Kill Switch (Devil's Night, #3)

by Penelope Douglas

“You could never not draw attention,” he finally said. “And it has nothing to do with you being blind.” The way he said it—gentle and thoughtful—made heat rise to my cheeks, and I didn’t know if he meant my dancing or if I was pretty, but I smiled to myself, suddenly warm all over.

I didn’t have time to ask him to clarify, though, because the next thing I knew he was in front of me, reaching back, grabbing my thighs, and hefting me up onto his back. I sucked in a breath, my feet lifting off the ground, and I hurriedly circled my arms around his neck so I wouldn’t fall. “I can walk faster,” I told him. “I can. I didn’t mean—” “Shut up and hold me tight.” Okayyyy. I locked my arms arou...

Taking my hand, he led me around to the driver’s side, opened the door, and climbed in, and I heard the seat slide, but I wasn’t sure if he was moving it forward or backward. Something else shifted, too. The steering wheel? My heart pumped harder, and apprehension made me retreat a step. I don’t think… “Come here,” he said. Uh, no. Maybe this isn’t a great idea. His fingers took mine, and he tugged. “Get in this car right now.” My stomach sank to my feet as I hesitated, and I felt a little sick. I could go back to the house right now. I could go to bed with my music and audiobooks and my quiet house while the world continued to spin around me, and the next time I was given a chance to do something wild, stupid, and scary, it would be even easier to turn tail and run… Every day just as predictable as the last. This was stupid. And illegal. But he was fun. I didn’t want it to be over. I closed my eyes and let my shoulders slump a little, defeated. Fine. I slid a leg into the car, ducking my head as he guided me into his lap, fitting my legs between his long ones. I leaned back a little, so I wasn’t right up on the steering wheel, my back pressed against his chest. Placing my hands on the wheel, he wrapped my fingers around it. “It’s like a clock,” he instructed. “You’re at ten o’clock and two o’clock right now.” His fists tightened around mine, emphasizing my position. I nodded, my belly still somersaulting like crazy. “I’ll handle the pedals and the stick shift,” he told me...

His right hand settled on the gear shift, moving it into position, and his breath fell on my neck as my fists grinded the steering wheel. “You’re going to pull up onto the street, just to the left,” he explained. “When you feel all four tires on the smooth pavement, straighten out.” I swallowed, nodding again. “Not too much gas at first, okay?” All I heard was another laugh, though. Okay, so maybe I didn’t trust him.

I smiled, a combination between a laugh and a gasp pouring out of me, and as soon as I registered the rear tires climb onto the road, I twisted the wheel back to the right to make sure I stayed in my lane. But then the car quickly fell off the road again, back onto the same rocks and grass I just drove away from, bouncing over the bump where the pavement ended. “Oh, shit!” I turned the wheel left, taking us back onto the road. But I was afraid I would drive into the other lane and shot right again, both tires on the right side, falling off the side of the damn road again. I can’t do this. I shook my head, breathing hard as I tried to right myself. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” “Shhh,” he soothed, his left hand resting on my hip. “We’ve got all the time in the world.” My chin trembled, because I was embarrassed and frustrated, and I didn’t want to do this, because I would just make a fool out of myself. I was just going to fail! Why was he trying to embarrass me? Tears pooled, the car slowed to a crawl, and I closed my eyes, breathing in and out to get my head straight again. It’s okay. We’ve got all the time in the world. We’ve got all the time in the world. I blew out a long, slow breath. It’s okay. It’s okay. He wasn’t rushing me. He wasn’t mocking me. He wasn’t hurrying me. It was okay if I learned things a little slower. It was okay. I sniffled, and even though he couldn’t see my face, he probably knew I was crying, but I stretched my fingers and gripped the wheel again. “Ok...

The left tires ran over little bumps every few feet, and I realized they were reflectors in the middle of the road, so drivers could see their lanes at night. That was my mark. How I could tell when I left my lane. My shoulders relaxed just a little, and I sat up straighter. Okay. I kept the wheel positioned in my lane, feeling when the right side would dip a little as it did right before it gave way to grass, and feeling the reflectors on the left, keeping me from veering into the opposing lane. My wheel wasn’t always straight, but we were going slow enough I could tell when the road curved just slightly in order to stay between my markers. “You did it,” he whispered. I broke out in a smile, my eyes still wet, but feeling a lot better than I did a few minutes ago. He didn’t teach me, either. He didn’t tell me about the reflectors or how to move the wheel or anything. He just waited for me to learn it on my own. It was a nice change and took the pressure off. It was nice not to feel hurried.

“Okay, it’s gonna curve right in—” “Shh,” I snapped, shutting him up. I needed to listen. And then, as he warned, the reflectors twisted right, and I needed to correct the wheel to follow it, surprisingly not going off the road like I half-expected. “Jesus Christ,” he laughed, sounding impressed. “Okay, I’ll just take a nap. You have fun.” “Don’t you dare!” I scolded.

