mine, magnets drawn there by my helplessness. He likes my pretty pleas much more than he likes my fighting. I can tell by the way he looks at me.
Swallowing my pride and the traditional sense that tells me it’s only natural to fight, I force my guards down, let him see the fear in my eyes. Let him drink it in and revel in it. It injures my pride a little, but my pride won’t keep me alive, and that has to be my highest priority.
His grip on my wrists tightens, but not to hurt. To secure. To hold on.
I’m outnumbered and overpowered. They’re a somewhat united front, and I’m just a girl stranded alone in a basement with a house full of people too far away to hear me even if I wear myself out screaming.
The only chance I have is to turn these guys on each other and get some help.
I lick my lips—a subtle flick of my tongue, but it stokes the heat in Aidan’s gaze as it drops to my lips, then back to my eyes.
I think he’s the craziest one in the room, so I don’t know if it’s smart to toy with him, but I also hazard a guess: the craziest one in the room might be the easiest to flip to my side.
Kyle wants to be the leader, and the redhead wants to be a part of something. Aiden just seems to want what he wants, and if he doesn’t need the other guys to get it… I don’t know. I might be able to work with that.
A guy who hasn’t spoken yet volunteers to get the rope to tie my feet. I dart a fearful glance down at him and swallow, then I look back up at Aiden helplessly. His eyes narrow and my heart leaps.
Unfortunately, rather than come to my rescue, he pushes my thighs apart. Smirking at me as he wedges himself between them, he says lightly, “I’ll hold her legs.”
“You’re a lot of help,” Kyle sulks.
“It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.” As he half-taunts me and half-taunts his friends, Aiden slides his hands up the undersides of my thighs. He stops at the hem of my thigh-highs, then pushes them down, sliding his fingers down under the soft material so he can caress my legs.
Heat blooms on my cheeks as his hand roams my now-exposed inner thigh. I’m terrified he’ll touch me higher, so my entire body is tense. He doesn’t—maybe just because of the bodysuit—but he continues to touch me as the redhead and another guy wrap a length of rope around each of my wrists.
Two other guys roughly grab my ankles and work the rope around each one so my legs are forced to stay spread.
My heart flutters. I feel sick, but I feel a flutter between my legs too, and it’s deeply humiliating. I try to shake it off, reminding myself fear can trigger feelings of arousal. And I know what they intend to do to me. It’s not like they’re being discreet.
My voice shakes, but I still feel like Aiden is the only lifeline I might have, so I make a move to grab onto him. “You sure you want to go last?” I ask softly.
He cocks a dark eyebrow in surprise, his lips lifting slightly. “You hungry for dick, pretty girl?”
My heart flutters and I shake my head no. “I don’t want them to touch me.”
He doesn’t miss the way I separated him from them.
His gaze locks with mine, and I feel a thread of hope despite the ropes now rendering me entirely helpless. I can’t move more than a few inches, and every move I make hurts, as the tight rope cuts into my sensitive flesh.
Aiden grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me up from the table. Being raised makes the rope bite into my wrist, so I cry out, and as I do, he leans in so he can catch my cry in his mouth.