Fifteen
Kallie
Callum. I say his name a few more times over in my head. It resonates with something deep inside me that I can’t quite place. I need to get the fuck out of here so I can go take a nice long shower. The way that man makes me feel is lethal. Ultimately, I’ve come to the conclusion that I would let him do anything to me, and there would be zero complaints, which is a concerning feeling all in itself.
My shoulder strains from the weight of my bag, and I begrudgingly check my phone.
*2 unread messages*
Clicking on the notifications, I stop dead in my tracks, my face completely leaching of color. Before I can fully process what the messages say, someone slams into my back, and I lose my balance, nearly falling on my face.
Stumbling forward, I brace myself on the nearby bench. Clenching my teeth, the bag falls from my shoulder, and I whip around, ready to give this person a piece of my mind.
However, he beats me to it. “Watch where you’re going.” My eyes land on a six-foot brute with a protein shake spilled down his shirt.
“Excuse me? You ran into me!” I seethe. “Better be careful, looks like the roids are affecting more than one of your heads.” Not wanting to deal with this, I turn back around, but the bastard grabs my arm and hauls me back, forcing my body to face him.
“Get the fuck off!” My hands land flat on his chest, getting sweat and protein bullshit all over them in the process. I try to push him away, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t let go.
“I think you owe me an apology, bitch,” he snarls back.
“I’m going to make something very fucking clear, pinhead. Let me go, or I swear to the goddess, I will be your worst fucking nightmare.” I tack on an innocent smile at the end.
“Oh yeah? I’m shaking in my fucking boots.”
Taking that as my answer, I plunge my elbow into the pit of his arm, breaking the connection. I spin around and send my foot flying into his stomach. He falls onto his ass, and just for good measure, I saunter over to stand in front of him. My right hand balls into a fist, and I cock my arm back, but before my fist makes contact, someone grabs my elbow, wrapping their other arm around my middle and hoisting me up.
I’m twisted and flung over a shoulder, and instantly my body goes rigid. All my instincts fly out the window and I’m paralyzed. It only lasts a moment, before I’m kicking my legs, seeking purchase against my captor, then in an instant, my sense are flooded with the scent of eucalyptus. Against my better judgment, I find myself sinking into the touch rather than be repulsed, like the smell offers me some sense of safety I can’t place.
It’s so familiar, it takes a heartbeat before I realize the ass I have a very full view of, belongs to the narcissistic meathead I can’t seem to get away from. It looks solid, like I could bounce a quarter off that baby.
Don’t poke it, don’t poke it, don’t poke it.
Right as I have that thought, a rumble of laughter shakes me. I didn’t say that out loud, did I?
“Oh, you fucking want a piece of me too, asshole?” There’s no humor in my tone, only pure irritation as he opens the door, leading us outside. The chilly October air is doing very little to cool my overheating body.
“Princess, I intend to take. Every. Single. One.”
“Callum? What the fuck are you doing? That dickhead grabbed me! I had everything under contr—” I let out a huff as my feet hit the ground, getting slightly dizzy while all the blood rushes back down from my head. Once the fucking world stops spinning, I intend on giving the big guy a piece of my damn mind. Only, he beats me to it, interrupting me before a word ever leaves my mouth.
“You think you have it all figured out, right? You think since you can take down a few neanderthals, you’re tough shit?”
“I almost had you in there! Both times! Goddess, you’re such an asshole. Don’t stand there acting like I didn’t. You.” Just to prove a point, I press my finger into his chest with each following word, never letting my eyes fall from his. “Are. The. Biggest. Egotistical. Misogynistic. Fucktwat”—my finger stays pressed against the middle of his unnaturally hard chest. It’s like a slab of marble was sewn under his shirt—“I have ever met, and if you think I’m going to leave with my tail tucked between my legs, you have another thing coming.”
“Oh, Princess.” His fingers wrap around my wrist, but he doesn’t try to move it away. My eyes cast down, a jolt passing through me at the sudden connection. Veins bulge from his forearm, his strenuous grip making them prominent.
“Eyes on me, little fighter.” He’s smiling down at me, that murderous dimple making an appearance. “You were fighting me at my worst. You wouldn’t survive me at my best.” He finally releases me, swiping my bag off the ground and handing it to me before he walks away. I hadn’t even noticed he grabbed it from inside.