We charged down the road, and I was having so much fun now. But I wasn’t the one who was losing control. My pulse and breathing had calmed. His, on the other hand… I felt his chest rise and fall against my back as his breath hit my cheek, shallow and labored. I curled my lips in a little smile. My turn. “Tell me when,” I said. “When what?” “I want to turn again.” I felt his head shake side to side. “We’re going too fast for that now, Little Devil.” I held onto the wheel and lifted up my foot, putting it on top of his and pressing it into the pedal, so he didn’t let off the gas. “Please?” His voice shook. “Winter...” I nudged the steering wheel side to side, playing. “Left or right? You choose or I will.” He breathed hard through his teeth, gripping my hips with both hands now. “No.” “I’m gonna do it.” “No,” he growled in a loud whisper. “You do what you’re told.” I jammed down on his foot, accelerating the car a little more. “Left or right?” I asked, my nose brushing his. “Tell me.” He panted, digging his fingers into my skin through my sweatshirt. “Three,” I threatened, counting down. “Two…” “Okay, okay, okay,” he said. “Wait. Just wait.” I leaned my forehead into his. “One.” “Okay, three o’clock! Now!” he hissed. I faced forward, rotated the wheel right, both of us slamming into the door as the car sprung over the dips and uneven earth on the new gravel road. “No, four!” he shouted, realizing three wasn’t enough. “Four o’clock! Shit!”

I turned it more, but we knew it was a lost cause. I lost the wheel as the car skidded and spun out, and my body coiled up on reflex to protect itself. His arms went around me, covering my head, and I screamed as the car tipped onto one side, balancing for a moment and threatening to flip over, but then fell back onto all four tires again. The car stilled, the engine died, and I stayed like that, cradled in his lap, taking a mental inventory of my body. Other than banging my knee on the steering wheel when I brought it up, and an ache in my shoulder from hitting the car door, I was fine. I popped my head up, bringing my hands to his face. “Did I kill you?” I asked. But he didn’t laugh or say anything for a moment. Just breathed. “My heart…” he said. “Shit.” I remembered what he said last week at my house. Do you know what I have to do to get it to beat like that? “I scared you.” “Not an emotion I’m used to being on the receiving end of,” he mused. And then his fingers found the pulse on my neck and pressed down. I followed suit, placing my three fingers on his neck, on the side of his throat, and finding his pulse, as well. We sat there for a moment, each of us with one hand on our own neck and another on the other person’s. It was fast like mine, and I liked that I did that to him.

“What color is your car?” I asked, pulling my hands down from his neck and mine. “Black.” Of course. “When I remember the colors in my head,” I remarked, “I get a feeling sometimes. Pink is how I feel now. My stomach doing somersaults and laughing. Giddy. Squirrelly…” I slid off him and into the passenger side seat. “I don’t know what I feel when I picture black, though. Nothing, really, I guess.” “Th...

Turning my face toward the window, I zoned out, thinking about everything that had happened the past hour. Dancing for him, touching him, the way he was patient with me but also pushed me, to see what I was made of. And how I wasn’t entirely sure if it was for my benefit or for his pleasure.

His body moved next to me, shifting gears and putting pedal to the metal, but every once in a while, I felt his eyes on me. My heartbeat started to pick up pace, and I was glad I couldn’t see him with my eyes. Glad I would never be able to see him. He would be the picture he was in my head. A faceless boy with dark hair and fire in his eyes, just how I wanted it. Forever.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking my hand. “Where?” I climbed out, following him. “To see black.” See black? I loved his imagination.

My heart leapt into my throat, and I felt like I was on a ride I couldn’t control and didn’t have time to think, and even if I could, I couldn’t stop what was happening. My body rushed with heat and energy, terror swelled in my throat, and I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to laugh, puke, or scream. He sped around a bend, we leaned, and I could almost feel the ground an inch under my leg. I couldn’t stop myself. “I’m gonna fall!” I cried out. “Stop, please!” And he did. He slowed and halted, and as if by magic, everything was quiet again. I didn’t let him go. “This is black,” he said. “Fear, falling, release. Excitement, risk, danger.”

I sat there, hugging him and trying to figure out if I liked it or not. It scared me just like he did when he broke into the house last week. I hated that, but… I didn’t really hate it anymore. Probably because I wasn’t as scared of him anymore. It was fear in a controlled environment. The motorcycle wasn’t. Or maybe I just needed to try it again. “I won’t let you go ag—” He stopped and evened out his voice. “I won’t let you go,” he said. “Hold on.” I inhaled a shaky breath and readied myself for another go. And when the bike shot off again, I lifted my head, making myself not hide from it. He won’t let me go. He won’t let me go.

