Chapter 10
I’m crawlingup into a sitting position, my ass sore as the echoes of my orgasm are still radiating through my body.
I watch as Roman empties himself, one hand curled around his shaft, the other pressed against the wall behind the bed, supporting himself. His teeth are clenched, and a tic starts pulsing in his jaw.
When he’s done, he looks up at me. I’m not sure what to say, or do, so I don’t move at all. But what I see reflected back to me is anger. Hatred, even. He looks disgusted. By me.
Shame fills me, twisting my stomach. I don’t really give a fuck what he thinks, except that it seems to mirror my own dark thoughts about myself. When Roman initially started this, I’d recoiled from the violence, overtaken by panic, barely able to breathe, but…I don’t know, at some point, the pain had contorted into something that felt…incredible. And the fact that I got pleasure from something so twisted makes me feel physically ill.
It must sicken him, too, because even now, he has his back turned to me as he pulls his clothes back on. He appears deep in thought, not talking to me, not looking at me, which just compounds my shame by a thousand percent.
He’s disgusted with me. Hell, I’m disgusted with myself. Silver lining, at least we’re on the same page about something.
Once his clothes are back on, he starts pacing. Then out of nowhere, he screams “fuck!” at the top of his lungs, and slams his closed fist against the wall in front of him. There’s a loud crack, and for a second, I’m afraid he may have broken his hand. But when he pulls his hand away, I see an indent in the wall, and a crack that snakes up to the ceiling.
Holy shit.
I push myself up and against the headboard, unsure what to do. I’ve clearly upset him somehow, and I’d gladly leave, but with him pacing around the room, picking fights with walls, I feel like my best bet is staying on the bed, and making myself as small as possible. Invisible.
Minutes tick by—I don’t even know how many—and in all that time, he doesn’t say anything. Not a damn thing to explain his erratic behavior. He’s just pacing, raking his hand through his hair, looking more pissed than I’ve ever seen him, which is saying something, because this guy is perpetually grumpy.
Then, out of nowhere, he walks to the door, wrenches it open, and leaves, slamming the polished slab of wood behind him, the painting on the wall jumping with the force of it.
I wait for a couple of seconds, my breath held.
What the actual fuck was that?
I’m so confused. He’s the one who started all this. He’s the one who introduced me to the darker side of himself—his words. But I lied earlier. I guess I do care what he thinks. I hate that his opinion of me matters, but seeing that disgust on his face stings.
But why that reaction now? We’d had sex before, and he didn’t have that reaction. Goddamn, it’s just one more mystery that is Roman-fucking-Rush.
I shake my head, and climb down off the bed, gathering my clothes up off the floor. My ass feels like it’s on fire, and my entire body aches. What just happened between Roman and me was intense. More intense than anything I’d ever experienced before and I have a feeling I’ll be sore for days.
As I wander into the bathroom to clean up and get dressed, I wonder what the fuck I should do. Walk out there and address his very obvious anger, or just grab my backpack and run for the hills?
Damn. I just don’t understand what I did so wrong. But why do I care? I despise him. I should be happy he’s pissed. Maybe now he’ll leave me alone.
But, I don’t know…the thought of him angry at me sits like a lead weight in my chest, heavy and uncomfortable.
I really need to call Dr. Cunningham, because even I can see that this shit between Roman and me is toxic, and I’m trying to be better about protecting my mental health. But just a couple weeks into being a college student, and I’m already failing miserably.
As I’m pulling my t-shirt on, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and see a flash of red. My neck is bleeding. Like, actual streams of blood trickling down my neck.
I grab a tissue from the box on the counter, and dab it. Once I get the bleeding to stop, I can see three or four perfectly shaped teeth marks indented in my skin.
Great, that’s going to be impossible to hide.
And I’d be pissed, except I know I did the same to him. His shoulder is probably bleeding, too. That thought gives me a flash of sick satisfaction that I immediately push away.
Is it wrong that I’m happy about marking him? I remind myself again that I shouldn’t care, but the fact that another girl might see that bite mark gives me a lot of joy.
