Chapter 15
YELENA
I’ve never been much of a drinker, even now that I'm at college.
That said, when Friday rolls around and Damiano reminds me it’s The Order’s night at The Garrison… Count me the hell in.
It’s been a week.
Does that have to do with my classes and course-load?
For sure.
The fact that Mom sent me a bunch of photos the other day of her, Dad, and Mas having taco and movie night, and I’ve been insanely homesick ever since?
You know it.
The fact that there’s definitely something up with Galina, even though she won’t admit it, and I’m also still kinda worried about Wren’s mental state?
Without question.
Or, am I building all these things up bigger in my head so I don’t have to think about the real reason this week has me gnawing at the edges of my sanity, i.e., that three days ago, Achilles cornered me in the lower stacks, ordered me to spread my legs, and then went down on me until I saw God?
Ding-ding-ding.
It’s not that I think what happened the other day was in any way assault. I have enough self-awareness to know I wanted, I stayed, and I participated.
I’m just trying to figure out what it says that I want this kind of thing at all.
That's the source of what you might call the shame inside me.
Not Achilles. The desire itself.
My first thought is to externalize it. To tell myself I learned to “want” this sort of thing because of BookTok, and Galina, and being sucked into Velvet Villainess’ over-the-top spicy recommendations.
It’s a very convenient excuse, because it puts the darkness outside me and makes it a media-based fantasy, not something native to me.
But that’s the coward's way out, and I know it. MaskTok videos didn’t create this want. They just gave it a name and a muscular, knife-wielding shape.
And once I scrape past that first layer, things start to get…complicated.
The fact that I haven’t told a soul what happened this past summer doesn’t mean I don’t realize what happened.
I was assaulted. End of story. Kyle Santoro invited me out for sushi, telling me he thought it would be good for us to step up as number two’s for our fathers on this joint real estate venture.
My dad has never pushed either Massimo or I to “take the reins” one day. I honestly don’t know if either of us wants to.
So this was potentially an opportunity to learn what it would feel like to wield a bit of power, and to help guide the De Luca empire.
Instead, it was a nightmare.
Kyle fed me sake all night. And yeah, I’m not much of a drinker, but I know the wooziness I felt when we left that restaurant was due to more than just alcohol.
He brought me back to his apartment, saying he wanted to show me some of the contract work he was doing for the deal.
The second the door closed behind us he was all over me.
I tried to yell, but he slammed a hand over my mouth and told me to “just relax and have fun”.
He put his fingers inside me.
He shoved me to my knees and mashed his half-erect dick against my mouth, telling me to suck it.
Somehow, through the haze of whatever was in my system, I remembered reading about a woman who’d avoided a potential rape by shitting herself.
So I peed on Kyle’s shoes and the floor of his front entryway.
That seemed to break the spell. He told me I was gross, a disgusting slut, a nasty whore, the whole bit, and told me he’d make sure I regretted it if I told anyone. Then he kicked me out.
That. All. Happened.
I was sexually assaulted and told no one because I’m a coward who’s afraid of looking like a coward.
And the part of this current situation that has me the most confused is that now I’m drawn to a man who hunts me.
Who takes without asking.
Who leans into the exact dynamic that was used against me without my consent.
And the biggest question of them all: did what happened to me this summer create this, or reveal what was already there?
Because if Kyle’s assault made this darkness in me…if I’m drawn to Achilles because of trauma, because something is now broken in me…
I’m not sure how to live with that.
It would mean I’m damaged in a very specific way, and it would mean Kyle took something from me that I can’t get back.
I’ve been reading these spicy books of Galina’s since last year—before the assault. But the heated desire to act on those literary fantasies is new, and I can’t tell what's bringing them out.
So…yeah.
This is why I’m drinking tonight.
The bonfire in the middle of the open-air “bar” in the ruins of Fort Hawthorne roars toward the night sky as Damiano and his brother Vincenzo toss another wooden shipping pallet on top of it.
Cenzo, who’s my age, is another “cousin but not really” that I’ve known essentially my whole life.
He’s in Ouroboros with Galina and Ari, but he’s here tonight along with both my girls even though it’s The Order’s night at The Garrison.
Damiano doesn’t care about keeping our nights here "club only".
The Reckless are the only ones who get super territorial and aggro about that.
All the eye-roll emojis.
