nineteen #2
“About damn time,” Saint says, smirking at me from where he lays back on the bed, naked in all his glory, with his wild hair spilling around him and his tattooed, muscular arm tucked behind his head.
“Don’t worry, little sister. There are positions to make even the loosest pussy feel tighter.
Do some research. You’ll do next time she’s not around. ”
“I will never be her backup,” I swear, my voice shaking with rage.
I can’t look at Ronique.
I stomp to the door, then take one last look over my shoulder.
Saint hasn’t covered himself. He wants me to see how little he cares.
His cock is full and thick, still halfway hard, with our combined release glistening in trails along its impressive length.
He watches me, smug amusement on his face, like he got me to do exactly what he wanted.
I didn’t prove he wanted me. I proved how much I wanted him, practically forced myself on him, like the desperate whore he says I am.
I proved that true as well. After all, here I am, already fucked full of the cum of three men, climbing onto him and forcing him to add more, showing him that no matter how much they give me, I can’t get enough.
I will never be full enough, no matter how full they fill me.
I will always be starving for what I lost, desperate for something I can never get back, something I never had.
Saint knew that long before I did, and he let me show him—and Ronique.
That’s the most humiliating part. That she’s seen me like this.
Not only my guys know, but now all my friends will too, and maybe the rest of campus.
For all I know, she took pictures to show the world, just like the guys have.
After all, isn’t that the best way to destroy a girl like me?
Not lie about her or slander her name. Simply tell the truth.
I stumble out into the cool, damp night, my eyes blurring with tears, my heart in pieces. One arm clutches my middle, as if I can hold myself together, contain all the pain Saint pounded into me.
“Hey, you going to just ignore us like that?” calls a voice.
A second later, a man falls into step beside me, and another steps to my other side.
“That wasn’t very nice,” says a slithery voice behind me.
I jump a mile, whipping my head around to see another man, this one taller and thinner, with a goatee that reminds me of the bowler in this movie called The Big Lebowski that the Quint was obsessed with back in the day. Except this guy has a hard glint in his eyes, something malicious and ominous.
I turn back to face the path, my heart hammering.
“We were waiting for you,” says the guy who hadn’t spoken yet, a stocky guy in his mid-twenties with blood crusting his nostrils.
“Why?” I blurt out.
“Our boss wants a word,” he says.
I swallow hard, considering whether I could take these three guys.
I’m not used to fighting men, since Dynamo did me the disservice of only allowing me to fight women in the pit.
Something about protecting me. Now, it’s a disadvantage.
At least I’ve had a few opportunities on campus, thanks to the Sinners.
“Who’s your boss?” I ask.
“Why don’t you let him introduce himself?” asks the goateed man.
Frederick, the reclusive head of the Skull and Crossbones, must have sent them.
And after the guys refused when I offered to let them use me as bait, this feels like a second chance.
If I fight them off, he’ll send someone else.
He won’t give up until he gets what he wants.
Like Annabel Lee said, there are lots of them, and only one of me.
But maybe one of me is all I need.
The guys didn’t even have to use me as bait. I already was. Now I’ve hooked just the man I needed to talk to. I just have to keep my head—literally and figuratively—long enough to find out where Eternity is. This might be my only chance.
And if I’ve learned anything this year, it’s how easy it is to fool a powerful man who thinks you’re harmless and innocent as a lamb.
I did it to the guys, didn’t I? They would have never guessed I was Merciless.
I played dumb, and they believed me. I pretended I was powerless, and they believed me.
I acted helpless and na?ve, and they fell for it.
Now, all that feels like a warmup for this.
If I go along, docile as a lamb to the slaughter, they might believe I am one.
If I play my cards right, I can convince Frederick that I’m not a threat.
I’m just a dumb girl who asked questions about her best friend because she misses the sleepovers they used to have.
He’ll never know that we stopped having those after Mom found us trying to use the skills Heath taught us to pick the lock on Dad’s gun locker.
So I don’t fight the guys, even though I might be able to take all three. I let them lead me around the side of the building away from the movie screening. I don’t call for help when a couple walks by, leaving the movie to slip back to the dorm for a little time alone before lights out.
The three men march me toward the road, then to the corner, where a van is parked.
It’s not a creepy white van with no windows, like you see in movies.
This one is huge, with tinted windows and a luxury brand logo on the front.
The lights are on, and the engine purrs to life as we approach.
When we reach it, the tall guy goes around and climbs into the driver’s seat while the other two open the door and usher me inside.
Two bench seats sit facing each other, more like a limo than a scary kidnapper van.
In the center of the one facing forward, a man sits waiting.
He looks like the driver but bigger, stouter and a bit older.
I hesitate, my pulse pounding so erratically I can’t make a decision.
Fear thrums through me, but I know that panicking doesn’t help.
I have to use the fear, like I do in the pit.
So I climb into the van and sit on the seat facing him, meeting his eye like I’m no more scared of him than I am an opponent at the Slaughterpen.
The other two guys climb up and close the door, and the van pulls away from the curb.
My heart stops, but I don’t flinch.
“Hi,” I say, when the man doesn’t speak, but only studies me with a cool, calculating gaze. “I’m Mercy. But I guess you know that already.”
“I do,” he says. “It’s nice to finally make your acquaintance in person, though. Judging by your willingness to join me, can I assume you won’t be any trouble?”
“No trouble,” I assure him with my most demure smile.
“Good,” he says, holding out a hand to shake. “I’m sure you know who I am too.”
I take his hand, my gaze meeting his grey one.
The realization snaps into place too late, and in a split second, I know why he looks so familiar.
Our palms connect in that instant, and something sharp bites into my skin.
I try to recoil, but he grips my hand firmly, refusing to release it, pressing the painful point deeper.
“Nice of you to join us, Mercy Soules. You’ll have to excuse the precautions. I needed a little bit more than your word. My sons seem to think you’re loads of trouble. From what I’ve heard so far, I’m inclined to agree.”
My mind has grown so fuzzy, my body so heavy, that all I want to do is lie down, but I can’t seem to remember how.
Julian Sincero releases my hand and catches me when I pitch forward. He lays me on the floor of the van between the seats.
“They tell me you’re quite a skilled combatant—famous even,” he says, stroking my cheek with the back of his fingers. “Fame is always a selling point. And with this face, you’ll fetch me quite a pretty penny.”