Chapter 14 #2
Not at all the most confusing, guilt-inducing, terrifying, and somehow thrilling moment of my entire life.
Julian pushed the bra strap down slowly, the backs of his fingers brushing my skin. It was such a simple touch, yet it made something electric spark through my veins.
He dropped his hand and leaned in, close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath against my bare shoulder. “Did that hurt?”
And did you like it? I imagined him saying next. Shame instantly tangled up with desire deep inside me, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe.
“No,” I finally murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
It wasn’t pain that was making my heart race. It was him. His touch. The crazy contradiction of danger and comfort I felt when he was close to me.
If he was a monster, why did it feel so easy to breathe when he was near?
If he was really involved in the coverup surrounding Cal’s death, why did his touch feel like the first thing that made sense to me in months?
God, I hated myself for even thinking it. But now that those thoughts were in my head, I couldn’t stop my brain from racing down that dark track.
If Julian was actually involved with all of the Dionysus Club's sordid activities, and he knew what happened to Cal, why would he help me like this? Why risk being seen with me, defending me, and bringing me home when it could land him in trouble with his colleagues? It didn’t make sense.
Unless it was all part of some plan. Maybe he was trying to get close to me, gain my trust, figure out what I knew. But if that were true, why had he looked so genuinely concerned about my shoulder? And why were his hands so gentle with me?
You're being an idiot, Violet, I told myself for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. You can't trust him. Can't let your guard down just because he punched one asshole for you.
Unfortunately, my traitorous body didn't seem to care about logic.
Besides… maybe I was wrong about him after all. Because the man standing behind me right now, checking my injuries with a touch so careful it made my chest ache, really didn't seem like someone who'd stalk me and write a threat in blood on my wall.
Then again, psychopaths were good at seeming normal, weren't they? That was part of what made them so dangerous.
A low, frustrated groan rose in my throat, threatening to escape my mouth.
God, I was so confused. And tired. And sore. On top of all that, I could still feel the phantom warmth of Julian’s palm against my skin, and I hated that part of me wanted him to touch me again.
“Lift your left arm for me,” Julian commanded. I did as he said, and he pressed on my back, instantly fulfilling my desire to be touched by him again. “Does this feel okay?”
I nodded. “It’s a little sore, but not too bad.”
“Good. Nothing feels broken,” he went on, gently pulling my arm back down to my side. “You'll have a hell of a bruise tomorrow, but you won’t need a doctor. Ice and rest should do the trick. Do you happen to have an icepack in here?”
“Sort of,” I said, lifting my right arm to point toward my minifridge. “There’s a little freezer compartment at the bottom of that, and I always have a bag of Mochi Moons in it.”
“What’s a Mochi Moon?”
“They’re balls of ice-cream wrapped in mochi. They taste amazing.”
“Well, I guess that’s better than nothing,” he said, voice laced with amusement. “Once I’m gone, use the bag to ice the area for twenty minutes. It’ll help with the swelling.”
With that, he pulled my straps back up for me, and I turned back to face him, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. I knew he couldn’t possibly have missed the goosebumps peppering my skin, or the red flush creeping over the back of my neck, stretching around to my face and chest.
“How do you know so much about this stuff?” I asked in an attempt to distract him from it all.
“I had to learn some basic sports medicine stuff when I was younger,” he replied. “I was training in Muay Thai, so it’s pretty important to know how to deal with potential injuries, just in case.”
Muay Thai. That explained how he knocked Kane out with one punch and made it look like child’s play.
“That’s cool. Do you ever fight?” I asked. “Like in competitions, or just for fun at the gym?”
His eyes flashed with something unreadable. Pride, perhaps, but I really couldn’t be sure. “Yeah, something like that,” he said in a low voice, rubbing his jaw.
“Cool. Anyway, um… thanks for helping with all of this,” I murmured, because I didn't know what else to say.
“You don't have to thank me,” he replied. “I wasn’t going to stand there and watch that asshole hurt you.”
There was something else in his voice now.
Something raw and honest that made my breath catch.
Or was I just imagining that? Reading things into his words that weren't really there because I wanted so desperately to believe he was someone other than the coldhearted, ruthless bastard all my friends said he was?
Still, the way he’d said it—low, certain, protective—made something shift in me, and for a second, the fear I’d been carrying around all week loosened its grip, just enough for my curiosity to slip through.
If he actually knew anything about my sister, then now was the time to ask. This exact moment, when I could look him right in the eye and tell if he was lying.
I took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of mental strength I had within me. Then I tilted my chin upward, trying to ignore my rapidly-thudding heart. “Can I ask you something?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
Did you know my sister? Was she dating your brother?
The words bubbled up my throat, but they died on my lips as the same old fears flooded back.
God, what was I thinking? I couldn’t just come out and ask Julian about Calista.
What if he was involved in the coverup of her murder, like I’d initially suspected?
What if asking the wrong questions put me in even more danger than I was already in?
What if it tipped him off that I was still investigating, and he went back to the Club and told them everything?
“I think I saw you in my Business Strategy lecture the other day,” I said instead. “So I was wondering… do you remember if Professor Chang told us to read chapter four or five of the textbook before our next class?”
“Five,” he said, brows pulling into a slight frown. It was like he somehow knew I’d intended to ask something else but lost my nerve, and that disappointed him.
“Cool. Thanks.” My heart was still in my throat. “And thanks again for tonight, too.”
“No problem.” He glanced at his watch. “I should get going now. Remember the ice.”
With that, he turned and headed outside, pulling the door shut behind him with a soft click.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door. Then I forced myself to my feet and turned the lock, the metallic snap somehow both reassuring and isolating.
I could still smell Julian’s cologne. The intoxicating scent lingered everywhere, like it had seeped into the very walls of my room.
I briefly closed my eyes and pressed my hands to my flushed cheeks, trying to calm my racing heart. This was wrong. So, so wrong.
Julian Valcourt had just been in my room, and his hands had been all over me. And instead of being terrified or disgusted or appropriately wary, I was...
God, I was horny. Hornier than I’d ever been in my life.
Shame flooded through me so intensely I thought I might combust. My body was shaking, every nerve ending hypersensitive, skin still tingling where he'd touched me.
I briskly crossed the room to my minifridge and grabbed the Mochi Moons bag with shaking hands, pressing it against my upper back like Julian had instructed.
I hoped it would cool the heat searing through my veins, but I barely even felt it.
I was burning from the inside out, my body betraying me in the most humiliating way possible.
With a groan of frustration, I tossed the bag on the bed.
Then I thought about Julian’s hands again. The careful way he'd examined my injury, so gentle despite the violence I'd witnessed in the parking lot. The contrast between those two versions of him—brutal protector and tender caregiver—made something in my stomach clench.
Stop it. Stop it right now.
But my mind refused to cooperate, conjuring up images I had no business imagining. Those hands on other parts of me. His body pressed against mine. The intensity in his eyes focused on me for an entirely different reason.