9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
I tore through every corner of my room.
Ripped all the blankets and sheets off my bed, the pillowcase off the pillow. Lifted the mattress. Opened every drawer, removed the meager contents. Checked the pockets of every single garment in the closet and inside the shoe and wig boxes. Crawled around on the floor, looking under each piece of furniture.
Once the guys went to bed, I checked the rest of the apartment, knowing good and well if I’d left it in any of the common areas, it now belonged to Connor, Malcolm, or Kade, and odds of them giving it back were nil.
They might hold it above my head, out of my reach, making fun of what an old-ass phone it was and saying something super original like, “When I say jump, you say how high, bitch,” making me leap in the air like a dog act on America’s Got Talent .
But they would never give it back.
Fuck.
The more I looked, the harder it was to ignore the gnawing panic in my chest. How could I have lost my phone?
After a sleepless night, I retraced my steps through campus, desperate to spot it in any of the familiar places I’d spent time lately. The worn stone steps outside the chapel, where I’d watched the wintery rain spill over the garden; the courtyard bench, tucked beneath the shadow of the statue, where I sometimes took my lunch; even the café where Lena had bought me coffee and cinnamon rolls.
But it was nowhere. Like it had simply vanished.
Was it possible Lena had taken it? I had no idea where to find her or even her last name, and as far as I knew, she had no way to find me either. If she had taken it, it hadn’t been by accident, so…
I took a deep breath.
I had three options. I could throw myself on the guys’ mercy, offering anything they wanted in return if they had it and gave it back. But any of them knowing I’d lost my phone might lead to Xander finding out.
What if Connor wasn’t the only one of them reporting back to him? As long as Xander didn’t know I didn’t have my phone, I could still use the recording to get what I wanted—to live absolutely anywhere but that apartment. But once he found out the phone was gone, I had no power. None.
Which crossed out my second option, too, which was checking the lost and found. I’d asked around and found out it was located in a drawer in Ms. Tissdale’s desk. So I might as well just walk up and tell Xander the truth. Asking her would definitely go right to him.
And the third option… The only place I hadn’t checked. The library.
I might have dropped my phone when I crashed into Lena.
I wasn’t eager for the professor to see me again, but I had to try. I waited until later in the afternoon, instead of going at the typical time of their rendezvous, hoping I would find my phone in the stairwell and wouldn’t even have to check on the third floor.
No such luck, though.
I took a deep breath and pushed through the third-floor door. The familiar creak of the floorboards made my breath quicken.
That small, isolated corner of the library had somehow become a refuge, as twisted as it was. Each day, watching their almost ritualistic sex unfold in the shadows of the abandoned stacks, I felt both haunted and free. I’d lose myself in their bodies, their movements, the way they moved like pieces of a single, dark puzzle fitting together just right.
And despite my timing, today was no different.
The professor was already there when I reached my usual hiding spot, standing still as a statue, his back to me. The twins circled him, their movements like clockwork as they stripped, their clothes slipping away as if by invisible hands. Shirts lifted over heads, and skirts unzipped and slid to the floor in quiet whispers of fabric. They moved together with a matched rhythm that was almost hypnotic, as though they were two halves of the same whole.
The hazy purple glow around them seemed to pulse with their desire, filling the space around them with a thrumming energy that I could feel all the way to the marrow in my bones.
I stood rooted to the spot, caught up in that same dark spell, my heart thudding, my skin damp with sweat, all the blood in my body rushing to my clit as their quiet sighs filled the air. It felt like I was part of it, part of them .
The familiar heat stirred low in my belly, simmering, rising, until it broke over me in waves, that same hands-free, spine-tingling release that had become my guilty pleasure. I bit down on my lip hard to keep myself silent, to keep myself hidden, even as the aftershocks pulsed through me, leaving me trembling.
I stayed there, catching my breath, and waited as they dressed. They moved with the same calm, practiced ease as they straightened their skirts and buttoned their shirts, their expressions soft and unreadable. Then they left together, the echo of their footsteps growing fainter and fainter.
The professor waited ten minutes or so, I guess giving them a head start, before he left, too.
After he left, I waited as well, until the quiet settled around me and I was certain I was alone before I finally moved, stepping out from behind the shelf and into the aisle.
Just as I turned to go, an arm snaked around my waist, yanking me backward.
My heart leapt into my throat. A hand clamped over my mouth before I could even think to scream. Fingers pressed down, hard, hard enough I thought maybe they would knock a few of my teeth loose or dislocate my jaw. I could barely breathe, let alone make a sound.
The other arm cinched around my waist lifted me off my feet, pinning me against a hard, muscular chest. I twisted and struggled against the impossibly strong grip that had me locked in place.
“Don’t. Say. A. Word.”
I seethed at the sound. This was planned. Whoever had me was using one of those voice changers. Hands-free, obviously.
Just like Ghostface from the Scream movies. Most likely Kade. But maybe Malcolm or Connor.
It had to be one of them, but that didn’t stop the terror that had settled in my stomach from spreading throughout my body.
I tried to turn my head, but he shoved me forward, my chest and cheek pressing against the cold, hard wall.
