Chapter Twelve
My heart thrumsin my throat long after Ryker leaves the cafeteria. I try to force my attention back down towards my textbook, but the English letters are as inscrutable as the Greek. The lines swim and distort before my eyes, meaningless in the wake of his bold, yet brooding presence.
He asked me out. That’s what just happened, right? No, not quite—he ordered me out. The thought is enough for me to tremble—whether it’s with fear or excitement, I can’t quite tell.
And tonight? Really? The new moon, the one night I need to be on campus…
Not until later, though. After midnight, from what my mother wrote.
Despite myself, I’ve already made up my mind to meet him at six. I’m not an idiot. I know I should be wary. But isn’t this what college is all about? Making chancy decisions, putting safety aside for the sake of unfathomably hot guys?
It’s not just that I’m attracted to him, either. I am—no mistaking that—but there’s something else lingering under that brooding surface, barely out of reach.
His voice, his chilly gaze, the leonine tension of his shoulders… I could feel his hunger. Hunger is the right word for it, too. Nothing so simple as interest, or so generous as lust. His desire for me is a hunter’s desire for its prey.
Despite myself—despite knowing better, being smarter—I’m a little bit intoxicated.
Maybe more than a little bit.
Ugh. This is hopeless. I shut my Greek book and cram it into my tote bag. I hate how vulnerable he’s left me; I woke up invigorated this morning despite the pouring rain, ready to get in a solid chunk of studying before my afternoon Lit class. He dissolved my confidence with no more than a few coolly murmured words. If I don’t get my head on straight, I’m going to make an idiot of myself in front of my new professor.
Maybe Harper can help. I pull out my phone and navigate to our string of text messages, only to pause with my fingers hovering over the screen, utterly lost for words. What do I say? What can I say?
Something totally crazy just happened
Her response comes instantaneously, despite the fact that I know she’s in the middle of her calculus lecture.
Omg?? Spill!!!
Even typing out a description of what just happened is enough to ignite a flare of heat in my cheeks.
Ryker wants to take me into the city tonight.
WHAT??????? Ryker PENDRAGON????????
I know.
No seriously WHAT. Are u fucking with me???
Nope.
HOLY SHIT GIRL!!!
I turn my phone face down on the table, ignoring the way it continues to buzz, and force myself to take a deep breath. Yeah, this isn’t doing much to calm me down. Her enthusiasm is sweet, but it’s also overwhelming. To her, the GODs represent status. She thinks they’re playthings, trophies to be flaunted.
Ryker’s interest in me doesn’t feel like a prize.
As for what it does feel like…
I’m going into the city tonight. You’re coming with me. There’s a place I want to show you.
How in the world am I supposed to wait until tonight to know what he’s planning for me?
The aroma of fresh-grilled meat momentarily snags my attention. The food stations on the other side of the cafeteria are opening up for lunch, coming to life with scents that would have been mouthwatering half an hour ago. Now, they stir nausea in my stomach. I need to get out of here. Maybe fresh air will clear the fuzzy heat clouding my mind.
My tote bag thumps against my thigh as I get to my feet. My legs are shaky, but I don’t stumble on my way out the doors and up the stairs. When I reach the quad, I pause for a moment to take in the cool air. The morning’s rain has eased to a misty drizzle, and the fresh scent of rain-soaked earth serves as a welcome reprieve from the crowded mess of sights and smells inside the student union.
Okay. I’ve got this. I’m not going to lose my mind over a guy—not even a guy as captivating as Ryker Pendragon. This year is about me, about my independence. Nobody gets to take that away from me, a GOD or otherwise.
Reinvigorated, I make my way to the dormitory tower—only to discover upon reaching our twelfth floor suite that someone has left the door unlocked once again. Crap. A quick check under my bed confirms that my duffel bag is still secure, but that doesn’t do much to ease my nerves. I need to talk to Sage and Aimee about security—the prospect weighs me with dread. I can already picture their dismissive replies: Sage laughing me off, Aimee rolling her eyes. Come on, Lia, is it really that serious?
It absolutely is. But I don’t dare tell them why… and even if I did, there’s no way they would believe me.
I freshen up with a quick splash of water to my face, dousing the last remnants of my raging blush. My reflection in the mirror is wild-eyed and lost-looking; my bewildered expression is befitting of someone far younger than my eighteen years.
I like the way you dance.
His broad, rough hands around my waist, bending my body into a tempo to match his own… the scent of fresh earth and bourbon, undercut with something more sinister, almost metallic… the way he’d stopped the fight between those other men without so much as lifting a finger. Everything about him sends my instincts into a clamor of alarm.
And it feels so good.
A door slams shut in the other room, jerking me abruptly from my thoughts.
“Lia! You home?”
