Chapter 16 #2
I had been meticulously careful to avoid the police during my evening reconnaissance after dropping Violet at her dorm.
I’d spent hours scouring the grounds for clues the authorities might either miss or—more likely—overlook as a clue entirely.
After all, the police were looking for a human suspect and wouldn’t even notice anything that would have suggested a supernatural explanation.
Since my meeting with the vampyress in her oak tree sanctuary, I had not encountered her again. But the fragment of information she’d provided was enough to confirm my suspicions that something beyond mortal evil had taken that student’s life.
Last night’s scouting had given me time to learn the campus geography with intimate detail. Every building, every path, every shadowed alcove. Even the stables where Violet rode had become familiar territory after Aaron confirmed my relationship with her through Levi.
I had been genuinely surprised when Levi gave his blessing for me to access the equestrian facilities.
Surprised and grateful, two feelings I was unaccustomed to feeling towards him.
Little did Levi suspect that those moments watching Violet ride Hyacinth had become something I looked forward to with an intensity that should have concerned me.
How her body moved in perfect synchronization with the horse, the way her face transformed by genuine peace and joy—it was the only time she ever seemed to be truly at ease.
The sight tightened something in my throat every time.
Despite the short time, somehow we’d fallen into something approaching comfortable silence around each other.
Close proximity would do that, I supposed.
It was as if we were both studying each other intimately without wanting the other to know.
We’d learned each other’s rhythms, our tolerances, the precise moments to speak and when to simply exist side by side.
Still, our tempers flared from time to time.
Such as right now, I thought, staring at her plump round ass walking away from me.
“I need you to lay the fuck off, Rowan!” Her voice echoed in the stone corridor as she rushed from the communal showers back towards her dorm, her hair damp and smelling of expensive floral shampoo I unconsciously smelled for, her shower caddy clutched against her chest like a shield.
She was dressed in a white t-shirt and shorts that hugged her ass in ways that made my hand twitch.
It was nearly eight p.m., and students were beginning to settle for the night, mindful of the ten o'clock curfew that hung over campus like a guillotine blade. Doors closed. Voices lowered. The building took on that particular quiet of enforced containment.
“Go home, for fuck’s sake!”
“I plan to,” I said, matching her pace easily despite her attempts to outdistance me. “But I thought you wanted to grab dinner before I left—"
“I can walk one hundred yards to the cafe, Rowan!” She whirled on me, and I saw genuine distress beneath her anger. Her eyes were too bright, her breathing elevated beyond what the short walk warranted.
She was upset, and I could not determine why. We’d had a pleasant enough day—studying together, walking between her classes, sharing a quiet lunch where she’d actually laughed at something I’d said.
“People are going to start thinking things if you keep walking me all the way to my room,” she said, her voice dropping lower as two girls passed us in the hallway, their curious eyes taking in our proximity.
Oh. Really?
“What kind of things, Violet?” I kept my voice neutral, genuinely curious what assumptions bothered her enough to trigger this reaction.
She flustered, color flooding her cheeks. “Just—go away.”
“I never expected you to be so prudish.” The observation slipped out before I could consider whether it was wise.
“I am not prudish!” Her voice pitched higher, and she glanced around to ensure no one was listening before hissing, “But a girl wants to masturbate away from her fuck boy occasionally!”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The image of her, frustrated and wanting, desperately trying to find privacy for self-pleasure while I hovered outside her door like some Victorian chaperone, was absurdly funny.
And if she thinks being honest or crude will scare me, she is about to learn how quickly I can match her pace.
“We both know you are severely lacking in fuck boys, Violet.”
That raised her hackles beautifully. She stormed closer, jabbing a finger hard into my chest. “I’ve had my fair share, thank you very much.”
Proprietary fury struck through me, hot and immediate and absolutely irrational. My jaw clenched hard enough to ache. “And who the hell did you let touch you?” The words came out sharp, edged with anger, as my fingers ached to leave imprints on her ass.
“Whoever I wanted!” She jabbed my chest again, punctuating each word. “Why does it matter? Because it is my choice, Rowan. My body. My decision.”
