Chapter Thirteen
Lia doesn’t noticeme approaching at first. She looks distracted—nervous, perhaps? How cute. A tight black top leaves her shoulders exposed, and she’s tied her hair back, leaving the full expanse of her sweet, slender throat visible for me to feast my eyes on. I wish she’d unfold her arms, loosen up a little bit… but there will be time for that later.
When I’m only a few strides away, she looks up, and our eyes lock.
Color kisses her cheeks. So sensitive. Delicate. I keep my own expression cool as I close the last of the distance between us.
“You’re right on time,” she says. Her voice is soft but clear, a murmur rather than a mumble.
“I keep my promises.”
She’s taking stock of me in a series of swift glances, lingering on my leather jacket and biking boots. When I pull my gloves out of my back pocket, she flashes me a curious look, a silent question.
“You didn’t think we’d be walking to the city, did you?” I ask with the faintest of smiles. “Come on—I’m parked at the edge of campus.”
“Parked?” she repeats, uncertainly. “I thought cars weren’t allowed on the island.”
“I don’t drive a car.”
She keeps pace with me despite my much longer legs, two of her steps for each one of mine, and doesn’t even have to catch her breath when we arrive at the front gates. Her practiced dancing and toned muscles don’t lie—this girl knows how to take care of her body.
“The steps get slippery when it rains,” I warn her as we begin our descent towards the precipice leading to the mainland. “I’d hate to have to bring you to the city in a body bag.”
She shoots me a quick, suspicious look. “You’ve got a morbid sense of humor.”
“Who said I was joking?”
She gives no reply, but picks her steps carefully on the water-slicked stone, hands hovering at her sides to maintain her balance. Focused as she is, she doesn’t seem to notice my motorcycle propped against the gate until it’s right in front of her.
Laying a hand on the seat, I glance over my shoulder at her with a smile. “You ever ridden one of these before?”
She shakes her head, eyes wide. I’m not one to flaunt material possessions, but I’m a bit proud of the bike, and I savor the sight of her taking it in—gleaming chrome, sleek body, unblemished scarlet paint.
“I’ve never even seen a motorcycle in real life,” she admits. “God, it’s so big.”
Does she realize how those words make me throb? If she thinks she can tease me on purpose, she’d better be careful. I can appreciate some light flirtation, but I’m not her plaything—she’s mine. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she remembers that.
“You’re not afraid, are you?”
“I’ve heard horror stories,” she admits. “People splitting their heads open…”
“That’s what this is for.” I say, grasping a helmet from the seat of the bike and extending it towards her. “Put this on.”
She hesitates for a moment before taking the helmet. “Where’s your helmet?”
Me… a helmet?
I can’t even remember the last time I wore a fucking helmet.
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Why?” She questions, her eyes glancing to the helmet before raising to meet mine once more. “What if we get into an accident? You need to have a helmet to protect yourself.”
I don’t know whether to sneer at her concern or relish in it. Clearing my throat, I shake my head with a soft chuckle.
“I’m not going to crash the bike, Lia.”
It’s the first time I’ve spoken her name aloud, and I love the shape of it in my mouth. Delicate and sweet, just like her.
“I didn’t mean?—”
“You can trust me.”
“Can I?”
A keener response than I was expecting. “With this? Yes.”
“And with… other things?”
“Are you saying that you’re scared of me?”
“I’m saying that I’ve heard the way people talk about you.”
Well, isn’t that just fucking adorable. As if anybody hasn’t heard. “And do you believe the things they say?”
She swallows hard and glances over her shoulder, back towards the steps winding up to the castle. Contemplating, maybe, whether she ought to take off running back where she came from.
“If you’re scared,” I tell her, “I won’t force you to get on this bike. You can go have a normal dinner in the student union with your friend. But I won’t be happy about it. And if you do decide to get on, you don’t get any more promises. You’re mine for the evening.”
Lia draws in a short, hard breath. “I don’t care about your promises. If you think I’m going to bend to whatever crap you throw my way, you can forget about it.”
