Chapter 21
YELENA
Why the fuck did I do that?
I’m…not.
I’m thinking entirely about dark woods, crashing waves, jagged cliffs, and giving myself to a man who shares the same vicious black desires that I do.
My mind races with memories of delirious insanity, violent pleasure, a knife against my throat and a hard, huge cock thrusting into me as I shattered.
But none of that is why the voice inside me is clucking its tongue and shaking its head in disapproval, tut-tutting that I “shouldn’t have done that”.
I don’t mean losing my virginity in the most unhinged way possible to Achilles.
Yes, that was…insane. And deranged. And violent, and scary, and completely fucked up. But it was also everything I wanted. It was more than I wanted, or had ever even fantasized about, and I don’t regret doing it.
It’s what I did after the sex, when I thanked him.
How much of a lame, clueless virgin do you have to be to do that?
Cringe.
And I know I’m clearly not the only one who thinks that because The Garrison was totally empty when I came back from peeing.
No Achilles, just a pile of his comically oversized clothes for me to wear.
I’m a big girl. And again, I understand and do believe that sex and love are two different things.
But having him stay or even just be polite enough to say goodnight, or maybe walk me back to Morvaine, or at the very least out of the fucking woods, would have been…nice. I don’t think that constitutes romance or love. It just seems like basic courtesy.
Regardless, now I’m stuck analyzing everything I did or said or didn’t do or say. And this is why I’m sitting here in class fixating on the fact that I fucking thanked him.
He probably got major clinger vibes and figured he should bounce before I asked him to marry me or told him I was naming my first child after him.
Which, despite the lack of condom, isn’t going to happen, since I’ve been on birth control to regulate my periods since I was fifteen.
It’s been five days since the night on the cliff.
Two or three, I could see him wanting to keep a little distance, especially if he thinks I was being clingy back in the woods.
Four is pushing it.
Five just seems purposefully shitty.
Maybe he just doesn’t want you anymore.
Maybe as mind-blowing as I think it was, Achilles was bored.
I have nothing to compare it to, so of course I'm going to think it was incredible, world-changing, mind-altering sex.
But Achilles, given his looks, age, popularity, wealth, power, and, well, literally everything else, probably has plenty to compare it to.
To compare me to.
That vicious green ball of fury inside me snarls and rakes its nails down the inside of my chest. But I muscle it back down and grit my teeth.
Sex isn’t love.
Love isn’t sex.
Two separate boxes.
It’s not a fun thought to dwell on, but it’s one that I keep returning to. What if we both had expectations of what the night would be, and while it exceeded all of mine, it fell incredibly short of his?
What if I, frankly, sucked? And not in the good way?
I groan inwardly as Professor Llewelyn drones on.
Maybe Achilles faded away into the night because while it was amazing for me, it was not for him.
I can resign myself to that, I guess, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting.
I mean…a first time is a first time, even if we remove love or romance from the equation. It’d be nice to have something other than a wall of silence.
When class is done, my head is still in the storm clouds as I stalk back across campus. I try not to dwell on the radio silence since Achilles fucked me to within an inch of my life on the edge of a cliff and then told me all of me was “his” because he “said so” and he “claimed me”.
Fine. We can ascribe to him a red-flag level of possessiveness. But if that’s the case, fuck off with the silent treatment, you know?
Like, pick a lane.
“Um, hi?”
I blink, realize I’m glaring a fucking hole through Arianna’s face.
“Sorry…what?” I mutter.
She smiles and rolls her shoulders under the slightly oversized men’s Knightsblood jacket she’s wearing.
Uniforms for students are mandatory on campus during normal class hours, but the administration doesn't care which gender-oriented uniform each student wears. Colin Bryant, for instance, frequently rocks a blue and gray plaid skirt paired with a men’s jacket and shirt, and he fucking slays in it.
Also, if I had his legs, there’s no way I’d be covering them up with pants, like, ever.
Arianna doesn’t always wear the male uniform, but when she does, I don’t think it’s for any sort of gender or sexual identity expression. I'm pretty sure she’s straight, even though Galina often teases her about “not getting horny for boys.”
I’m guessing she sometimes goes with the jacket and pants for the same reason she wears baggy, non-form-fitting clothes when we go out.
She simply doesn’t want or give a shit about male attention.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I sigh heavily and slump down at a table. We’ve met in one of the several rose gardens that dot the campus to cram for our Human Psych quiz tomorrow.
“About what?” I mutter.
She rolls her eyes. “About whatever it is that just had you glaring death at me.”
I wince. “Sorry.”
