Chapter 5
Iback away instinctively as Devlin advances, his expression vibrating with a brand of fury I’ve never seen before.
Within seconds, the cool, industrial cinderblock of the hallway bites into my shoulder blades. There is nowhere left to run.
I force a shaky, pathetic smile onto my face—an automatic defense mechanism that feels brittle against his rage. “What—what’s that supposed to mean?”
“What do you think it means?” His voice is harsh, rough. “Who the hell handed you that card? Who wrote those fucking words to you?”
I swallow hard, my throat tightening as I tilt my head back to meet his gaze. He’s so much taller than me that I can barely see his face properly, just the terrifyingly sharp line of his jaw and the pulse thudding a frantic rhythm in his neck.
Then, I finally see that something dark and predatory flickers in his stare.
Before I can draw another breath, he slams both palms against the wall on either side of my head. The thud echoes in the narrow corridor, the vibration rattling my very bones.
The move is purely animalistic—he is caging his territory. A violent shiver races down my spine, but it makes my skin feel too tight for my body.
At least he believes me, I think desperately, clinging to the only shred of logic I have left. At least this maniac finally knows I didn’t write that filth to myself.
“Valya.”
The way he says my name—almost guttural, stripped of his usual mocking edge—makes my breath catch.
I’ve never heard Devlin call me that before. Never heard him use the shortened version of my Russian name that almost no one here uses. Not even my parents have called me that in years. Only Sasha sometimes, when we’re alone.
“One of the student Cupids,” I whisper, my voice tripping over itself. “He… he came into my room. He handed it to me just like he was handing out the rest of the campus mail.”
“When? Exactly.” Devlin is so close now I can feel the radiant heat of his chest through his t-shirt. “What did he look like? Give me a name.”
“He looked like a regular guy, Devlin! I don’t know—nothing stood out, I swear. Why does it matter so much? Do you think—”
“I’ve stopped thinking.” His voice drops into a raspy, dangerous register.
“I’m on fucking autopilot right now. And I don’t understand how you isn’t screaming.
I don’t get how you’re standing here, unable to describe the prick who delivered that note.
A card that talked about you… about you bouncing on a cock. About you…”
The words seem to catch in his throat, his jaw working as if the mental image is a physical weight he can’t swallow.
“…deep-throating a cock. You’re acting like it’s nothing.
” Now his voice turns furious. " Don’t you think whoever dared to even think that about you deserves to have their head put through a wall?
I’ll bash their skull in so hard their brains leak out of their fucking ears.
Is that graphic enough for you? Detailed enough? Just like that fucking card, hmm?”
“What is wrong with you, saying I don’t see anything strange?” My own temper finally spikes, pushing through the terror. “You think I like this? I’m the one who came to you! I’m the one who showed you the card!”
“And yet, you can’t even give me a decent description so I can find the prick,” he snarls.
“Maybe try talking like a sane human being for five seconds instead of a goddamn barbarian!” I shoot back.
Devlin’s jaw sets, a muscle leaping in his cheek. “I stopped being sane the second I read that card. When. Was. It?”
“Yesterday! He was tall, thin, had dark blond hair. He looked annoyed to be working. That’s all I have!” I pause, my breath hitching as the silence stretches. “I came straight to you.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I feel ashamed. They sound so pathetic, like I rushed straight over to Devlin the moment I found an excuse just to meet him.
I feel pathetic, and that makes me strike out.
“Happy? Have I passed your interrogation? Honestly, your reaction is so insane I’d almost think you’re hiding something.”
“What could I possibly be hiding?” He’s speaking almost right into my face now, his barely contained anger radiating from him.
“I have no clue! None!” I shout, my voice echoing.
“I really… can’t understand how I got dragged into this mess.
I didn’t do a thing. Absolutely nothing.
First, you ambush me in my room, accusing me of sending you some sick joke.
Now I get a card telling me all the things you’re going to do to me.
All these dirty words are… about me again, mind you!
And, by the way, the card is written in your name.
I mean, it implies that you’re going to do all this… to me.”
The memory of the card’s graphic promises flashes behind my eyes—images of Devlin’s hands and mouth on me, and the sheer, unapologetic filth of it…
My face burns, and I know he can see the flare of color.
“Or maybe you’re hiding something?” Devlin hisses through clenched teeth.
The air in the hallway has turned thick, humid.
I can feel a bead of sweat tracing the curve of my spine.
“You’re just throwing my own questions back at me. All the time!” I cry. “You’re not even making sense!”
“All the time? I can count on one hand how many times you’ve spoken to me, Val.”
Something about that sentence strikes me as odd, but I don’t have time to analyze it in detail. My emotions are boiling over.
“So let’s just leave it at that. Right now I’m ready to go—”
“You want sense?” He leans in until his forehead is pressed against mine, forcing me to stare into the abyss of his eyes.
“You think I’m going to let this go? We haven’t even started talking about how casually you’re taking this.
Like you’re used to being talked to like a whore.
