Fear looks good on you
Iwait, hidden in the shadows, until Amelia gathers herself and leaves.
I wait another ten minutes to be sure no one sees me.
I grab my things and hightail it the fuck back to my room, checking over my shoulder the whole way, feeling like someone is watching me.
A buzz from my pocket has me nearly jumping out of my skin.
I grab my phone and see it’s another fucking text.
Unknown:
Not who you thought he was, is he? Scared yet? You should run while you still have air in your lungs.
I don’t know if it’s the creepy texts or the fact that I just watched the guy I was starting to like—definitely wanted to fuck and dry-humped just yesterday—choke out a girl and threaten her, but I pick up my pace as I type out a text.
Me:
Anonymous threats, really? Are you that bored? I have tons of suggestions that could better fill your time…maybe try therapy.
I stick to the lit paths and take the fastest route, passing a few people as I go, which relaxes me slightly. I debate calling an SOS to Roxy, then quickly decide against it. I need to process what I saw before dragging someone into this.
Fuck me.
I scan my card at the front steps and hurry to my room, practically slamming the door behind me and turning the lock.
The second I’m inside, my back hits the wall as I slide to the floor and force myself to breathe until my pulse evens out.
Then comes the pacing. Once. Twice. On the third lap, I drop onto my bed.
There’s nothing I can do in this situation.
It’s not like I’m going to confront Oliver; his threat was real.
I could see it in his eyes, feel it in every cell of my body.
He would do what he said and more. If someone could do something like that, what else are they capable of?
I think about reporting it for all of a second before I shake that idea away.
My trust in law enforcement is low, especially on campus.
It’s not like there are cameras in that part of the library for confirmation.
After an hour of going back and forth on how to handle this, I choose to do nothing. What is there even to do? One thing is for sure, though: I need to stay far away from Oliver Caldwell. I don’t need danger in my life. And I don’t need anyone mixed up with Jade in it either.
I grab my bathroom tote and head to the very last stall, opening the fogged-glass door before turning the water to scalding. I tip my head back, letting the water hit my face and run over my skin.
Steam swirls thick around me as I stare blankly at the ground. The shower roars loud enough to drown every thought. A hinge groans. I still, soap half rinsed from my hair. I turn back to the wall and quickly finish rinsing off. I’m jumpy after what I just saw.
Another squeak.
I go to spin, but it’s too late. A hand clamps over my mouth, another snaking across my body, pinning me back against heat and muscle.
Warm breath brushes against my ear, causing goose bumps to pebble on my wet skin. “Hello, Lyra.” I go rigid.
He chuckles, a sound that vibrates through my spine down to the tips of my toes.
A sound I haven’t heard from him yet. “You shouldn’t wander the library at night.
You see too much. Hear too much.” His teeth graze my neck before I can twist away.
“Curiosity is dangerous. But fear—” his grip tightens when I buck against him, “—fear makes you exquisite.”
His nose drags along the curve of my throat, slow, savoring, until his lips brush the top of my shoulder.
For one suspended second, I think he’ll kiss me.
Then his teeth sink in. I gasp against his hand, a muffled, broken sound as sharp pain blooms. The water does nothing to wash it away; it only carries the thin line of blood down my skin in pale-pink rivulets.
He lingers there, mouth locked against me, sucking once before pulling back.
What is he, a goddamn vampire?
“I’ve wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you,” he whispers. “To mark you. To taste you.” I can’t respond, but my mind is racing.
“I would let my hand go, but you have to promise me not to scream. Will you do that for me, Dollface?” Is he fucking crazy? When I don’t answer right away, his hand covering my mouth squeezes tighter, fingers digging into my cheeks.
I weigh my options. Scream—hopefully someone hears, but the chances are slim and risk whatever sick, fucked-up thing he will do in retribution, or not scream and wait to see what sick, fucked-up thing he will do or say next.
I’m fucked either way, so I guess I’ll pick the one least likely to have him kill me.
I nod my head as much as I can in his tight grip. He releases my mouth.
“What do you want?” My voice is barely audible over the pounding of water that seems to have gotten louder.
“Well, isn’t that a good question?” His head dips down once again next to the bite, and I tense, making him chuckle. I stand stock still, feeling the warm press of him against me.
