3. Adrian
There are certain things we shouldn’t want. She was one of those things.
The only reason he came to the Halloween party was to give Caspian, his ex-roommate turned friend-and-neighbor, a good kick in the ass to get over a broken heart. Stepping away from the playboy life was one thing, but sulking over a girl who took him for granted was another.
Caspian had become so pathetic that getting him outside had been worth going to Jace’s frat house—the pretentious prick whose family controlled one of the most violent biker gangs in town, Red Dragon. Jace was their spoiled heir, and he acted like it. Best to avoid the kid.
But like clockwork, she found him—cloaked in dark fabric that brought out her porcelain skin like a Halloween apparition, complete with vibrant, glittering green eyes and lips that begged to be kissed and bitten. Her witch costume had easily become his favorite of the night.
The first time he’d seen her, the brunette blended in like any average college student, albeit a cute one with a sweet laugh, but she did nothing to stand out. In fact, he wouldn’t have singled her out at all if she hadn’t locked onto him, almost as if a target had been placed on the center of his forehead.
Ever since he’d been a teenager sneaking into the club, he learned when a woman wanted to hook up. They each had their own way of preening their feathers, of highlighting the assets they thought would be most desirable. He found it amusing to see what they thought he liked, even though his interest had always been drawn to their eyes.
Most importantly, he learned to feel out their desire. Whether they sought immediate gratification or wanted to satisfy a deeper need. He made a point of picking up on what they wanted, what turned them on, and what they fantasized about. Things other men had obviously missed.
Yet when this girl studied him, he got the impression she’d want more than to be alone together in a dark room. As if she actually wanted to figure out who he was instead of sharing a quick moment of mutual indulgence.
She looked at him like she saw something more, and that’s why he wouldn’t return her gaze.
Whoever she thought he was—whoever she assumed he might be—he wasn’t.
They all found out one way or another.
But stubbornly, her eyes returned every time. Every night, when they ended up in the same place, she’d spot him. He wondered if she recognized him from somewhere or remembered his face from the news five years ago. The latter was unlikely since he long outgrew his boyish features.
Still, her attention unnerved him. So he started keeping tabs on her, developed the habit of sensing her before she noticed him, and picked up little details along the way. Like how she wasn’t keen on flaunting herself, the kind of girl who didn’t notice all the attention she got because she was too focused on everyone else, and how she liked to spend more time listening than talking.
Between glances at him, she would search out her friends. She hardly drank, whether out of preference or forbearance, he didn’t know, but she had an uncanny ability to be where she was needed the moment others needed her. More often than not, he’d catch her tending to a drunken friend and staying sober enough to drive them safely back home.
Above all else, she was kind. She deserved to be cared for as much as she cared for others.
So he handed her a business card and left. His heart wasn’t soft like hers; it was hard and jagged and would only cut into those who touched it. A fair relationship wouldn’t be something he could offer. Better that she moved on because he wanted nothing to do with her. Or that’s what he told himself.
He wanted everything to do with her.
Another trait stood out about her nature, written all over those round doe eyes and that sweet smile, even when she painted her lips in sinful plum. No, especially then. It came out in the way she migrated to dominant energies without shying away, yet remained reserved. The way she responded to his every movement out on the porch, as if she’d been waiting for him to take control.
In the bedroom, she’d be a natural submissive.
She’d want to be tied up and put on display for her master, praised for being such a good girl. Her pleasure lay in serving someone else as they drew out her hidden desires. She’d crave a little bitterness to balance out all that sweetness inside her.
And he bet she tasted as sweet as she looked.
But that wasn’t for him to find out. He wasn’t just a dose of bitter medicine—he was poison. The kind that took all the sweetness away from girls like her. There were more ways to lose innocence than kinky sex, and she didn’t need to learn about the dark corners of the world.
He needed to put an end to it, this growing curiosity that continued to draw them together.
Her look of dejection as he walked away clawed his heart, but only a little. A small scratch would be nothing next to the older scars that marred his ability to care the way she could—the way she cared about him without even knowing.
Certainly, it was nothing compared to how he’d feel if he hadn’t taken this step now, if he waited until the sadness in her eyes spilled out in clear streams because he tried to be someone he wasn’t. Her tears would’ve hurt ten times more. So he made sure he’d never make her cry. Not even once.
His words may have stung, but they proved his point that she had to protect her heart from the beginning. Tonight, she could still have a good time, go back to her friends to call him a jerk, then write him off for good. Ironic how the one time he made an exception to give out his number, he hoped it wouldn’t be used.