Harper. That’s a relief. “I’m in the bathroom,” I call. “Be out in one second!”
She ambushes me as soon as I enter the common space, a miniature tornado of wide eyes and blonde hair. “Lia, oh my God. This is crazy. You promise you’re not fucking with me?”
“I almost wish I was.”
“Are you insane? This is every girl’s dream come true!”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “I thought you said he was dangerous.”
That subdues her ever so slightly. “Well, yeah. But what’s the point of life without a little danger, anyway? And it’s different if he approached you. I don’t think I’ve ever even heard of a GOD asking someone out. They mostly just take their pick of the bajillions of girls lining up to beg for a screw.”
The crudeness of her language unnerves me a bit. “Well, I don’t know if he wants to screw me?—”
Harper’s eyes look just about ready to pop out of their sockets. “You think it’s a romantic thing?”
“No, I… I don’t think so. Or—maybe, yes?” I’m pretty sure first dates aren’t meant to be serious, and ‘romantic’ certainly sounds serious. “I’m a little lost, actually.”
She smirks. “That’s what I thought. This is all new territory for you, babe—but I’ve got you covered, don’t worry. Everything from makeup tips to BJ tricks is in Miss Harper Quinn’s backpocket. First things first, let me grab you some condoms.”
She ignores my protests and retrieves a fistful of small foil packages from the bottom of her backpack—who knows why on earth she feels the need to keep them in there, of all places. “Look—better safe than sorry. That’s gonna be your mantra from now on. You know what sucks colossally? Genital herpes. Do not ask me how I know. And I can’t even imagine what a nightmare it would be to get pregnant.” She pauses for breath, but jumps right back in before I can get a word in edgewise. “So, okay. The GODs are known for getting pretty freaky. You’re going to want a safe word?—”
“Harper.” I take one of her hands in both of mine and squeeze it lightly. “I’m not going to sleep with Ryker Pendragon, okay?”
She purses her lips. “Famous last words, I bet.”
“It might not even be a date, technically. Maybe he just wants to get to know me as a friend.”
The bemusement on her face is well-deserved—even as I speak the words, I can tell how unrealistic they are.
“Yeah, no, honey. I’m pretty sure Ryker doesn’t do… friends. Especially not of the female variety.”
“Sure, but… I just don’t want to make any assumptions. I don’t want to get worked up over something that turns out to be a delusion.”
“You don’t want to get your hopes up?”
Not exactly—but with the protectiveness she’s shown so far, I don’t dare to tell Harper that being close to Ryker feels dangerous. “I guess that’s it. And I just… it’s all new to me, you know? You’ve obviously been through this plenty of times, but there are a million ways I could screw it up.”
She nods. “Sure, of course. I get that. It’s okay if this ends up being nothing—but I don’t want to take any chances, you know? You’re a really sweet person, Lia. And I’m not saying you’re easy to manipulate or anything, just… you need to be prepared for things to go in a different direction than you’re expecting. Especially with someone like Ryker. Plus…” She settles her free hand on top of mine. “It’s a school night. So you really don’t want to get yourself in any sort of deep shit.”
Before I can reply, the door opens again, and Sage saunters in with the expression of someone who’s swallowed a spoonful of straight vinegar.
“Oh,” she says tonelessly when she sees us. “Howdy, freshies.”
“Everything okay?” Harper checks, frowning.
“Totally. One hundred percent. You know, it’s not even a big deal. Fucking OPs are full of shit anyway.”
“Oh, god damn it. That was today, wasn’t it?”
“What was today?” I glance between them.
“Start of rush,” Harper explains. “Sororities setting up shop—I was gonna swing by and meet the Omega Phi girls, but they’re probably pretty much done now, aren’t they?”
“You wanna go waste your time with those bitches, I’m not gonna stop you. They were wrapping up, though,” Sage adds when Harper starts for the door. “Noisily wrapping up, to the point where my fucking lecture got cut short. Genuine advice, just don’t bother. Swing by tomorrow for the formal start.”
“They won’t, like, hate me for missing the first mixer?”
“They’ll hate you for anything and everything they can. And nobody’s gonna stop them, because they’re such bratty little princesses that even the president of Sigma Upsilon Chi won’t hop over to our dear neighbors and tell them to shut up. Omega Fine, my ass.”
With that, she stalks off to her room, closing the door behind her with a none-too-gentle shove. Moments later, the floor vibrates with heavy bass music.
Harper whistles. “Wow. I guess somebody didn’t get along with the OPs.”
Thinking back on the curvaceous blonde girl and her snobby aura, it’s not hard to imagine why. Among a group like that, Sage would stand out in all the worst ways—no wonder she’s settled for the sorority that Harper is so eager to disparage. “They don’t sound very nice. But you still want to join them?”