Unmoving, I watch his retreating form while silently fuming. I don’t know what I’m more mad at—that dumbass in the gym or the fact that my traitorous body was only thinking of climbing Callum like a tree.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I decide the best course of action is to handle this straight on and follow him.
How does he move so fast? He couldn’t have gotten that far, but I don’t see him anywhere. And trust me, he isn’t easily missed. I’m so caught up in searching the groups of people in front of me that I almost miss him taking a sharp left turn at the end of the sidewalk.
This definitely feels like a setup. What could he possibly be doing down there? Maybe I should just go back. This seems stupid. I feel like that dumb bitch in every scary movie that you scream at to not open the door, and once she does, blood goes everywhere, and you never see her again.
Apparently, I’m that girl.
Going against my better judgment, I use his words to fuel my hatred and eat up the remaining distance on the sidewalk before dropping my bag and turning down the alleyway. At least if I die, they’ll know where to find my body.
My feet come to a screeching halt after turning the corner. It’s empty, aside from the few dumpsters, bags of trash, and who knows what else that’s littered over the ground. He very well could be behind a dumpster, but he doesn’t peg me for someone who hides.
Keeping my footsteps light, I trudge through the debris while clearing behind the first dumpster. My heart rate starts to speed up, the wind rustles the discarded cans, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
I’m not alone. I know I’m not. My body is suddenly set ablaze from the undeniable sensation, my sixth sense really kicking up a notch. The right side of my face starts to heat like someone is holding a lighter right against my skin. My breath gets caught in my lungs as pleasure spreads through my body. I close my eyes, trying to collect myself. In an instant, I’m spun around, and a hand is enclosed around my throat. Not hard enough to stop me from getting air, but just enough that it adds to my already conflicting response.
“What’s wrong, little fighter? Letting me get a hold of you like this? I expected better.” He’s so close the tips of our noses brush against one another, and I inhale his words.
“Who’s to say I didn’t let you—” My words are strained due to the increase in pressure around my throat as I speak.
“That’s where you’re wrong. We both know you didn’t let me do anything. You were…”—he trails off, and his gaze flicks to my pussy, where my arousal is pooling in my thong—“distracted.” A wicked grin spreads over his lips. His pointed canines flash me, framed by those damn dimples. There’s no way he could know what’s happening between my thighs. The chuckle he lets escape is making me question my sanity. “Give it your best shot, but know once you fail, I will be coming to collect.”
“Collect what?” My question is clipped and full of confusion, but I refuse to let him see me waver.
“Whatever it is I choose.”
The only response I give is my right leg swinging out to capture his. At the same time, I clasp both of my hands around his very hard forearm as I try to twist my body out of his hold. The thought of throwing him over my shoulder makes me internally laugh, because even at my peak, I would never be able to pick him up over myself. My thoughts vanish as his other arm wraps around my waist, and I’m pinned against the wall once more.
“If that’s the best you can do, I’m afraid we should stop now before you further embarrass yourself.”
I know he’s big, but this guy is a fucking statue. All my attempts to get out of his hold have been proven futile.
“Careful, Princess. Your defeat is showing,” he mocks, his tone taunting.
All my anger builds and builds, and I feel so fucking full I could explode. Like my anger is an entity in itself, and I need to let it out.
It needs to get the fuck out of me.
Before I can process what’s happening, my fist is flying into his face. My right hook hits him square in the cheek, and his grip slightly loosens. I take that opportunity to grip his wrist and twist, allowing myself to get away from the wall. A primal look slides into place as he stalks toward me. It’s unnerving, terrifying. The look of a wolf coming after its prey.
He matches me step for step until my back hits the brick wall, knocking some of the air out of my lungs. Eating up the distance between us, he places both hands on either side of my head, caging me in, his look turning sinister. Leaning in close, his breath hits the shell of my ear, making my body break out in goosebumps, and the silence around us deafening.
“Like I said, Princess, you never stood a chance.” He punctuates the last few words as if he’s making a point.
“If that was your best, I think you should start to work on that because I did almost have you—again,” I respond smugly.