Ugh, I’m so messed up.
I find a small bandage in the medicine cabinet, then go back into Roman’s bedroom, and hunt for my phone. I find it on the floor next to the bed, then shove it into my back pocket and creep out into the hallway.
This is an old house, so every step I take causes a floorboard to creak, and I wince with every step. Roman knows I’m here, obviously, but would he try to stop me if he knew I was leaving?
Honestly, I don’t want to find out.
I just want to get the fuck out of here and forget the last two weeks ever happened. And given the look of disgust on Roman’s face earlier, I’m guessing he wants the same thing. So I’m going to do us both a favor and sneak out of here without making a scene.
As I make my way down the back staircase, I hear voices vibrating through the bottom floor of the house, booming, masculine voices that echo off the wood paneling.
“So where’s your chick, Roman?” one of the guys asks. Jackson, I think. I suspect it’s him, because he sounds serious, and Jackson is the most serious of the four guys.
“Oh, yeah, hey, great question,” Christian laughs. I know it’s him because everything he says is right on the heels of laughter. “Probably in bed, recovering from that epic fuckfest.”
“Yeah, damn dude,” yet another voice, which must be Lucas. “You guys were so fucking loud. At one point, it sounded like you were strangling the bitch. I thought we might be burying a body tonight.”
I frown at his comment, but same, dude. Same.
Laughter echoes through the huge house, and I don”t even stop to listen to Roman’s response. Once I’m at the bottom of the stairs, I move quickly through the kitchen and head out the back door. As the door clicks shut behind me, I book it back to campus. The faster I can get away from Roman Rush and his fucked up crew, the better…
I don’t hear from Roman for the rest of the evening, which is strange for him. Normally, he’d be blowing up my phone, angry that I’d left without his permission. Instead, there’s a deafening silence, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Happy? Sad? Relieved? A toxic soupy mixture of all three?
The next day, I’m headed to the library, when a text pops up on my phone from an unknown number.
Lux, it’s Ash. I hope this isn’t weird, but I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.
For a second, I wonder how he got my phone number, and then I remember—the flyers, maybe? Nathan and I put them up all over campus. I blink down at the text, and consider how I should respond before ultimately deciding to type out an honest answer.
I’m not sure how I’m doing, actually. It’s complicated, I guess.
I watch the typing bubbles pop up for a second before his response comes through.
Campus coffee shop? 10 minutes?
I smile down at my phone. He’s the only person who’s actually asked how I’m doing. Even Roman has been oblivious to the fact that I’m struggling. Either that or he just doesn’t care. And everyone else is too busy with their own lives, they only deal with me when they’re forced to. But the fact that Ash reached out is sweet, actually.
Sounds good.
I have a couple hours before my next class, anyway. Coffee and conversation with a sympathetic stranger wouldn’t hurt. Turning on my heel, I head in the direction of the campus coffee shop. It’s all the way across campus, so it takes me about 10 minutes to get there. As I walk up, I see him immediately—sitting alone at a table outside, staring down at his phone, a shock of blond hair falling over his forehead. He always has that windswept, just-been-to-the-beach look about him. Like he lives in the ocean, and just comes up to mingle with us humans once in a while.
When I walk up, he looks up from his phone and flashes those perfect teeth. There’s a coffee cup in front of him and one in my spot.
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got you a mocha. It has chocolate in it, so I figured it’d be a safe bet,” he says with that friendly smile.
I lower myself into the seat across from him, and immediately take a sip. It’s still hot, which is heavenly. “Thank you. That was really nice of you.”
He leans back in his chair and studies me, those ocean-blue eyes moving over my face, which makes me self-conscious. He’s a little less polished than Roman and his crew, but in a casual, I-don’t-give-a-fuck kind of way. Jeans, flip flops, and a Hawaiian shirt that’s pulled open to reveal his tanned, muscled chest.
He takes a sip of his coffee. “You look tired.”