“Oh, everyone wants to join them. You’d have to be crazy not to.” She sighs and sneaks a glance at her phone. “Ah, shit. I have to get ready for my lab. I don’t know what I was thinking, signing up for, like, six hours of classes in one day…”
Crap, that’s right—thanks to the overwhelming distraction by the name of Ryker Pendragon, my literature class completely slipped my mind. A look at my own phone informs me that I’ve got just under ten minutes to get to Room 113, all the way at the far end of the castle.
“I have to run,” I say, “but we can catch up later?—”
“After your date?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Date. The word is enough to flip my stomach over backwards.
“Shit, we haven’t even figured out what you’re going to wear yet! Okay, okay, last minute advice—not modest but not slutty, either; of course there’s nothing wrong with slutty, but you want to tease him a bit at first—you have amazing shoulders, so your hair should be up, and?—”
“I seriously have to go, Harper.”
“Right, right. You’ve got this!” She pumps an encouraging fist. “Now go whip that class’s ass!”
I laugh and shake my head. “See you.”
“Ta-ta!”
I reach the castle with five minutes to spare, and realize almost immediately that I’m going to be late. Even with my careful memorization of the school map, I end up having to double back more than once in search of the right room. The upper floors of the castle, complicated as they are, at least follow some sort of logic—down here, it’s a labyrinth of flagstone flooring and chilly brick walls. The few windows that I pass by are fitted with iron bars, giving everything the feeling of a dungeon—which, considering the history of the place, may not be too far off from the truth.
Finally, after what feels like ages, I find myself facing a door marked 113. I turn the knob and try to slide in unnoticed, keeping my head down. I’ll just find a seat, quietly get out my books?—
“So there’s our tardy little lady,” a deep, false-sweet voice proclaims. “You must be one busy girl, Lia Morgan.”
So much for not making a scene.
I try to smile as I glance up. This classroom feels like an inversion of the tower where my philosophy class is held: also round, also fitted with a circle of desks, but dark and drafty instead of light and warm. The bookshelves lining the walls are so cramped that some of the hardcovers’ spines have split open.
Most distinctive of all, though, is the instructor—Professor Marko, according to the schedule downloaded to my tablet. His square jaw, glossy black hair, and three-piece suit are as stiff and formal as Moira Winters was loose and whimsical. A graying toothbrush mustache sits atop his tightly knit lips, and his eyes are a cold, flinty gray behind the round lenses of his glasses.
“Go on, then,” he says. “Enlighten us. What, pray tell, was so terribly important that you decided to throw punctuality to the wayside?”
How am I supposed to reply to that? “I’m sorry, sir. I got a little lost.”
“Hm. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you should always scope out your classes ahead of time. A pretty face can get you places in the world, Miss Morgan, but there’s no helping laziness. Take a seat.”
Half-stunned, cheeks aflame, I lower myself into the nearest open chair. The other students avoid my eyes, but the teacher stares me down as I pull out my books, paper, and pens—judging by the other desks around me, laptops aren’t welcome in this man’s class.
“Now that Miss Morgan has deigned to grace us with her presence, let’s resume. As I was saying…”
Does he have to be that harsh about it? Surely it’s not that unreasonable to be five minutes late on the first day of class, especially in a building as complicated as this one… but it’s not my job to decide what is or isn’t normal. Very much the opposite, in fact.
“Don’t worry about that dickbag,” a deep voice murmurs to my left. “He’s always like this… don’t take it personally.”
Glancing over, I find my eyes locked with the deep brown gaze of a guy who looks thoroughly out of place in an Intro Lit class: athletically built, grinning lazily, and old enough to be a junior at the very least.
“Oh—thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” He leans back in his seat, hands folded behind his head. “Seriously. Don’t.”
“Um… okay.”
I can’t tell if he’s being friendly or malicious—but in either case, it’s nice to know that I’m not being totally unreasonable by taking offense at the teacher’s attitude.
“Name’s Freddie,” he continues, as though Professor Marko isn’t in the midst of a lecture at the front of the room. He’s got a sneaky sort of half-whisper—hard to detect for anyone else, but impossible for me to ignore. “Though I’m sure you already know that.””
I give my head a tiny shake, still facing forward.
“Really? That’s shocking.”
“Is it?” I lift my eyebrows ever so slightly, earning a low chuckle from Freddie.
“My name makes its way around. Maybe it’s a good thing you haven’t heard it yet. Or maybe very bad.”
I don’t have any idea what to make of this guy. He’s laid-back… but almost too much so. Like he saunters through life without ever feeling the consequences of his actions. Someone with that attitude can only be one of two things: stupid or dangerous. And, despite being an upperclassman enrolled in an introductory course, something tells me he isn’t stupid.