He watched from just inside as she refused to move from their spot on the deck. Her hands circled the red cup, strangling it much like the dark night that had slowly begun to swallow her. Goosebumps pebbled her skin as her costume swayed in the breeze. He frowned. She’d catch a cold like that.
Finally, her gaze dislodged from where he’d last been, and a faint glow from her phone lit her features. He pretended to sip his beer and kept her in his peripheral vision. The first drink had already worn off, but the party might as well be over.
A group of three loud Beta Rho boys interrupted the scene and sauntered into the kitchen. His scowl deepened as Jace walked by, strutting around in a supposed ‘costume’ of a red robe and flashy jewelry. Jace’s father must be so proud to have that as heir to the Red Dragon empire. Good thing Jun, the older brother, acted as a more adequate representative.
The boys jostled past without acknowledging him and went out onto the porch. Looked like they just wanted to pass around a joint, but he didn’t trust them. Not by themselves, and certainly not with her.
Yet Ivory still didn’t get up to leave, too caught up typing on her phone.
He cracked his knuckles, trying to feign an air of indifference as they started up a conversation. Maybe he should let it go. Turn and walk away.
Two of the boys stepped over to smoke by the hot tub, but Jace couldn’t keep his damn eyes off her.
He set the beer down, no longer concerned with whether it was his place to supervise or not. Call it overbearing, but he’d spent too many years watching over his mother and sister to ignore a predator when he saw one.
The way Jace looked at Ivory disgusted him, as if she was some kind of trivial possession whose purpose was to feed his entitlement. Worse, the moment her lips tipped down, Jace’s curled into a smile. Like he’d won some sort of twisted, one-man competition.
Ivory stood and crossed her arms. Her eyes flashed, and despite gnawing irritation at the scene, a glow of admiration pricked his thoughts. A little flare in her did wonders.
She kept inching toward the house, but Jace met her step for step. Then he leaned in close—too fucking close—and reached over to fiddle with the edge of her purple cloak. The fire in her eyes blazed, and she swatted away his hand, but it only seemed to egg him on as he brought it back to caress her face with a laugh.
Adrian took a step toward them, hand hovering by the handle of the glass door. She’d done a decent job of standing up for herself, but it was time for her to leave. If Jace and his friends dared try and follow, they had another thing coming.
He almost wanted them to. A broken nose and a black eye would be a start if he were feeling nice.
He wasn’t feeling nice.
Waiting for her to come inside, he watched Jace’s smile grow into a smirk, and he murmured something low to Ivory. She crippled. That sweet, delicate face fell even further than before, and her flames diminished to smoky defeat.
That was the last straw.
Ripping the door open, Adrian clenched his hand into a fist and squared his shoulders, coming up to stand beside her as an emissary of destructive karma. Her eyes flicked over him and widened.
“What happened to that smile of yours, sweetheart?” he asked, locking eyes with Jace. “Did he steal it?”
A small sound left her lips, a hint of a low laugh and a little gasp of surprise. “Didn’t think you cared.”
“I care much less about his smile than yours.”
“Come on, bro,” Jace interjected, lips curved in that irritating shit-eating grin of his. “I didn’t do anything. We were just catching up. Besides” —Jace shifted his attention back to Ivory, twirling a wayward strand of her hair— “we’re friends. I can get Ivory to smile for me anytime.”
She stiffened, and the tension in her muscles sliced through him like the edge of a knife. An exaggerated version of how she reacted when he blew smoke in her face. He’d done it to test if she’d call him out, but she hadn’t. Now, when confronted with someone far worse, she wouldn’t call this bastard out, either.
“Is that true?” he asked, directing the question to her.
She shook her head, the brim of her witch hat hiding her expression as her hair fell from Jace’s hand. “I’m just waiting for a ride.”
Of course it wasn’t fucking true. This pathetic waste of particles couldn’t make anyone smile, but the rejection meant more coming from her mouth.
Then she added in a whisper, “We aren’t friends, either.”
Jace laughed. “Come on. Are you really about to do this? Call me a mistake after—”
“You weren’t a mistake,” she said, flames rekindling as she turned to face him. Her head lifted, eyes locked onto Jace’s with the same perseverance he’d seen in her night after night. “You’re a joke .”
Jace sneered, and anger flashed behind his eyes. He took a step closer, positioning his body over hers like a threat—as if he’d really be able to get away with hurting her more. Adrian stepped between them.
“That’s how it is?” Jace hissed, glaring at Ivory. “I think it’s much more hilarious that this good-girl thing you’ve got going on is a fucking lie.” He stretched his fingers, balling them into fists, and turned to Adrian. “I’ll tell you the truth. She’s a whor—”
Yeah, no way was he about to finish that sentence.