Chapter 9 Rayne
Rayne
Weston and Noah are laughing across the room, but my thoughts are somewhere far away.
“Royal. You studying that history textbook or the birds outside that window?” Weston says, tapping his knuckles on a side table to get my attention.
I shut the thick European History book on my lap, running my fingers through my hair.
A guilty heat pools in my body when Weston talks to me.
Nope.
Not looking at the birds.
Thinking about your brother.
And how it feels to kiss him.
And his sad story that he’s never told another soul.
“I’m cooked, if you want the truth,” I mutter. “I need to go take a nap.”
I’ve been in the front room for a couple of hours with Noah and Wes.
I was pretending to be studying, staring out the window and gazing at the neat stone flowerbeds full of wildflowers.
Beyond the row of leafy green hedges that surround our yard, I can see past the iron fence into the end of the Luros House yard, where they have dozens of red rose bushes.
I’ve been thinking about everything.
Thinking about nothing, too.
I wasn’t able to sleep well again last night.
Again, my dreams were about Hunter.
I stand up from the sofa and stretch my body. I’m sore as hell, too, because I’ve been hitting the gym harder than I ever have before.
I’ve suddenly been feeling an urgent need to keep my body strong and conditioned, even more than usual.
Like I need to be prepared.
For my attacker, or… for Hunter?
I don’t even want to fucking know.
Oliver comes into the front room as I’m on my way out.
He’s shirtless and covered in a sheen of sweat, and he clearly just finished a workout himself. He’s holding a bottle in his hand.
Noah drops his jaw like a cartoon character, reaching out a finger and giving Ollie’s bulging bicep a poke.
“Obscene,” Noah says. “Rayne. Wes. We’ve got to hit the gym harder if Ollie is giving us competition like this. Fucking monster biceps.”
I’m not sure I could hit the gym much harder than I have been, but Ollie is looking ripped, and certainly doesn’t seem as shy as he did his first night in Onyx.
“How would you say that in Latin, Noah?” Weston says with a grin.
“Magnus,” Noah says. “Absolutely fucking magnus, bro.”
Weston laughs.
“They’re not that big,” Oliver protests.
Noah rolls his eyes. “You have no idea how hot you are, Ollie. You’re the kind of person who can’t recognize how good you look. We’ve already established that.”
“Meanwhile you think you’re God’s gift to the Crimson campus,” Wes jokes, flicking Noah’s thigh.
“What’s that bottle, Ollie?” Noah says as he flicks Weston back.
Oliver lifts his hand, waving around a big bottle of pale green liquor.
“Absinthe. A guy in my English class hooked me up,” he tells us.
“Oh fuck, he got us the good shit,” Noah says. “We’re going to crack into this later. Go take your nap, Colson.”
I take the stairs up slowly.
The moment I’m alone and away from the other guys, I’m lost in thought about what Hunter told me.
I was gutted when I heard the truth.
He told me everything.
And by the time he finished, I was holding back tears and he just got up and left the library.
Now I walk into my room.
Our room.
His knives always reflect the light from the window. He’s out somewhere now, but his presence is all over this room.
I wish it were gone.
I wish everything was different, for him and for me.
No matter how fucked up Hunter is, he didn’t deserve to see what he saw.
But I feel like a crazy person the moment I start to feel sympathetic toward him, too.
Right now I just want to shut the whole fucking world out.
I lie down in bed.
And I drift off into a nap easily.
The moment I slip into dreams, I’m lost in him.
Dreaming that I’m back in the locker room, but instead of ignoring him, I pull back the curtain. In the steam, I reach out, pulling Hunter in under the water with me.
I know it must be a dream because in reality, Hunter would never be crying. But there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that I’d never seen before.
And I need to help him.
I wrap my arms around him and rest my forehead against his.
“You’re not broken,” I tell him, and when I pull back to look in his eyes, I feel a tug.
That same stupid, sympathetic tug that I always get for broken things.
New guys in the corner who are too shy to talk.
Wounded birds on the sidewalk who I always have to help.
And now, apparently, Hunter Knox, too.
Why can’t I just let him be?
Ignore him?
Why does my stupid heart always have to care?
“I want to hurt you,” Hunter murmurs to me in the dream.
“So hurt me,” I tell him. “Hurt me as much as you want. Doesn’t mean I’m just going to give up on you like the rest of the world did.”
Even as I say it I feel the fear that comes right along with it.
I can’t get involved with him.
Can’t get sucked in.