Does this happen every Sunday, Wylie? Do your ‘friends’ send you graphic instructions on how to take a dick? Does Sasha know you’re okay with this?”
“Shut up!” I snap, my hand flying up to shove his shoulder. It’s like hitting a wall of solid granite. “Shut up about my brother.”
“Why didn’t you call him the second you read that trash?”
“How do you know I didn’t?!”
“Because he’d be here by now!” Devlin roars back, refusing to budge an inch. “He’d be on a flight from three states away, and more importantly, he would have called me!”
The hallway goes silent, save for our jagged, synchronized breathing. “W-what?” I whisper. “Why would he call you?”
Devlin goes rigid. The fire in his eyes doesn’t die, but it changes, smoldering into something heavy and suffocating.
All I can hear is his heavy breathing.
It’s becoming harder for me to get air into my lungs—from the heat of his closeness and the tension of the conversation.
“Because…” his voice is a strained growl, “that’s how it’s supposed to be.”
" You are such an arrogant prick, you know that? Just try telling Sasha about this.”
“I won’t, but not because Mr Naivety’s giving me orders, but because I’m going to handle it myself.”
“Oh, right. You’re saving me. Saving the poor, naive kid from the big, bad trolls.” I’m rambling now, the adrenaline making me reckless. “Or are you saving me from my own ‘vulgar nature’ because I’m not screaming loud enough about that card?”
I realize I’m getting carried away, but it’s impossible to stop now. I’ve never spoken to anyone so sarcastically before.
“Call it whatever the hell you want,” Devlin growls.
His hand moves from the wall to the back of my neck.
His fingers are calloused and hot, gripping the sensitive skin there with a possessiveness that makes my knees go weak.
“But you aren’t going anywhere without me.
From now on, you do exactly what I say until I find out who’s behind this. ”
When I came here to find Devlin, I’d imagined all sorts of ways this conversation might end.
I’d even imagined that we might become part of some small-town detective story, that we might start our own mini-investigation, and perhaps even have a proper chat for once.
But while I was daydreaming about getting to play Veronica Mars, Devlin had managed to make things as bad as they could possibly be.
Just like always, he wants to drag me through the mud and highlight what an idiot I am.
Devlin doesn’t do normal.
He does destruction.
He wants to drag me into his world and remind me exactly how much power he has over me.
“I’m not doing anything you say. You’re lost in your own head! By the way, you practically attacked me in my dorm. So maybe I should stay the hell away from you, you half-baked… barbarian!”
“Maybe you should,” Devlin almost spits out.
Then his head drops, and his mouth crashes against the side of my neck.
A shocked, strangled sound escapes me as I tilt my head back, offering him more room. I can’t believe it—I’m giving him exactly what he wants.
His lips are greedy, punishing, sucking at the soft skin just below my ear. His hand at the nape of my neck tightens, forcing my chest to flush hard against his.
His mouth goes desperate, teeth grazing my earlobe, and when that needy, humiliating moan breaks out of my throat, I want to sink into the floor and stay there.
“Fuck,” he wheezes against my skin, his breath scorching. “I need… let me taste you. More. Give me your skin… just let me go a little bit lower, just a little bit…”
His hand pulls at my t-shirt, stretching the fabric off my shoulder until it looks like it might tear.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his tongue dragging over my collarbone in a way that makes my entire world go white.
The friction is intense. I am burning everywhere he touches. My hands, which should be pushing him away, find the hem of his shirt instead, gripping the damp cotton for dear life. My hips betray me, rolling forward instinctively, seeking the heavy, solid pressure of his thigh.
It’s so weird, even crazy—he’s totally in control, but he’s also acting like he’s losing his mind. His hands know exactly what they’re doing, even though he’s acting like he’s starving for it.
With his other hand, he continues to hold my body close to him.
The contact is electric. I am hard—aching and desperate—and as I rub against him, a pitiful moan breaks from my throat.
I feel ashamed, but I cannot stop.
“Shit,” I mumble. “I…”
I’m unable to finish the thought.
“What? What is it, sweetie?” Devlin asks, his voice unrecognizable as he nips at the cord of my neck.
“Devlin,” is all I can gasp out.
“Fucking hell.” He pulls back just enough to grab my face, his thumb bruising my cheek as he forces me to look at him.
His eyes are completely blown out, dark with a hunger that terrifies and thrills me. Then he crushes his mouth against mine.
His tongue pushes past my teeth. I sink into him, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
Then I feel it.
His own erection is a thick, unmistakable ridge pressing hard against my hip. My eyes fly open in shock, my brain struggling to process the reality. Devlin is hard again. Devlin really wants me. He despises me—his eyes told me so a thousand times—but his body is telling a different story.
“T-touch me,” he groans against my lips, his breath hitching.
Before I can even find my bearings, his hand slides down between our bodies.
He finds the bulge in my jeans and squeezes, a low growl vibrating in his chest and he exhales loudly through his nostrils.
He begins to rub me through the denim, his movements rhythmic and expert, making my head fall back as I surrender to the friction.