3. Astor #2
This is entirely unsafe and cannot be sanctioned by the university. They’re going to end up killing someone—but a twisted realization hits me—they won’t care if they do.
They are the children of the worst of the worst. They were born and raised with death all around them.
It’s in their veins as much as royalty is in mine.
It probably happens all the time. Not so often the university notices, but what’s a few missing people a year?
No one is going to look into some runaway college kids.
My fear is back.
I could really die out here.
No one would know what happened to me.
My brother would be left without answers and to fight for his throne alone.
It would break my heart to leave him with that fate.
But my will to see this to its end surpasses my instinct to run.
I’ve been through so much worse, and I’m still breathing.
“Are you ready?” His voice is filled with delight, because of course it is.
Disgusting, depraved degenerates.
He lifts the long bow.
I remain frozen in place as he toys with me.
He selects an arrow and raises the bow.
“Smile. I promise there’s no rush like a brush with death.”
Fuck this asshole.
I don’t smile, but I also don’t blink.
I hate him more than I already did.
He takes aim.
I don’t flinch.
I don’t look away.
A few of the recruits run, darting away before any of the bolts are let loose.
The leader clicks his tongue but lets them sprint off.
I keep my attention on the man across from me and his piercing eyes until they are the only thing that exists. I find my unwavering nerve and stand firm.
“Good boy.” He lets loose a bolt, and my entire body tries to recoil.
I don’t let it.
This is fucking madness.
And that gives me more resolve to beat their fucking game.
I want this.
Actually, I need it. Somehow, I don’t move as he draws another bolt. My eyes glaze over, and I’m in my mind, in the pit there. Forever falling. But my body doesn’t move. My muscles default to their training.
I must have zoned out because next thing I know, his mask knocks against mine.
“Good job.” His breath is warm and intrusive. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“You really get off on this, don’t you?” If I didn’t know he probably had to do the same to join, I’d be throwing it in his face, but we are equals in this.
“Just a little.” He's invading my space, and I’m already too deep into the focus on his eyes. It doesn’t help. I can’t breathe, and he’s not even shooting at me anymore. “But more so with you, baby.”
“Sick bastard.”
He reaches for an arrow above my head. “You stayed. You didn’t have to.”
“Fuck off. You know I do.”
“What’s that? You want to get me off?” He presses his entire body against me as he reaches for the arrow above my head, working it out of the wood.
“Is that necessary?” I growl.
“Is what necessary?” He presses his groin into my hip. He can’t be hard—can he? He’s entirely muscle. It’s got to be that. Or his gun, or something else. No one gets hard shooting at another person.
“You know what.” I get my hands between us and push, but it’s useless.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about?” This must be an act.
“You pressing yourself against me. Is it really necessary?” I’m not going to say he’s acting gay, in case he takes it as an insult. Not that it is, but in their world who knows what they think.
“It is.”
“Why? Are you still trying to physically intimidate me? I know you’re bigger, you’ve proved your point.”
“That’s not it at all.”
I know he wants me to ask, and I can’t stop myself. “Then what is it?”
“I want to get to know you better.” His hips shift, and I’m sure he’s turned on.
“And you think this is the way?” I still don’t get what he’s doing. It’s too far even for an arsehole.
“Which way?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what you’re doing.” I attempt to keep my voice calm but fail.
He shoves his knee between mine, right into my balls. “This?”
“Yes, that. What is the point?” I fight against his weight, shoving my shoulder blades against the tree to use as leverage.
He rocks, rolling his hips against mine. “I was just trying to get my arrows, but I’d love a round two with swords. Is that what you want? More? Harder? Clothes optional…”
I have to bite back a groan. What is wrong with me? Irritation flashes red hot, but I can’t hold on to it. “You have your arrows. Get off of me.”
“Is that a no? Done playing?” He stops moving, teasing his fingers across my jaw.
“Stop.” My cheeks flush as humiliation floods through me. Everyone can hear him. They’ll think I like this. That I want him touching me. They’ll think I’m trying to fuck my way into the group.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” His chest flattens against mine. “Because I don’t believe you, baby.”
“What is your problem?” I suck in some air, brain fried, then I stop fighting, and he stills, but he doesn’t back up.
“Going to leave me wondering?”
“Leave you wondering what?” I can’t think straight. I need him to get away from me.
“I asked if you’re sure,” he whispers seductively.
He’s too close to me. I swallow hard, overwhelmed and unable to answer.
His lips find my ear. “Your dick is telling a different story.”
My brain shuts down. I don’t retaliate. I’ve never been able to. I always freeze.
Before I can regain myself enough to tell him to get off me, his weight disappears.
“Got my arrows.” He holds them up, like the whole thing was nothing.
None of the guys even seem to notice.
Or maybe this is normal for them.
I try to find the shreds of my composure.
“At least a few of you passed. We’ll be in touch,” the leader bows and backs towards the quickly invading mist. If I thought it was possible, I would believe they manufactured it.
I turn to return the way I came, not excited about the long hike back, and slam into him. I bounce back, stumbling.
His arms wrap around me, preventing me from falling, and my senses are engulfed with his scent again. It will cling to me long after I leave. “See, I take good care of you, baby.”
I grind my teeth, not sure if I should punch him or be happy he’s such a good shot. “Barely.”
“Aw, baby, you should have more faith in me.” He moves his hand to my jaw, lifting my face to his. He’s overwhelming, but I cling to my control.
“What reason do I have to give you any faith?”
“I didn’t hit you, did I?” His mouth is almost on mine, save for the mask separating us.
“Hardly a bar to call care taking.” I scoff, digging into my hatred and embarrassment.
“You really should be more appreciative.” He brushes his thumb under my mask like he wants to see my face.
I don’t dare shove him off or risk pissing him off. What if he controls whether I move to the next step? I kick myself for not being nicer. Not tolerating this.
It’s just hazing. I can withstand it.
“I’m sorry,” I force out the words. “I’ll work on appreciating the guy shooting arrows at my head.”
“Such a harsh edge to you.” He brushes hair off my forehead.
“Why are you following me?” I thought this was over.
“I told you. I want to get to know you.” What could his possible motive be?
“Then let me into Legacy.”
“It’s more complicated than that.” He should have let go of me, but he doesn’t and either I’m getting used to it or developing a disorder because I don’t try to fight it.
“I’m sure you can make it less complicated.” I decide to use whatever this is to my advantage.
“Maybe…”
“Are you going to let me go?” I ask, still not trying to extract myself from his grasp.
“For now. But don’t worry, you’ll be seeing me again.”
It’s a threat.