He brushes my hair off my back to gather it over one shoulder. The touch is soft compared to his words. A shiver follows the path of his hand down my spine and over my ribs before fingers close around my throat.
Pressure builds, cutting off air, until my pulse hammers against his palm. “Look at you,” he breathes. His grip tightens as black dots spark in my vision. “Your fear…it’s art.” I claw weakly at his wrist, lungs screaming for air, as his lips brush the bite he left on my shoulder.
Air finally tears into my lungs as his grip releases. Relief lasts all of a second before pain blooms across the fresh mark again. My broken whimper only spurs him on as he traces the blood.
“I-I want you to leave.”
Another amused chuckle. “Oh, do you now?”
“I won’t tell anyone about tonight.” That part is true. I made up my mind in the room, and this won’t change that. If anything, it secured the thought.
“Hmmm.” His arm, a band around my waist, slowly releases me. His hand skates down. “I know you won’t tell.” This time, I fight back. I’m about to elbow him when the grip on my throat tightens, and once again, my air is lost.
“Do you know how easy it is to kill you with just a quick flick of my wrist?”
The fight drains from my limbs. “I’m guessing it’s pretty easy,” I choke out. I wish I could see his eyes.
His hand slides down my stomach, fingers catching on the thin, raised scar low on my belly.
No exit, the bite of steel.
Running, darkness.
Grunting, gasping.
He goes still. So do I. The only sound is our mixed breathing and the drops of water hitting the tile floor. But unlike other times, I think back to the moments after I woke up on that cold floor— my pants crumpled next to me and a wet, sticky substance on my thighs—I don’t panic.
This is different. Even if fucked up. I could fight Oliver. Fight with everything in me, and he would let me leave. At least I think he would let me go.
“Where’s this from?” The question sounds like the Oliver I thought I was getting to know. The way he can switch so easily is terrifying.
“I’m not fucking telling you now,” I grit through my teeth.
“You would’ve told me if I played nice? Took you to dinner, went on a date?” I say nothing. I can’t tell if he’s being serious in his question or taunting me. Because yes, I would have. I knew deep down something was off. Even if my walls were up, he could have crumbled them.
“I didn’t plan on showing you this side of me until I was truly so deep in your world, in your heart, that it would have been impossible to get rid of me. Now we’re at a crossroads…where do we go from here?”
Is he joking? Crossroads? I say we take separate roads. Anger spikes and chooses my next words.
“I say you get the fuck out before I turn around, rip your dick off, and shove it down your throat.”
“Now that wouldn’t be very friendly, would it, baby.
But we have already been over that. We don’t do friendly conversations.
” He tips my head back so roughly that I have no control when my back arches into him.
My ass presses against his dick, which settles between my cheeks.
Dark, cold eyes meet mine as water droplets drip into my eyes, making me blink rapidly.
“The only place my cock will be going now and in the near future is down your pretty little throat.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss. “If I were to say no right now, scream it over and over, telling you to stop, would you?”
Dawning horror washes over me when I see the truth reflecting back. He wouldn’t care. “If I were to stick my fingers inside your cunt, would I find you wet?”
I bite my lip hard, tasting blood. “No.”
He releases my face. “Let’s see.” He drives me into the wall, cold tile crushing my breasts, a gasp ripping free at the shock. He nudges my feet wider with his knee, trailing his free hand down my spine, through my ass to my pussy. I squeeze my eyes shut, already knowing what he’ll find.
He thrusts two fingers inside of me, making me whimper.
“Dollface?” He pulls out his fingers, then, as if testing my body, pushes back in, crooking them. I nearly crumble to the floor.
“You like it.”
I would rather cut out my own tongue than give him anything besides the word no spilling from my lips. “I can’t wait till I catch you off guard. I’ll knee you in the balls so hard they’ll fucking disappear inside you, just so you can never have children,” I seethe.
I clench my eyes shut, pressing my forehead against the tile, hoping it’ll ground me. I watched him hours ago threaten someone, now I’m letting him put his fingers inside me. No, not letting him.
“Open your mouth.”
I don’t move.
“Don’t make me ask again. You know what will happen.”
I hate him.
“Suck.” I do.
“Perfect.” He says, spinning me to face him. My back hits the tile wall as water pours between us.
My legs tremble from getting my first real look at him.