“Your father would never have allowed—" I started, falling back on logic and parental authority.
“Daddy wouldn’t know!” She cut me off, her hazel eyes flashing in gold and green. “I snuck out to do it, obviously. What, you think I asked permission?”
I was angry now, genuinely angry in a way I hadn’t felt in years. “That was not safe, Violet. What if someone had tried to hurt you, or worse—"
“I can take care of myself!” She shoved me, and I let her move me back a step. “I’m not some delicate princess like you keep calling me.”
“You are a spoiled princess,” I fired back, my patience finally snapping. “Is that why you are so angry with me? Me following you, protecting you, keeping you safe? It prevents you from going out and rutting the night away with some frat boy?”
Her eyes went wide, then narrowed into dangerous slits.
“And what if it is? It’s none of your business who I decide to rut with, Rowan.
” Her voice turned cold then. “Or is this jealousy? Is that it? Are you jealous that I’d rather sneak away to find a real man to fuck me?
A man whose face I could use like a god damn throne? Just like the princess you claim I am?”
My cock swelled immediately, blood rushing south so fast it made me dizzy. An image slammed into me: Violet straddling my face, her hands tangled in my hair as I struggled to breathe.
Fuck.
“You would not know how to handle me, Violet.” My voice had gone rough, barely controlled.
She threw her hands up, nearly dropping the shower caddy as plastic bottles clattered to the floor, rolling across the tile. “Oh, because you absolutely scream well-experienced. Go fuck off and find your next girl to stalk. I’m done with you tonight.”
“Gladly.” I bit the word out, my pride stung, and my cock still painfully hard. “Go kill your toys’ batteries thinking about me.”
We stormed off in opposite directions—her towards her dorm room, me towards the stairs—both of us acting like petulant children rather than adults.
I did not care.
She was like a splinter embedded deep in my flesh, impossible to extract, the foreign object slowly being absorbed and integrated until it became part of me. Growing with me. Changing me in ways I couldn’t map or predict or control.
Maddening. She is absolutely maddening.
After our fight, I left campus entirely for an hour, desperate to burn off the restless energy crackling through my system like electricity seeking ground.
I was careful to avoid well-traveled areas, sticking to the paths I’d mapped during previous evening hunts.
I made my way back to where I’d first encountered the vampyress, that grove of ancient oaks near the library where the veil between worlds felt thinner.
The trees there were perfect for what I needed—thick branches, dense canopy, enough height to see campus spread below while remaining hidden from casual observation. The stone walls surrounding the older buildings provided handholds and ledges, routes I could navigate in near silence.
I climbed until my muscles screamed, until sweat soaked through my shirt and my hands bled from fresh scrapes.
Pushed my body until the image of Violet straddling my face finally faded enough that I could think clearly.
I needed my rope. The methodical movement kept my mind busy and prevented me from craving untouchable things.
By the time I returned to her dorm building, I was sweaty but spent, the violent edge of possessive anger finally dulled to something manageable.
Alice met me at the door, either arriving or departing—I couldn’t immediately tell which. She wore a light jacket over her summer dress and carried a small purse, suggesting the latter.
“Oh, Rowan.” She smiled, stepping aside to let me enter. “I’m meeting my friend, so I won’t be back before curfew. Violet’s sleeping. I imagine she’s exhausted after all those nightmares.”
I went still, every muscle locking. “Nightmares?”
Alice’s expression shifted to something like guilt, as if she’d revealed a secret she shouldn’t have. “Sorry. I thought you knew, given how much time you spend together. She’d been cranky lately, and I connected it with her lack of sleep.”
I shook my head, keeping my voice level despite the sudden spike of concern. “Explain. Please.”
She glanced down the hallway, confirming we were alone, then lowered her voice.
“She gets nightmares regularly. Normally, I sleep through them, but the worst ones. . .” Alice’s face softened with sympathy.
“She cries out. Says things. I’ve gotten up once or twice to soothe her, and it seems to help settle her back into deeper sleep.
She doesn’t realize it, and I don’t plan on telling her. ”
Gratitude flared through me, unexpected and profound. “Thank you. Truly. For taking care of her.”