Chapter 21 #2
I stand behind the door facing the mirror.
There's a chance she’ll see me in it before she steps through, but that'll make her Ash’s problem.
I'm betting on her being complacent. No one has been attacking her in her room.
Everything we've done so far has been about exposing her malicious actions about her public perception, not about what happens behind closed doors.
I'm done with that. I raise the textbook in my arms and focus.
I don't have to wait long.
Harlow’s gaze connects with mine as the door swings shut behind her. There’s a flash of fear in them just as the textbook slams into her nose and breaks it for the second time. She collapses to the ground and I grab a fistful of her hair.
I can't hear the screaming, thank God, and this time instead of holding her still, I drag her over to her bed and lay her out.
She's sobbing, great heaving breaths bursting out of her chest, and her hands are covering the mess that is her nose, not even trying to fend me off or fight back. Fuck, there’s no survival instinct in this girl and I want to scoff at how pathetic she really is.
I pull my knife out and show her the blade.
She freezes.
I lean down to speak into her ear so she can hear me over the music.
“I thought about slitting your throat for what you did.
I thought about gutting you, nice and slow, just like you deserve.
I could bleed you out and then call in an old friend to make you disappear, and you would disappear, Harlow.
No one would ever find you. But instead, I'm going to remind you that you're not invincible just because you sell yourself to Joey Beaumont.
You're pathetic and someday soon he’ll run out of uses for you.
You'll be his next victim and no amount of loyalty you show him will stop that.”
I hack away at her hair until half her scalp is bared. I need her afraid. I need this lesson to be impossible to minimize or ignore. I need her so fucking terrified that she will never think about hurting Avery again because if she does, I'm going to have to take her out.
“Now, I know you're going to want to run off to the principal or Joey to tattle on me but remember this: Avery Beaumont runs the cleanups at Hannaford. Joey’s too fucking high to manage anything, and Trevelen is bought and paid for. He belongs to us. You'll wear this warning and you'll swallow your pride because if you don’t, next time I’ll take your head instead of just your hair.”
I throw the fistful of locks on her chest and walk out without looking back. Ash takes one look at me and follows me as I stalk out of the girls’ dorm.
I pull my phone out and text Avery the details.
My arms are shaking.
The dark part of my heart, the inky black stain that lets me become the Wolf, grows and becomes something wild.
I’ve never used it to keep someone else safe before, because I’ve never had someone worth protecting.
It’s the first time I haven’t had to wrestle with complicated feelings for using it.
Avery Beaumont will wake up tomorrow because I’m suspicious and have the gut instinct of a seasoned FBI agent.
I’ve never been so relieved to be so damaged.
I stumble and Ash grabs my arm to steady me. He looks down at me with unreadable eyes and I just stare back at him, open and honest about what I’ve done. I mean, I’m covered in blood. There’s no hiding that.
“Come to my room. You can clean up there before you see Avery,” he says, his voice low and raspy.
I nod and let him lead me to the boys’ dorm.
There’s a lot of eyes on me as I walk one step behind Ash.
At first I think it’s the blood, that would make any normal person curious, but then as we make it into the dorm I spot Lance and his frown.
My chest tightens like a vise. Of course, none of these rich assholes care about some blood.
They’re all pissy because they think I’m about to fuck Ash and let him win the goddamn sweep.
I should have gone back to my own room.
“Take a photo of her right now, Smithson, and you’ll never walk again. Do you think your father will still love you if you’re not on the State Track team?” sneers Ash, and suddenly the room is moving and no one is looking my way. I can breathe again.
We stop outside a door at the end of the hall while Ash unlocks it. He has the same lock system as Avery and I. She must’ve organized it. Then he steps aside to beckon me into the room.
It’s fucking surreal.
The room is the exact same layout as the one Avery and I share but with an extra California King bed. There isn't a doubt in my mind over who sleeps where. Ash’s bed is immaculately made, dark bedding, his nightstand only holding a phone charger and a pair of glasses.
Harley's bed is also perfectly made, but he has a patchwork blanket on the end and books overflowing from the nightstand. At the foot of his bed there's a shelf with even more books.
And then there's the messy nest that Blaise sleeps in.
Everything looks clean enough, but I can still see the exact position he must've woken up in etched into the pillows and blankets.
There's a guitar hanging over his bed and picks everywhere. Tantalizingly, there's an open notebook on the pillow and I can see his handwriting and little pictures all over the pages. His lyric book. Fuck me. He’s been sharing little snippets with me for months but it’s still tempting as fuck to look.