His usually dirty blond hair is a few shades darker under the spray.
His lashes are wet, eyes shining with what looks like excitement.
Against my better judgment, I trace down his toned body, his arms that are bigger than I initially thought, over the ripples of lean muscle and flat stomach to his dick.
It stands at full attention. Long, thick, with a slight upward curve.
My look lasts three seconds at most; he catches it, and when I meet his eyes, he smirks.
“Like what you see?”
“No.” I spit the words, glaring.
“Liar.” The smirk stays in place. His hand tightens on my throat. “On your knees.”
My voice cracks. “No, Oliver, I—” Air vanishes. His grip clamps down, cutting me off mid-word.
“It wasn’t a question,” he murmurs, releasing me long enough to let me gasp. “Or a suggestion.” Lips ghost the shell of my ear, soft, almost tenderly. What a fucking contradiction. “Kneel, baby.”
I shake my head, defiance trembling on my lips. He only presses closer, chest against mine, his heartbeat unhurried. The silence between us is deafening. He waits. And when my legs finally give, when I drop to the slick floor, he smiles, eyes glittering with triumph.
He tilts my chin up with one finger. “You look better down there.”
Tile bites into my knees as his hand fists into my wet strands, yanking my head where he wants me. His cock juts out, tip glistening with precum. I want to bite it off. Scrape my teeth and make him fucking bleed.
His mouth tilts as if reading my thoughts, thumb pressing on my pulse.
“Your cunt’s wet just from me biting you.
It was unexpected. Yet so very pleasing.
” I clamp my lips shut. “You’ll open that mouth one way or another.
Question is, do you want me to be gentle…
or ruin you?” My mind goes back to the conversation we had about love and ruin. God, was it only yesterday?
He pushes a finger against my lip, forcing my mouth apart, before slapping his dick against it once.
When I look up and see nothing but sick amusement staring back at me, he takes advantage of my momentary shock to thrust his hips forward.
The sudden intrusion makes my throat seize.
A gag tears free, saliva spilling down my chin as my eyes instantly water.
His groan is guttural, laced with dark satisfaction.
“Suck. If I feel your teeth, I will choke you on my cock until you pass out.” His hand tightens in my hair, controlling every shallow breath, every inch I take. His free hand never leaves my pulse.
“There she is.”
He holds me there, as I sputter, my nose pressed to his trimmed pubic hair.
I feel him all the way down my throat. “Look at you, gorgeous even when you’re choking on my cock.
I’ve never seen anything so fucking pretty.
” I rake my nails down his thighs, blood blooming, making me feel a semblance of triumph.
He only thrusts deeper, using my mouth like I’m a fuck toy.
My vision blurs, my pussy flutters, unwanted and sickening. I shouldn’t be getting turned on by this. Not in the slightest, especially after seeing what he’s capable of. Is this a sign of how truly fucked up I am?
“You feel it, don’t you?” His voice remains steady, almost unmoved. “Even if you hate me, your body begs for me. That’s why you’ll never escape.” His thumb smears spit and precum down my chin before tipping my face towards him.
“Messy little Dollface,” he taunts.
Pulling out, Oliver presses his thumb against my tongue, forcing my mouth wider. “This mouth is mine.” His cock, slick with spit, hangs directly in front of my face while I drag greedy breaths into my burning lungs.
How the hell did that whole thing fit inside my mouth?
“Say it, Lyra.”
I shake my head, fury sparking as tears of humiliation, anger, and sadness mix, creating trails down my cheeks, mixing with the water. He laughs darkly. “Brat,” he says, before jerking me back onto his cock so fast I gag violently.
His grunt tears out of him as his cock twitches. “Take it all.” Hot, thick cum floods my mouth.
“Swallow every drop.” He groans as I swallow, my throat tightening around his length. Finally, he yanks me off with a wet pop.
I collapse to the floor, coughing. My knees ache. Heart aches. Jaw aches. He crouches, grabs my jaw, forcing my swollen lips open so he can see the mess. His grin is pure sin, thumb dragging my bottom lip down. “Now you know part of my darkness.”
He leaves me on the shower floor, trembling, humiliated, worse, already craving more. I peek out of the glass, watching him pull on his pants and his shirt before exiting the deserted bathroom.