Crap? Really? Now there’s a hell of an interesting turn—she thinks she can defy me, and yet she won’t even let herself utter a proper curse word. As delicate as she is, she’s not backing down the way that she’s meant to—the way that anyone else would.
Fine; I can take a challenge. Maybe a subtler approach, a facade of softness to lure her in. “All right. Suit yourself. Are you coming with me or not?”
She darts another glance towards the school, turns back to me, and dips her chin in a single brisk nod.
“Good. Here, I’ll help you up.”
She steps forward, teeth edging nervously at her lower lip, and I can feel her body tense when I fit my gloved hands around her waist, just as I did at the party. She’s feather-light; it takes almost nothing to hoist her onto the seat of the motorcycle.
“You’re going to sit behind me. Arms around my stomach, fingers laced in the front. If the bike tilts, don’t resist. Lean into the turns. Keep your body snug against mine, and follow my lead. Stiffen up too much and you’ll throw us off balance.”
“There’s no… seatbelt or anything?”
I don’t answer, just swing my leg over the bike and settle my boots against the footpegs. Her arms are tentative as they fold around me, hovering, not quite coming into contact with my abs.
“You’re going to have to hold on a lot tighter than that,” I warn her.
She nestles closer, and I let myself enjoy the warm pressure of her body as it aligns with my own. Thighs flush with mine, arms wound tight around my jacket. Crushed against my back, she has no way of knowing how her proximity hardens me.
“Like this?” she asks, breath stirring against my ear.
“Better. Now, whatever you do, don’t even think about letting go.”
The engine snarls to life at my touch. Her slender muscles tense around me as the metal frame vibrates beneath us, and a throb of potent hunger twitches my already aching cock. I could call off the formalities, bring her back to the frat house and get what I truly want—hell; I could have her right here in the rain-soaked grass, exposed for all the world to see.
That’s what I should be doing. All this fanfare, taking her into the city, treating her to dinner—I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking. I can imagine Freddie’s incredulous cackle: Are you fucking possessed or what?
Possessed by something, maybe.
But I can’t let myself think too hard about what it all means. A man like me isn’t built for relationships. And even if I were, my lifestyle is difficult enough without worrying about some girl… no matter how perfectly her body fits against mine.
I shift into gear, lean into the sea-scented wind, and let the bike roar forward, leaving any and all stupid fucking fantasies to choke on the fumes in my wake.
The motorcycle’s engine is too loud for any conversation—something that I’ve always loved about it. Riding it is as instinctive as breathing, and I can let my mind lapse into blankness, focus drifting to my physical senses: crisp breeze, the rumble of metal between my legs, the thunder of Lia’s frantic heartbeat stirring my chest along with hers. She’s almost hyperventilating, and I can feel every little puff of warm breath against the back of my neck. Scared, even if she won’t admit it. This girl has a stubborn streak, but I’ll tease it out of her. I always do.
Carnadon City gleams rusty red in the dying sunlight of early evening, its spires and sloped roofs cutting a vivid silhouette across the blank slate of the sky. Nightlife won’t start hopping for another few hours, and I intend to have Lia far away from this place by then. Even with the city’s notorious reputation, few people know just how dangerous it can get after dark. There’s danger in the daytime too, of course, but it keeps to itself if you don’t go seeking it out. When shadows flood the streets and every respectable citizen has double-locked their doors, all bets are off. Stefano Lombardi’s men come out in droves, my dad’s guys rise up to meet them, and no corner of the city is safe.
This early, though, Carnadon is unrecognizable as the nest of crime and secrecy teeming under its surface. Couples of all ages stroll hand-in-hand by the waterside, diners chatter away behind the glass fronts of cafes, and men and women around my own age trail out the doors of neon-lit nightclubs. City kids—Carnas, as far as Crimson Elite students are concerned. These people are too fucking stupid to get into the school sitting right on their doorstep. If any one of them so much as looks the wrong way at Lia, they’ll be short a few teeth when they turn up to class at their little community colleges tomorrow.
I’ll make sure of it.