I laugh, uncomfortable with his honest assessment. “That obvious, is it?”
It’s true. Last night my thoughts had centered on Bree, and when I’d finally forced those thoughts away, they were quickly filled by Roman. And thoughts of him aren’t easily displaced. Like Roman in real life, he has a larger-than-life presence, and he takes up a lot of space in my head.
“It’s been a rough week,” I say vaguely, shifting in my chair. My ass is still sore from yesterday, and I can’t seem to get comfortable.
Leaning forward, he looks into my eyes. And unlike in Roman, all I see is sincerity. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for what happened at the club the other night. It’s all I’ve been thinking about, and you shouldn’t have been put in the middle of that.”
Yeah, understatement of the year, but I shrug away his apology out of politeness. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since it happened.”
I nod, and honestly, just to shift the conversation, I ask, “So, what’s up between you and Roman, anyway?”
I can tell by the way he leans back in his chair, that what I just asked is a loaded question, and that has me even more intrigued.
Ash shakes his head, like he’s sorting through everything in his memory, and trying to pick out the highlights. “Roman and I go way back,” he says politely. “I mean, fuck, our parents were friends when we were kids. We hung out practically every weekend from the age of five onward.”
“So you were close,” I surmise.
He nods. “Yeah, pretty close, until a couple years ago.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“I don’t know, I guess we just…grew up. Roman and I are very different. I mean, we just have different views on life in general. Like this whole campus royalty shit. It’s fucked up.”
I laugh at that, because I have a hard time believing Ash would refuse the crown if it were offered to him. It’s usually the guyswho aren’t in power that have a problem with it. “I doubt you’d be saying that if you were a Sacred Son,” I say.
“My last name is Ashford,” he says pointedly.
I shake my head and take a sip of my mocha. “Okay, and?”
“Wow, you really didn’t read the ExU pamphlet, did you?” he laughs. “My great-grandfather was a founding member of this University, and the Burning Crown. So by rights, I should be a Sacred Son.”
Oh, now that’s interesting. “So why aren’t you, then?”
“I just told you. The whole concept of campus royalty is fucked up.” He shrugs. “So I refused to be initiated.”
Wow. “That’s actually pretty impressive, refusing power like that.”
He frowns. “Roman never agreed with my decision. But after all that shit happened with his brother, I knew I’d made the right choice.”
I perk up at the mention of Roman’s brother—the brother he never mentions. I lean back in my chair, coffee in hand, trying not to look too interested, even though my heart rate is speeding up. “So, uh, what happened with his brother?”
It occurs to me that we’re sitting at a coffee shop on a campus where Roman rules supreme. And his pseudo-girlfriend sitting with his arch-enemy is going to attract attention. But I don’t care. Roman has to be shown that he can’t dictate every single facet of my life.
Ash pushes out a breath. “What didn’t happen with his brother?” He shakes his head. “That guy is unhinged. But Roman idolizes him. Mr. Rush was pretty abusive when they were kids, and they relied on each other a lot.”
“Abusive physically?” I ask. “Emotionally?”
I’m digging, because I doubt I’ll ever get any of this from Roman himself. He’s a very closed, very private book, and he rarely opens up about himself.
Ash blows out a breath, and shakes his head. “Both. I mean, I remember times when Roman was beaten so badly, he had to be taken to the hospital. But because his dad has some pretty high-powered connections–” He spreads his arms “–nothing was ever done about it. So Roman and his brother just had to take it, until, eventually, they got old enough to start fighting back.”
My God. My heart aches for Roman. He’s a fucking asshole, but as my therapist loves reminding me, “hurt people, hurt people.” It’s not an excuse for treating other people like shit, but it’s an explanation, at least.
I shake my head. “I don’t get it. What does any of that have to do with you, though?”
He tilts his head back and rakes a hand over his face, like getting into it is going to bring up some really old shit. But he’s the one who brought this up, so I don’t even feel a little guilty about making him spill the details.