Galina, Arianna, and Cenzo aren’t the only non-Order students here.
Galina’s older brother Zane, who has always been a bit of an aloof mystery to me, is off on the far side of the bonfire talking with some other guys in The Order.
Aloof, yes, but still friendly enough that when he catches me glancing his way he smiles and nods his chin, the firelight glinting off his glasses as he raises his beer.
My cousin Aurora is here repping Ouroboros.
She and Theo, who's in The Order, are off to the side cracking jokes in Japanese with Akira Mori of Para Bellum. The one that really makes me curious is Selene Drakos—Achilles’ cousin who’s “inner circle” with Para Bellum. More specifically, who she’s here with.
“That looks juicy,” Galina laughs, elbowing me and following my gaze to where Selene is talking closely with Jude. “I thought she was with Kirill?”
Lucia giggles. “I think that was just a rumor.”
Next to her, Arianna frowns. “Hmm… I think that was more than a rumor. Remember that Para Bellum party a couple weeks back where Kirill was flashing his junk around?”
I obviously missed this part of the evening, since I was too busy being chased around a dark bedroom by a masked psychopath with a knife at the time, but I’ve heard the campus gossip about how scandalous it was that the classy, popular Selene was spotted skinny dipping, or at least underwear-dipping, with a very naked Kirill.
“Hey bitches, I’m back! And I come bearing gifts.”
Wren sidles up to us with five shot glasses full of something neon pink.
Arianna, who’s also not much of a drinker, eyes the shots doubtfully. “I thought you went to pee?”
The Garrison might be basically a homemade bar set up in the stone ruins of a Revolutionary War fort, but this is Knightsblood. Which means everyone who goes here tends to come from considerable money.
At some point in the last few decades, some especially big fan of The Garrison and its mission to let college kids drink and have fun paid to have fully functional restrooms installed, connected to the main campus plumbing.
I mean, who wants to pop squats in the woods all night?
“I did, and then I saw that someone had been nice enough to make vodka and pink lemonade shots, so I brought enough for the whole class,” Wren grins.
She and I really do need to have a conversation about her drinking. I mean, again, I get it. Walking in on Bryce like that really messed her up. But she needs to cool it, especially since addiction isn’t exactly an unknown guest in her family.
But that’s not a conversation for right now. So we do the shots, laughing and sputtering and then laughing some more.
My phone buzzes with a text. I’m still giggling at something Lucia said as I pull it out and glance at the screen.
Unknown
Be careful tonight, little prey. The woods are dark and full of terrors.
Instantly, the giggle in my throat dies. The smile drops from my face, and a slithering, warm sensation coils around my middle.
There’s only one person this could be.
I’m still trying to pull my heart back down out of my throat and figure out how to reply when another text comes through.
Unknown
But since we both know dark woods full of terrors are probably just foreplay for that deliciously fucked-up mind of yours, why don’t you step into the shadows and see what comes out to play.
My heart starts racing, my fingers twitching as they hover above the screen I’m gaping at.
Me
You’re wrong.
Unknown
About?
My throat works. Galina calls my name, yanking my attention from the phone for a second. When I glance back down, there’s another message from him.
Unknown
Are you saying I’m INcorrect about your fucked-up proclivities?
I bite down on my bottom lip as I type a reply.
Me
I already told you, I’m not who and what you think I am.
Unknown
Again, your pussy keeps having a dissenting opinion on the matter.
Heat creeps over my face.
Me
The presence of arousal does not imply consent.
It didn't happen with Kyle. But I’ve read countless things since regarding the shame that can come from rape and assault. And part of it is that plenty of victims do become physically aroused during an attack.
It’s not just a BookTok “curse my traitorous body” trope. It really happens, both to men and women. People even come while they're being assaulted. I can't even fathom the level to which that must compound the self-loathing.
Unknown
Agreed. It's also completely irrelevant to what happened between us. Don’t for a second try to paint me with that brush. I know what I am, and I’m more than fine with it.
My tongue slips out to wet my lips.
Me
I never consented to what happened the other day.
Unknown
You also never said no.
Me
Are you suggesting the absence of no equates to the presence of yes?
Unknown
Do you seriously always text like this?
I frown.
Me
Like what?
Unknown
Like an elderly law professor.
My lips pull into a grin before I can stop them.
Me