Ari shakes her head. “All good. It was more like glaring death through me, so I’m not taking it personally. But still…” She shrugs. “You okay?”
I furrow my brow and shake my head.
“No. Yes. I don’t know. It’s fine.”
“Sure it is,” she says sarcastically, putting a hand on top of mine. “C’mon, spill.”
I smile wryly. “Thanks, but… I don’t know. It’s stupid.”
She shoots me a look. “Lena…”
I sigh heavily. “It’s…” I suck on my teeth, then raise my eyes to hers. “Okay, can I ask you something?”
“Obviously.”
“It’s…personal?”
“I'm straight.”
My brows furrow. “What?”
She shrugs. “You were going to ask me, so I decided to save you the trouble. I’m straight. So if there’s a real question, go ahead and ask it.”
I stare at her. “What is happening right now?”
Ari giggles. “One of us is taking Human Psychology 204 because she needs a science credit for her Global Economics major…” She winks and points a finger at me. “And the other one,” she says, her finger swiveling to point at herself, “is taking it because she’s actually a Psych major.”
I grin.
“Ergo,” she drawls in this hilariously regal English accent that makes us both immediately crack up, “I could deduce that this was about a boy from you looking all forlorn and mopey and lost in thought, and hesitantly asking me if you could ask me a personal question. Because even while you were thinking about asking me, another part of you was wondering if I’d even want to talk about boys because of the unasked question I just answered for you. ”
I blink, dumbfounded. “What are you, fucking psychic? How could you possibly get all that?”
She laughs. “Well, I cheated a little. The mopey, dreamy looks are one thing.” She points at my neck.
“But you’ve also suddenly developed a huge interest in scarves, high collars, and have been wearing a lot of concealer on your neck this past week—none of which, by the way, is doing shit to cover what are obviously bite and suck marks. ”
My face blooms with heat.
“Also, you’re the only one in our little group who hasn’t ever asked me directly about my sexuality. I figured you were finally going to pull the trigger.”
I frown. “You really don’t mind me asking?”
Ari shrugs. “No?”
“So… You’re straight.”
She shrugs. “I guess? I mean, I’m attracted to men, I suppose.” She suddenly grins widely as she nods past me. “I mean, hello, sploosh.”
I turn, then instantly giggle and blush.
A few hundred feet away, Father Hale is swinging some sort of shovel in the church garden.
His henley shirt is unbuttoned, showing off an insanely muscled chest dusted with dark hair, and the sleeves are pushed halfway up his veined, thick forearms. His dark hair hangs in his stern, chiseled face, and his shoulders flex as he brings the shovel up over his head again.
I turn back to Arianna, shaking my head.
“That seriously has to be blasphemy.”
She laughs.
“Ever wonder if you’re bi?”
She shrugs and then suddenly reaches over the table. Her finger slides down the two buttons of my blouse I’ve left open since it’s a little warm out, and then deftly pops open a third, which takes the look from “it’s nice outside” to “hey check out the girls”.
I blush as Ari stares at my mediocre cleavage for a moment. Then she shakes her head.
“Nope, sorry,” she shrugs. “Nothing.”
I giggle and swat her hand away before buttoning back up. “Well, I don’t think this cleavage is making anyone switch teams.”
Arianna sighs. “Yeah, so, straight it is.” She shrugs. “I know the clothing choices can be confusing. I dunno. I’m just not into revealing stuff or like, dressing for the male gaze?”
I shake my head. “Hey, you do you. I wish I could turn that part of me off inside and just not give a shit about it sometimes.”
She smiles wryly. “I’ve sometimes wondered if I’m asexual, but…” Arianna nods her chin past me at Father Hale again. “I mean, God damn. No pun intended.”
“Amen, sister.”
She refocuses on me. “So, now that you’ve stalled enough… Who’s the guy?”
I suck on my teeth and twist my lips.
“Ooooo!” she giggles. “She won’t say! How scandalous!” Her brows lift. “Whoa, if it’s Father Hale, you have to—”
“Arianna!” I blurt. “No! I just… Can we skip the who part of this questionnaire for now? And any questions about why I want to skip it?”
“Lena, we can skip any of this. I’m just here to listen, if you want.”
I nod. “Okay… So, let’s say there is a guy.” My brows knit. “Wait, can you do me a favor and not mention this to the others?”
She smirks. “You don’t trust the totally undramatic, gossip-averse Galina Nikitin not to badger you twenty-four seven if she knew you were seeing someone?”
I snort. “Something like that.”
Arianna drags an imaginary zipper across her lips. “Sealed. Cone of silence.”