“A couple years ago, we were all at a party, and some shit went down. There was a fight between Roman’s brother, and some dude. The other guy was beat up pretty bad—almost died. An ambulance was called, cops got involved. And when it came down to it, Roman wanted me to cover for his brother, but I wouldn’t do it.” He sits up straighter. “I mean, this dude is a fucking lit fuse. It’s only a matter of time before he kills someone.” His blue eyes flick up to meet mine. “And Roman is his carbon-fucking-copy.”
I swallow, remembering Roman beating Tyler up, and his hand around my throat yesterday in the shower. “W-what do you mean?”
“I mean Roman is dangerous, and I’d stay the fuck away from him, if I were you,” he says flatly, not bothering to soften his words with a smile or a laugh or anything.
I half-laugh, half-scoff at that, just to break the sudden tension. “Like I have a choice. I’ve been trying to get away from him since the day I set eyes on him. But it’s not that simple.”
“You know, you’re the only girl I know of who has ever told him ‘no.’”
I shrug one shoulder. “Sure, I’ve told him ‘no.’ But when he doesn’t listen, does it really matter what I say or how many times I say it?”
And like the rest of the female population, eventually, I did give into him. I may not have fallen at his feet, but I still fell. And I hate myself for that. I’m going to need several therapy sessions on that one subject alone.
I push out a breath. “So where is this brother now? I haven’t seen him around.”
“After the incident, he was kicked out of ExU, and his parents paid for him to move…fuck, I don’t even know where. There’s a rumor that he’s in jail now.”
Oh, damn. “For what? Assault?”
“Yeah, some shit. Who knows.”
Okay, well, maybe that explains why the guys don’t want the police poking around in their business.
I push out a breath, and glance around the small patio. Everyone is looking at us, of course. And not just looking, but staring. Normally, all these eyes on me would make me self-conscious, but I must be getting used to it. Either that or I’m just too tired to care.
“So, did you just bring me here to tell me to get away from Roman?” I say it a little flirty, because, fuck, why not? Ash is hot, and if Roman’s reaction to me yesterday is any indication, then he won’t be bothering me for much longer.
“And to see how you’re doing. I saw the flyers around campus.”
“Yeah. Still haven’t heard anything. I’m hoping she’s just…” I push out a breath and fight back the tears. I hate crying in front of people. It never fails to make things awkward, because the other person never knows what to say. “I don’t know…I just hope she’s okay.”
Ash nods, but he doesn’t try to reassure me, like everyone else. He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t know why, but that comforts me. I guess it’s because he’s not just dismissing my fears, like the rest of the world has done since this whole fucking nightmare started.
“Have you talked to her parents?” he asks carefully.
“Yup. And I’ve talked to Student Affairs. I’ve talked to campus security. I’ve even gone to the police…”
“Oh, shit,” Ash says, sitting up again. “If I were you, I’d keep that bit about the police to yourself. The Sacred Sons aren’t big fans of the police.”
No fucking kidding.
“Yeah, I figured that out the hard way. I inadvertently mentioned it yesterday, and the guys flipped out.”
Ash pushes out a breath, like damn. “Well, look at the bright side, maybe now they won’t want to fuck with you.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe some other girl will catch Roman’s attention, and he’ll leave me alone.”
Ash glances around at the people staring at us. “Uh, yeah, I know Roman pretty well, and all I can say is that he doesn’t give up easily.”
I laugh. “One can hope, though.”
And after the disgust I saw on his face yesterday, him leaving me alone now is more likely than not.
Out of my peripheral vision, I can see someone walking toward us. I turn my head to see Jackson. He’s about a hundred feet away, but he clearly sees Ash and me sitting together, and he looks less than pleased about it. Either someone told him, or he just happened to see us while he was walking across campus, which wouldn’t have been hard. We’re sitting in a spot where anyone passing by can see us. We’re not trying to hide.
I’m not looking at Ash, but he must see Jackson, too. “Hey,” Ash says to me. “You wanna get out of here?”
I turn back to face him, flashing a smile. “Fuck, yes.”