I do a double take when I see another copy of the photo I gave Avery on the wall in their kitchen, framed and placed where they’d all see it every day just like ours. My heart does a weird little flip in my chest and I have to look away.
“I'll grab you something to change into, the towels are under the sink. Use whatever you need,” Ash says as he moves around the room. He doesn't look at me and I'm worried he's regretting bringing me here.
“I can go. Aves has seen me worse than this, she's fine.”
He snorts and flicks the coffee machine on. My stomach rumbles. I missed out on dinner and caffeine sounds perfect.
“Just take a shower, Mounty.”
So I do.
The bathroom looks more like I'd expect from three guys living here.
Piles of dirty laundry and towels are in the overflowing basket and there's shaving cream still in the sink. I strip and, with few options, I throw my clothes into their laundry pile. Avery can get them back for me, and I make a mental note to ask her. The water is cranked up and blisteringly hot. I’m weak so I use a little bit of each of their soaps and shampoos.
I like them all but I love the smell of all three mixed together more.
Once I'm out and wrapped in a towel, Ash knocks and hands me a pile of clothes without looking at me, which is exactly what I need because I'm a bumbling, blushing idiot only covered by the towel.
Then I slip my underwear back on and the yoga pants he handed me.
They're Avery's, I've seen her in them before, so it's a decent fit and I don’t have to think about which girl left them behind in their room.
The shirt is one of his, a black V-neck that's softer than cashmere, and it hangs off my small frame.
I dry my hair and once it's tied up, I take a deep, calming breath before walking out.
There's a cup of coffee on the counter, and Ash has one of his own, so I grab it and take a big gulp, praying the heat soaks into me and the caffeine gives me the energy to get through whatever bullshit he is going to throw at me.
“Why did Joey call the seniors off you? The real reason.” He still doesn't look at me from where he sits on his bed, his long legs braced against the floor and his big hands cradling the coffee cup.
“Someone from Mounts Bay found out about the bet. He's Joey’s dealer. Actually, he's at the top of the drug dealing food chain. This guy didn't like the idea of me being a bet, so he warned Joey to stay away.”
Ash hums and takes another sip of his coffee before putting it down. “Why didn't Joey just find a new supplier?”
“The guy owns all of the dealers. Everyone in the state leads back to him so he told Joey that he'd never touch an ounce of anything again if he didn't back off.”
Ash nods again and I tip back the last of my drink. I want to fidget but I force myself to stay still. When Ash doesn't say anything else I start to move toward the door, giving him space seems like the right thing to do in this moment.
His fingers curl around my wrist to stop me.
His eyes stay trained on the floor, unblinking, and I take a step toward him.
My heart is thumping, I don’t know why, but I feel like something has shifted in him and, finally, the gaping chasm between us is disappearing.
He tugs me into him and moves his free hand to the back of my neck, gently cradling my nape and rubbing the silky curls there.
With his height and the height of the bed, I still have to tilt my head up to look up at him.
Standing between his legs, staring into his icy blue eyes, he’s surrounding me until all I can see, all I can feel, is him.
I take a shuddering breath and the sound of it breaks the dam of his control as he pulls me into a kiss.
His lips are hot and demanding, he swallows my gasp and pushes me for more until all I can do is give in to him.
I’m less nervous about kissing now, thank God.
I want to give him everything I can, and he grunts as my teeth tug on his bottom lip.
His hands move to fit over the curve of my waist, his fingers stroking and teasing me.
He groans and lifts me up against his chest, my feet dangling and his strong arms banding around me, holding my weight like it’s nothing.
I can’t think. The world around us is spinning and turning until I’m laid out on his perfect bed and he’s hovering over me, our bodies only touching where his lips meet mine in a searing kiss.
I want more. I want him pressing me into the bed, I want him grinding against me, I want him to touch every inch of my skin.
I want him to own me.
It’s that thought that slams me back to reality and I break away from his lips.
He’s running on a high from avenging his sister.
He’s cut Annabelle loose. If I let this continue, he doesn’t even know he’s risking his life for a quick fuck.
And, as crushing as it is to even think, that’s exactly what I am to him.
Another notch on the post of his ridiculously comfortable and luxurious bed.
Seriously, where do rich people get their sheets?
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, just to feel and enjoy having him so close for a little longer, and when I finally open them I see he’s doing the same.
He’s probably cursing himself out for being stuck here with the frigid Mounty.
“I can’t,” I croak at him and he nods, his eyes still shut.
Neither of us move. I just stare up at his heartbreakingly handsome face until he finally lets out a shuddering breath and rolls off me.