He leans in to crush his mouth to mine again and when he kisses me, I allow him to possess me.
His tongue sliding on mine is intoxicating.
Like I’m free falling into his darkness.
And I’m not even a little bit afraid.
My cock aches when I wake up.
The afternoon sunlight is filtering in through the trees outside the window. I let out a breath as I blink my eyes open and look to the other side of the room.
The other bed is still empty.
Dust motes float in the sun shaft coming in.
I must have only been asleep for about an hour.
I reach down to grip my dick and it’s harder than a fucking rock.
I moan as I squeeze it, but I can’t live with myself if I get off to the idea of Hunter.
That’s Weston’s brother.
It’s his fucking brother, no matter what happened in the library, and I just can’t.
I stand up, shaking off the sleep and trying to ignore the heavy ache between my legs. I make a few laps around the room and I figure out the only way I’m going to get past this is through motion.
I need to move.
Need to run.
I’m changed into my workout clothes within another minute, and I head out the door and onto the street.
I run down Red Row and head out onto campus, taking the long route.
The run takes an hour, and by the end, my mind is finally clear.
I’m going to go back into the house.
Have fun with my friends.
And I’m not going to be a moth to Hunter’s flame.
Back on the front lawn of the Onyx Society house, I see something tacked onto the front double doors.
It’s four photos, I see as I get closer to the doors.
My chest tightens.
No.
The photos aren’t tacked onto the doors.
They’re nailed.
Each picture is in black and white, and they’re pictures of me, taken from various moments throughout my week.
My heart is still pounding from my run.
I reach for my phone and navigate to my text messages, my fingers fumbling a few times in the process.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
Rayne: You guys still in the house?
Weston: Have been all afternoon. What’s up, Rayne?
Come to the front door.
Soon, half of the members of Onyx are gathered around the door.
As the other guys gather around it, everyone is confused: none of us have even seen nails like the ones that are pushed through the photos, which are a brassy, bronze color, and the pictures themselves seem like old-school manual photography, maybe even developed with chemicals in a darkroom.
Red Row is quiet otherwise.
The tree-lined street looks like it always does, and at the edge of the sky, there’s a layer of grey clouds now, blotting out the sun.
Nothing seems different.
Other than the fact that I don’t know where the fuck he is.
Hunter doesn’t keep the same schedule as anyone else. Not even close. But trying to pin him down is always an exercise in futility, anyway.
“The first attack on me came from out of nowhere,” I tell Weston. “But this one just confirms everything.”
“James and Ethan were only attacked once each,” Weston says.
“I’m the first person to be targeted twice.”
Wes squeezes my shoulder. “We’re going to figure out what the fuck is going on. Do you want to stay somewhere else? I know someone with a house in town.”
“No. Honestly, I just need some fuckin’ food,” I tell Weston. “Colossus?”
“Since when do you want to go to Colossus Dining Hall?” Noah asks from behind us.
“Since somebody is clearly tracking my routines and needs to be thrown off course. I always go to the Kettle, so tonight, let’s do the Colossus. If I’m going to die, at least let me confuse my attacker a little bit.”
“You aren’t going to die,” Weston says, but he looks angry.
“You sure you’re okay?” Noah asks. “We can just stay home.”
“No. I want to go out. I’m starving, anyway.”
As we walk across campus toward the Colossus Dining Hall, Weston’s head is on a swivel, like he’s taken it upon himself to be my personal bodyguard.
He’s been taking my situation a little personally ever since the dart hit my neck, which is flattering, but unnecessary.
Colossus Dining Hall is crowded as usual when we arrive.
I always prefer the Kettle.
But if the Kettle is like a medieval tavern, the Colossus is more like something out of a fantasy film.
It has colossally high vaulted ceilings, chandeliers, and carved ornate wooden beams lining the ceiling every few feet.
Paned windows line the wall, and smaller stained glass windows are dotted all along the top near the ceiling.
We grab trays and fill our plates with food.
Most of the guys grab fresh-made mac and cheese, but I go for a sweet crepe filled with chocolate, strawberries, and whipped cream, because a guy’s allowed to have dessert for dinner when he’s being stalked.
Usually I max out on protein and try to eat as clean as I can before a football season, but right now I need sugar.
We head over to a free table at the edge of the room.
I haven’t even sat down yet before I notice Hunter. He’s sitting a couple of tables over, across from a girl with long, shiny black hair.
I want to be far away from him, but as always, something in me also wants to get closer, and it makes me fucking sick.
Noah catches me staring.
He looks back.