Chapter 12
Mila
The cafeteria is packed—it always is, since it ’ s open 24/7 and gourmet chefs cook up the food.
Once we step inside, the change in the air ripples and cracks my newfound confidence. A part of me inches back into my shell, just like Dash predicted.
“ I, um,” I begin, feeling the pressure of people looking at Dash and me. The noise changes to hushed whispers. The question is, do the top predators consider Dash prey or competition?
“ I usually sit at that table over there.” I point to the far table in the back; it ’ s older and has a slight wobble. Most of the scholarship kids from different areas sit there. It ’ s in the shadows, forgotten. Safe.
“ Fuck. No.” Dash mutters as he runs a hand through his hair.
“ What?” I look up to meet his eyes.
“ Stop speaking on repeat, Mila. You heard me. We ’ re pausing for too long. It makes us look weak.” He begins to step, changing how he walks in general. He swings that crutch like a sword. Everyone notices. Some sink into their seats. Deranged students lean forward to get a better look at him.
“ Let ’ s get food, then I ’ ll assess where we will sit.”
“ The other tables are taken,” I mutter as I veer him towards the food line.
“ If I sit at that sad excuse of a table, I will look pathetic. You said it yourself; the cafeteria is where hierarchy is established.” His eyes scan the tables.
“ Forget about the food. Consider this a battleground because if you try to steal someone ’ s table, it ’ s going to be a bloodbath.”
We enter the food line, but I smell nothing but fear and anticipation. I glance down at his crutch. “ I ’ ll get us a tray. We can share it. Just tell me what you want.”
He wants to argue, look strong, and get his tray, but he can ’ t.
“ The food is good,” I begin, “ and tested regularly, so don ’ t think about drugging or spiking the punch.”
“ Was that your attempt at a joke?”
“ No. For real. Billy Wentworth tried to. He got caught.”
“ And?”
“ And what?” I reach for a bowl and begin to scoop my daily quinoa salad into it.
“ What happened to him?”
My hand hovers over the cranberries I usually add to the salad. “ Nothing.”
“ Exactly. Silverstone is the Wild West. So,” His gaze pierces a part of my soul that had been lying in slumber for far too long.
Thump! There goes that new pulse in my core.
“ Who is the sheriff in town? I need to know the top predators.” In that fleeting moment between our blinks, his gaze asks a question I ’ m too afraid to answer—will I become a predator one day? It ’ s the kind of look that fills me with a false sense of confidence, a lie I almost believe.
Is he encouraging me to fake it until I make it?
My warm breath fans out as I run my tongue over my lips. I have a liking for it, for him. I ’ m being pulled into this mysterious gray territory he ’ s leading me into, little by little.
My silence has him edging closer. “ Do you want me to pry the answer from your lips, Mila? Is that it?” He purrs in a low, dangerous suggestion. I can ’ t help but imagine his lips pressing against mine again. Touching other parts of my body.
My face must be a new shade of cranberry red. “ Yes. I…I mean, no!” I cough. Kill me now!
An amused smirk graces his stunning face. “ You need to learn how to hide it better.”
“ Hide what?” I hiss, agitated.
His intense gaze makes me feel as if his eyes are nails attempting to secure me to my self-imposed cross. “ Everything.”
I feel a burning sensation in my throat after swallowing. “ I usually can,” I whisper another secret to him, as if his mere presence has the power to sever all the strings I ’ ve held myself together with. Suddenly, I turn away from him while loading vegetables onto my plate.
His warm breath grazes my ear, causing me to whimper. I regret not having my hair down for an extra layer of protection from him. “ Perhaps the more appropriate question is,” He is so near that I can sense the soft brush of his lips against the curve of my ear. “ Why are you revealing so much about yourself to me? If you want me, just say so.”
I grip the tray so hard it shakes. “ The only thing I want from you is my ticket to freedom.”
A condescending chuckle grates on my ears. “ Freedom can be interpreted in various ways, little fox.”
His shadow stalks toward me as I move to the next food selection. “ Okay, I ’ ve succeeded in giving you a fright. Let ’ s go back to our other game. Which table do I need to fear?”
“ You didn ’ t scare me.”
“ Stop lying, or I ’ ll punish you.”
Lips pressed, I glare at him. “ You ’ re…you are…”
His grin widens. “ Cracking your shell?” His blond eyebrow lifts proudly.
“ Be careful what comes out, Dash King.” I sneer.
His gaze loses its humor and is replaced by satisfaction. “ Who should I keep an eye on?”
Forcing my eyes off the handsome devil I scan the cafeteria. There are the loud guys who want to be known, but they aren ’ t the most feared. Sure, they ’ d kill you for a sport, but if I have to consider who wouldn ’ t just kill me but do it slowly, well, only two men come to mind.
I ’ m smart enough not to tell Dash about them. I need to steer him clear of that table.
“ The middle table is taken by all the guys who enjoy participating in The Cleansing. You have Ashford, Pembroke, Montague, Alvarado, Bianchi, and Laurent. I ’ m sure you have heard of their families. They each have their own table with their followers. The guys are friendly during the week; they train together, but they also try to kill each other on the weekends. The other tables are either fans, wannabes, or their hookups. I ’ d just focus on the middle.”
Slowly, Dash glances over his shoulder towards the empty table. “ Who sits at the table on the dais?”