Bite his palm! my subconscious shouted.
But I couldn’t even open my lips, my teeth useless inside my closed, helpless mouth.
The heat of his breath brushed against my neck, close and intimate, his lips hovering near my ear.
“Do as I say,” he said. “And maybe I’ll let you walk out of here.”
His hand trailed down from my mouth, brushing along my collarbone, sending a wave of nausea rolling through me. Maybe if I vomited, it would throw him off enough to loosen his grip, and then I could break free. Or maybe I would choke on my own puke while he sexually assaulted me.
Keeping me sandwiched between his body and the wall, he yanked my arm behind me and forced my hand downward, guiding it down his pants, pressing my palm against his erection. He was so hard that bile rose into my throat.
Using my elbows wasn’t an option. My range of motion was severely limited, but I could dig my nails into his penis. I could kick backward, maybe get him in the instep.
I could also get killed.
I wanted to pull away, to scream, but even if he didn’t have my voice trapped in my mouth, fear constricted my throat. He worked his hips, rubbing himself up and down on my hand and sighing with satisfaction. It sickened me at how much pleasure he was obviously getting from this.
Tears burned up my throat, so hot that they tasted ashy and bitter. I swallowed those bitches back down, reminding myself of the mantra that had gotten me through so much tough shit:
I could cry later. First, I’d fight.
And also pay attention…
I inhaled through my nose, trying to pick up a familiar scent, but whichever one of them this was had been smart. Connor had that smokey, cedary rain thing going on, while Kade smelled warm and spicy. Malcolm smelled like soap and dark leather. This guy smelled like Dollar Store men’s body spray.
“Stroke me,” he ordered through his voice-changer. “Now.”
I whimpered. Every instinct in me recoiled, but I wrapped my trembling fingers around him, feeling his shaft pulse as he guided my movements. His breathing grew heavier, his body pressing harder against mine, trapping me there as I moved my hand in a jerky rhythm. His low, guttural sounds filled the quiet of the library.
The length of him, the girth, the bulbous head… This wasn’t Malcolm. The memory of his cock, the shape and heft and size of it between my tits, had burned into my brain. This one was thicker but not as long.
Kade, then? I’d only seen him naked in the shower briefly, and I’d been more concerned with getting the fuck out of there than sneaking a peek at his junk.
What about his frame? I could only estimate his height, but the arms… All three of the guys were muscular and strong, well-built, but this guy was too broad, too jacked to be Connor.
If only he would say more, even with that creepy-as-fuck manufactured voice, then maybe I could recognize a speech pattern.
What if it wasn’t any of them?
But it had to be. Because if it wasn’t…
Fuck. My stomach lurched. If Connor or Malcolm or Kade wanted me dead, wanted to truly do harm to me, they’d had plenty of opportunities. I slept in a room with no door.
But if this were a total stranger…
No. No . It was one of them.
Even they wouldn’t be ballsy enough to attack me in the apartment, where they would be the only suspects.
“Don’t stop,” he warned.
He withdrew his hand from mine and used it to pull my hair off my neck, to yank my shirt off my shoulder and expose it. The fabric tore.
I gasped. Tears leaked down my chin.
What if this ended in one way? The wrong way.
No. Please no. I’d wanted so badly to get fucked, but not like this.
Not like this.
I shuddered as he kissed from behind my ear, down my neck, finally settling in the curve of my shoulder. His tongue flicked out, and I whimpered as he began to suck the skin there in earnest.
Time stretched, warped, my mind fracturing under the weight of his control, my body locked in place. He convulsed against me, his release hot and unrelenting, dripping over my fingers. He held me there, his hand still over my mouth, as though daring me to resist, daring me to make a sound.
When he finally let go, his hand stayed on my shoulder, holding me in place as he leaned close, his breath brushing against my cheek, his disguised voice unrecognizable but the threat in it unmistakable.
“Leave Whispering Ivy. And never come back. Or next time I catch you alone, I won’t just take a hand job.” The genuine, sinister smile in his fake, scary voice splintered dread down my spine. “Next time, I’ll take your life.”
With one last shove, my forehead cracking against the wall, he released me. I stumbled, desperate not to lose my footing as my vision swam. My breaths came too shallow and quick. Clumsily, I spun around to see his face, but the aisle stood empty, silent, as if he’d vanished into thin air.
I caught a flash of movement to my left and turned, just in time to see a hidden trapdoor in the wall swing shut, sealing him away before I could even process what had just happened.
The library held still, its shadows thick and watchful, the quiet pressing down on me like a suffocating weight.
My cum-drenched hand shook, my whole body jerking, and my knees buckled. I sank to the floor and leaned against the wall, every inch of me still throbbing with raw terror.
When I finally found the will to stand and staggered my way out of the library, my legs barely held me upright as I descended the stairs, clutching the cold railing for support. Shame clung to my skin like a second layer. Every step echoed in the stairwell, louder than the last.
I could still feel the ghost of his breath against my neck, his hand clamped over my mouth, my fingers wrapped around him.
My thoughts raced as I hurried back to the apartment. It had to be one of them—Connor, Malcolm, or Kade. There was no one else it could be. Who else would do this?