He moves his face back in front of mine, and I’m staring into those beautiful onyx orbs, any trace of green I saw before…gone. Without breaking eye contact, he drops his left hand, and I’m about to turn to run, but he starts to lightly travel his hand up the outside of my thigh. Snaking up my body until it resides around my throat once more. Applying a little more pressure than last time, my vision starts to blur, and my head feels light. He raises me up, the tips of my toes grazing the disgusting ground, trying to find purchase.
“You almost had me? Pardon me, Princess, but it seems I do have you.” His eyes never leave mine as he inches closer. His lips brush over my cheek as he speaks, “You look like such a good girl with my hand wrapped around your pretty little neck. So delicate. I could break it with just a flick of my wrist.” My knees buckle at the increase of pressure, and I squeeze my thighs together as the pressure morphs into a strange sense of pleasure, and try to give myself a little relief. Callum notices my movements. “If you want help, all you have to do is get on your knees and beg.” A whimper escapes me at his words. What is wrong with me?
“Never,” I manage to breathe out.
With an eyebrow lift, he lets me go, and I drop. To my knees.
“Great, you’re halfway there.” I glare up at him as I try to catch my breath. With the oxygen returning to my brain, I get off the ground and brush off the filth that has stuck itself to my clothes.
He takes a step back, allowing me a small window of opportunity to get away. I side-step around him, but still stay facing him. Slowly I retreat, taking one step at a time, afraid if I move too quickly, I’ll trigger his predatory instinct.
Once there’s a safe distance between us, I feel brave enough to comment, “The only time you will ever see me beg you for anything will be in your dreams.”
His low chuckle echoes over the alleyway, leaving goosebumps covering my skin in it’s wake. Finally, once it’s simmered back down to the hostile silence, he leaves me with three parting words that chill me to the bone, “Or in yours.”
In the blink of an eye, his form vanishes into thin air, like a puff of smoke mingling with the surrounding stifling air. Although he’s not physically there, I can still feel his burning gaze watching me retreating form, so I continuously check over my shoulder until I’m out of the alleyway. Picking up my bag, the strap grazes my leg, and my thoughts instantly run back to Callum’s hand making the same trail, tracing me with a contradicting tenderness and fear.
Maybe it was the lack of oxygen, but there was a small part of me that considered his offer. And that scares me more than anything.
I’m almost to the dorm when the rain begins to fall. I really, really don’t want to run anymore. I’m fucking exhausted. The match with Callum took everything out of me—and then some. But I knew he was watching and felt him lurking after the match. I had to give him a show. Honestly, I expected a lot more from my last opponents. They made it too easy. I took them down with barely a thought.
That’s why I like sparring with Callum. He challenges me, never goes easy. It’s refreshing, but goddess do I want a fucking shower.
I briskly walk the rest of the way, and by the time I’m through the doors and headed toward the elevator, I’m soaked to the bone.
After unlocking the door, I throw my keys into the dish on the entryway table and kick my shoes off. I notice Kate staring at me from the couch, popcorn mid-air, making its way into her mouth.
“What happened to you?”
“Oh, ya know. I decided to hop into the fountain for an after-workout swim.” I gesture to the window to her right that is being drowned from the rain. “What do you think happened?”
“Alright, alright. What has your panties in a twist? Do I need to call Stephan and have him unwind them for you?” Her look is mischievous, but I stand there, confused.
“Who the fuck is Stephan?”
“Ha ha, very funny. I thought things were going well. At least that’s what your texts told me,” she explained, waving her phone in the air. I go to reach for it, but she pulls it back, staring at my feet. “Take one more step with your soaked-ass clothes still on, and I will burn your books.”
“Jesus, Kate, just let me see!”
“Nice try. Go dry off.” She points to my door. When I’m almost to the door, she yells over her shoulder, “You can always check your phone, dumbass.”
She has a point. I pull my phone out of my bag, and when I open my messages, I’m greeted with the reason this entire thing started.
*2 unread messages *
Nope. Nope. I’m not fucking dealing with this. I swipe the thread over and hit delete. I navigate to Kate’s thread, and I see absolutely no messages that have anything to do with a Stephan. Frustrated, I throw my phone onto my bed and strip out of my wet clothes. Wrapping myself in a towel, I grab my caddy and head back to the living room.
“Kate, there are literally no messages about Stephan. I’ll look when I get back from the shower.”
“Looks like you already took one.” I don’t reply and, instead, just shut the door behind me, leaving her words trapped on the other side.