Not that one, you fool! “ Your competition is in the middle,” I state as I begin to fill my salad with protein in the form of beans and not meat.
“ That ’ s not what I asked.”
“ Do you want a salad?”
“ Mila,” Dash stresses.
“ I was just offering. What do you want to eat?” I glance up, wishing I didn ’ t. His pissed-off expression has me thinking he wants to devour me.
“ Something savory.” He growls, stepping closer so his hip brushes against my body.
“Not a calorie counter I see,”
“ Answer my real question.”
I look toward the most feared table. It ’ s the smallest table in the cafeteria and only allows six max. The two people who sit there would never allow others to join them. No one would be insane enough to try.
Even the other guys who seek power know that their power is too much, too dark for them to consume.
“ I don ’ t think you have to worry about them. They don ’ t participate in The Cleansing anymore.”
“ Why?”
“ I…I don ’ t know. I think it ’ s not considered a competition to them. It was too easy. They like to watch now.”
“ They like to learn,” he mutters to himself. “ I want names.” He says, his interest piqued.
I sigh, whispering their names so low Dash might not hear. “ Dante De Luca and Cillian Collins,”
“ Why. The. Fuck. Didn ’ t you tell me earlier?” He sneers so coldly that my soul just jumped out of my skin. Hey, get back here, you coward!
“ I…I honestly don ’ t think they will bother you. They rarely compete. They are an anomaly here. They keep to themselves.” I glance at him. “ Everyone knows not to bother them. Let’s play smart, Dash.”
He steps in front of me, making my next exhale bounce back in my face. “ Don ’ t you think I need friends like that, Mila?”
My breathing takes on a wheeze.
“ Get my food, then we ’ re going to sit at our new table.”
I gulp and shake my head, “ We?”
“ Yes!” He growls. He walks to the pizza section and mulls over their selection; today, it ’ s a white truffle triple cheese. “ Get two slices.” He orders. I ’ m so stunned I just do as he says.
“ We ’ re dead, Dash.” My fingers tremble as they sink into the crisp crust. I grab the slice and place it on the plate. “ My death is your fault,” I grumble partially as a joke. Glancing over my shoulder at him, I instantly regret it. Something I said really pissed him off. His pale cheeks flush a furious red. He takes a step closer to me and falters; it ’ s the first time he stumbles with his crutch.
“ You ’ re right. Your life is tied to mine now, little fox, so it ’ d be wise of you to stick by my side. Wander too far and another wolf might just hunt you down.” Those typically cold glacial blue eyes are now flickering, letting the hazel color shine through with…fear.
“ I…I meant it as a joke. Kind of, I guess. But seriously, we might die if we try to sit at that table. Let ’ s play it smart and choose another.”
He swings his crutch out suddenly, directly between my legs until it presses against me intimately.
“ Dash,” I gasp, my eyes widening in embarrassment and, okay, I admit it ’ s attraction. I try to step back to ease the pressure, but I ’ m trapped. Pinned down like his prey.
He lowers his lips to mine, but instead of a kiss, I feel his searing breath. “ Don ’ t you think I know you ’ re my responsibility, Mila? Don ’ t you think I ’ ve calculated your life into my plans? I fucking know, okay!”
“ I didn ’ t mean to stress you out. I just stated the obvious.”
“ Do me a favor and only talk when it ’ s useful,” he growls, his voice cutting like ice. “ You ’ re no good to me dead,” he mutters as he straightens, the tension radiating from him palpable.
I struggle to catch my breath, my heart pounds as I turn to grab the second slice of pizza. I only have the strength to say this with my back turned to him. “ You confuse me, Dash King. At times, I know I ’ m your pawn, but then you say things that make me think you really do want to be friends. But then I ’ m reminded I made a deal with the devil.”
Finally, I turn, my eyes searching his. “ What are you to me?” I ask, slightly pleading. It ’ s been less than an hour of knowing this man, and I feel like he has altered my course. I fear I will never find the old path again. I ’ m stuck in uncharted waters, relying on a monster to guide me.
“ I already told you. I ’ m your fire.” He pushes his crutch against me, adding more pressure against the apex of my thighs, and I gasp—or is it more of a moan?—he continues, “ Sometimes, I ’ ll give you warmth.” His lips graze against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
My breath is full-on panting as my core heats up into a roar. He shifts his crutch again, and it rubs against the most sensitive spot of my sex. My eyes roll back as my blood is replaced with adrenaline and pleasure.
“ Sometimes I ’ ll be your guiding light.” He pulls back, his eyes locking onto mine, filled with a mixture of lust, wanting, and the smallest hint of apology.
“ And other times, I ’ ll just burn every inch of you.” He declares as he violently pulls the pressure away from my body, taking the pleasure with him.
Immediately, I ’ m embarrassed; we ’ re in the cafeteria, barely concealed by the food tables. He had his crutch between my legs, and, oh god, it felt so damn good! It ’ s mortifying.
He looks down at me, his gaze intense. “ Come on, we ’ ve lingered too long. Predators don ’ t hide; they ambush. Let ’ s claim our table.”
We begin to walk to the forbidden table. My legs shake so badly that I think I need his crutch more than he does. Luckily for us, Dante and Cillian haven ’ t arrived yet.
Maybe I can talk some sense into him.
“ Dash,” I mutter.
He doesn ’ t reply. He walks with his head held high like a victor, taking the spoils of war.
Maybe he wants to die?