“My name’s?—”
“Lia,” he says, teeth glistening beneath the room’s dim lights. His stare is more than a little unnerving. I’ve always thought of brown eyes as being gentle, but Freddie’s pierce like daggers. “Lia Morgan. Everyone’s beginning to know who you are.”
With that, he turns his attention to the front of the class—or at least pretends to—leaving me to mull over what on earth he meant by that. Am I really making a name for myself? That’s a good thing, I think. I should want to be popular.
But I’m not sure if I do. Popularity is fine, I guess, but I came here to blend in, not to stand out—and the way he looked at me made me feel like I was sweating under a spotlight.
Marko’s droning is monotonous, making it far too easy to let my mind wander. And Freddie’s cryptic words aren’t my only concern. Another issue dominates the forefront of my thoughts—an issue by the name of Ryker Pendragon.
Maybe he won’t turn up tonight. Would that be a relief or a disappointment? Both, sort of. Or maybe this is a setup for some messed-up prank. I can picture the faces of the GODs from the party, laughing and rolling their eyes at me, the stupid little girl who was foolish enough to believe that Ryker had any sort of interest in her…
What would Papa say if he knew that I was letting a strange man bring me into Carnadon City? He’d lose his mind. Demand that I return home immediately. I can almost hear the words: This is not what we agreed upon. You’re meant to be much smarter than this. Have you forgotten everything I’ve worked so long and hard to teach you?
It doesn’t matter. He has no way to know.
“Miss Morgan!”
Oops.
“Yes? Sir?” I straighten up in my seat.
“Did you hear my question?” Professor Marko drawls, “or are there more important things on your mind?”
Think, think—part of me has been listening, right? “Um, I was especially struck by the modern tone of Stoker’s writing… the pacing was more suspenseful than I expected.”
“Very interesting, but I don’t recall asking for your opinion. You’re going to want to work on your listening skills if you wish to succeed at Crimson Elite. Class dismissed.”
I pretend to ignore the numerous glances in my direction as the other students pack up around me. More than embarrassed, I’m angry—I don’t know what makes this man think he has the right to talk down to me, to make a mockery of me in front of all of these people. If this jerk had any idea what I’m capable of doing…
Whoa, girl. You’re getting way ahead of yourself.
My stomach rumbles on my way out of the castle, reminding me that I completely forgot to get lunch—and it’s too late at this point; Ryker told me to come hungry, after all. Six o’ clock is just a couple of hours away, and I’m going to need every last minute to make myself presentable.
When I return to our suite, Sage’s music is still pounding out from behind her door, joined now by a very noisy, one-sided conversation: “No, I don’t get why he would—I mean, that’s what you get by hanging out with preppy guys, right? She should know better, but the poor thing’s a fucking pushover, I almost feel bad for her…”
I don’t try to listen in, but Sage doesn’t really give me an option. Even from my bedroom, she’s perfectly audible—only the shower, turned up to full blast, is enough to finally drown her out.
What would she think if she knew that I have a date with the prince of the GODs? She’d probably warn me to be careful, remind me about those awful rumors she and Aimee were tossing around last weekend. She just said those things to scare us off, though, right? There’s dangerous, and then there’s dangerous—Ryker may be a little scary, but would he really hurt someone? Hurt me?
Despite my best efforts, I can’t convince myself that he wouldn’t.
My worries play on loop as I shower, get dressed, and throw on some light makeup. If I ever needed Harper’s guidance, now is the time—but she’s nowhere to be found. Based on her hasty advice, I’ll have to hope that a black tank top and skinny jeans are appropriate. He’d have warned me if he’s planning to take me somewhere formal… at least, I hope he would have. I brush my hair until it’s gleaming and tie it back with a velvet scrunchie, then give myself a final, careful look in the mirror.
I still look like a child. Like a little girl who’s about to realize that she’s way, way out of her depth.
Looks can be deceiving, though.
And I know what I saw in him..
I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.
Unless…
My eyes are drawn almost magnetically towards the space beneath my bed. Going into an unfamiliar city with an unfamiliar man—and with that unmistakable aura of danger—there’s never been a more apt time to make sure I’m prepared. I’ll just grab a couple of precautions—and hope that I don’t end up having to use them.
At five fifty-five, I make my way downstairs and out the front door. The rain from earlier has finally cleared up, and students mull about on the green, most of them moving in the loose direction of the union. Chatting, laughing, carefree.
A brisk breeze stirs the air, raising goosebumps along my forearms. I should’ve brought an outer layer—it’s only going to get colder once the sun goes down. Maybe I ought to run back upstairs, snag a sweater?—
I can’t.
Because it’s six o’clock on the dot, and, true to his word, Ryker is here.