When I reached the apartment, I shoved open the door and found all three of them in the living room. They sat sprawled out, taking up as much space as possible while watching TV like they didn’t have a single care in the world.
Kade, still with his mask on, turned to face me. “You look like you just saw a ghost. You okay?”
I slammed the door behind me and got no satisfaction whatsoever from the fact that all three of them flinched.
I crossed my arms, forcing my voice to stay steady throughout my full-body trembles. “Which one of you was it?”
Malcolm exchanged a look with Kade, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Which one of us did you dream about fucking last night? I would guess me, but—”
“I am not fucking playing with you, Malcolm!” I shouted.
“But you wish you were,” he sing-songed, and I wanted to kick in his teeth.
I clenched my fists, taking a deep breath to keep from losing control. “One of you grabbed me in the library. Pinned me to the wall and…forced me to…” I swallowed, the words lodged in my throat. “One of you threatened me. Assaulted me.”
“Someone assaulted you?” A hint of actual concern laced Kade’s voice, but coming from the guy who’d trapped me naked in the shower with him before we’d even been introduced, it didn’t mean a hell of a lot.
Rage boiled within me. “One of you assaulted me!”
Malcolm rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “Sure. You’ve got quite the imagination, drama queen.”
“I’m not imagining this!” I snapped. “I don’t know which one of you it was, but I swear—”
“What did they do, pull your pigtails?” Malcolm taunted in his odd accent.
I would’ve lunged at him, gouged out his eyeballs with my cummy fingers, had Connor’s voice not cut through, low and deadly serious.
“Enough.” He stood, his expression unreadable as he looked from Malcolm to Kade, his jaw clenched. “This isn’t a joke.”
Malcolm’s smirk faded, and Kade shifted uncomfortably under Connor’s gaze.
Connor took a step forward and jabbed a finger at Malcolm, then Kade. “It better not have been one of you. Because if it was, you’re in deep shit.”
The tension in the room adhered to my skin like humid summer air. Malcolm and Kade exchanged wary looks.
Connor’s eyes flicked back to me, his expression shifting, something almost fierce in his gaze.
“Starting tomorrow,” he said, his voice tight, “I’m going to be wherever you go. Classes, the dining hall, everywhere. You’re not going anywhere alone.”
My chest tightened as suspicion crawled between my shoulder blades. Was this sudden shift an attempt to cover his own tracks?
I studied his face, searching for any sign of deception, but his expression looked as hard and cold as ever. I bit my lip, taking in every detail of his body.
It wasn’t him in the library.
“You think I need a babysitter now?” I challenged, crossing my arms, my jaw set. “I can take care of myself.”
Connor’s gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe you can, maybe you can’t. Either way, I’m not giving you a choice.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the intensity in his expression stopped me.
Besides, as much as I didn’t want to spend a second with Connor, I didn’t want to be alone either.
Malcolm let out an exaggerated sigh, clearly over the entire ordeal, while Kade mumbled something under his breath.
“Do either of you have something you want to add?” Connor demanded.
The danger in his voice made me shiver.
“No,” Malcolm said.
Kade shook his head.
Without waiting for any of them to say anything else, I beelined for the bathroom, but I still heard what Connor said to them next.
“You fuck with her, you fuck with me. You know the rules.”
What. The. Fuck?
I turned on the water in the sink and waited for it to get scalding hot before dispensing half the bottle of soap into my palms and shoving them under the stream. I yelped but began scrubbing anyway. My whole body would not stop quaking.
Footsteps.
Out of the corner of my eye, Connor appeared and leaned in the doorway.
“What exactly happened in the library?” he asked.
“Don’t wanna talk about it,” I said without looking up from the sink.
“Don’t give a fuck.” Then softer, quieter—gentler?—he asked, “Do you need me to take you to the clinic?”
I shook my head. “He didn’t rape me. Just forced me to give him a hand job.”
Connor exhaled. His fist connected with the doorframe in an explosion of sound, and I about jumped out of my skin.
“Fuck. I won’t let…” Another hard exhale. “I’ll keep you safe.”
I spun to face him. “I don’t want to be ableist, but are you fucking bipolar? You’ve kept me miserable. All three of you…”
“I’ll keep you safe,” he said again.
Part of me wondered if I should give my wannabe guardian angel a head’s up that whoever had assaulted me had also threatened to kill me if I stayed, but Mom’s words came back to me.
Don’t trust anyone.
I went back to scrubbing my hands. The incident in the library had changed everything. Even if I found my phone, even if Xander let me, I couldn’t risk moving out of this apartment now. Yeah, I could take care of myself, but why ever the fuck Mom sent me here, she hadn’t sent me here to wind up dead like her. I owed it to her to accept Connor’s protection.
Like it or not, I needed him.
“Fine.” I dried my hands and turned on my heel, my blood still burning hot inside me.
I’d let him be my shield, my shadow following me everywhere.
At this point, I had no proof, just a suspicion about a Scream movie mega-fan. It had to have been Kade in the library, and he wouldn’t dare strike again with Connor around.
If he thought he could scare me into leaving Whispering Ivy, he had no idea who he was dealing with.