I wanted to go all night now, because for the first time in forever, I was seeing things again. And just because I’d lost my sight didn’t mean that I needed to fear getting lost. Just maybe, it was exactly what I’d been dying for.

The rumble of the motor shook my tummy, and I smiled, hoping for a thousand more nights like this. He slowed to a stop and put his feet down on the ground. “Fear, falling, release,” he said again. “Excitement, risk, danger.” “And at any moment, death,” I mused, still with my smile toward the sky. “Freedom,” he added.

I laid my head on his back again, and he put the stand down and took out the key. “We’re done,” he told me, sounding a little amused when I wouldn’t let him go. “I’m cold.” I nuzzled closer. He chuckled under his breath, and the smell of Sticks pizza wafted through my nostrils again. “Can you show me red?” I asked. I didn’t want the night to end. He paused for a moment and then whispered over his shoulder. “Someday.” “...

Pods of people loitered around the art museum, dressed in their best and here to wish Michael and his little monster a happy little life.

“Speaking of which…” I gestured to Erika on the dance floor. “Have you noticed the paws someone’s putting all over yours?” “She is none of your concern.” “Do something about it, or I’ll make it my concern.” Why did I even care? I didn’t know. I spent a lot of time resenting Rika and her influence over the guys that I didn’t really realize…she belonged. Maybe I kind of liked her.

“Well, this should be entertaining,” Arion mumbled with a smirk. I didn’t know if I agreed. Winter would dance. For me. I didn’t like they’d gone behind my back to arrange this with her.

“Oh, Winter, this is Alex, by the way,” Will said and then eyed me. “My new best friend.” My lips twitched with a smile. Touché.

“Fucking piece of shit,” Will said, turning to Alex. “Let’s go.” I laughed, watching him walk away and thinking his little escort was following. Instead, Alex shook her head and sauntered over to stand at my side. She crossed her arms, observing the party with me. “It is an art how quickly you can make everyone want to kill you.” I shrugged, hearing the smile in her voice. “I just can’t help myself.” I took another drink, kind of wanting to kill myself for a second, too. The shit that came out of my mouth. All for Winter’s sake, because she was my sole motivation in everything I did, and I was kind of fucking ashamed she had that power.

I didn’t have to explain myself to Alex, though. She knew what I was doing. I respected her, because she was no nonsense and made no excuse to do what she needed to do to get what she wanted. The world respected people who didn’t crave approval.

“I have a special gift for Michael and Erika,” she said, and I moved a few steps to the right to get a view of her standing in the middle of the dance floor. “Something I hope they’ll find entertaining. But…” she smiled, looking beautiful with her hair piled on top her head. “I hope the lovely couple doesn’t mind—I’m dedicating this to my sister’s new husband.” What? And then she moved her head around the room. “Damon?” she called out, making everyone turn their heads in my direction. “I worked very hard,” she told me. “I hope you like it. You know how much I love Christmas.”

My eyes didn’t leave her as I took a step closer and placed my glass on a tray as the server passed. She wouldn’t dance for me. Not willingly anyway. Finding her mark already placed on the dance floor, she settled into a traditional pose, one foot turned out, the other laying behind her, and her arms positioned down, forming a circle. She never started like that. She always came in already moving, natural and unsophisticated. That was how she danced. Uncivilized. It was what I loved.

But then the lyrics started, a deep and raw voice coming out of the sound system, and she popped up on her toes, stepping one foot in front of the other, her body all of a sudden coming to life and slinking from one move to the other. And that’s when the song registered. You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch. But it was a cover—some bluesy, rock variation—sexy, slow, and taunting.

the song choice was not lost on me at all. You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch. A Christmas song, indeed. And dedicated to me with its nasty lyrics meant to describe me, too. Clever.

“Did you mess with her?” I demanded. When he didn’t answer, I shot in, whispering against Winter’s lips. “If he touched you, I’ll know,” I told her. “Your skin will be red and flushed. Your lips will be swollen. His stink will be all over you.” She panted against me, and for a moment, I was reminded of our times together back in the day. When I whispered to hide my voice, but she was mine and I was hers, and she was in my lap, driving my car. Did she ever think about that?

“Are you sure you hate me?” I asked in a low voice. And I slipped a hand between her legs, swiping my fingers over the fabric of her leotard, and feeling what I knew would be there. She was seeping through. She was wet. I brought my fingers up. “If he didn’t touch you, then is this for me?” She slammed me in the chest, and I stumbled back, letting her out. “You’re a monster. You’re no better than him,” she growled. “You played with me. You took advantage of me not being able to see, just like he did, and got exactly what you wanted. You abused me.” “Yeah.” I nodded, getting back up in her face. “Yeah, I did. I got you any way I could. I…” I stopped, finding myself losing control. I couldn’t say too much.

“You wanted to be powerful,” she said. “You wanted to win. You wanted revenge on my family and to cause pain, and you did. You humiliated me. You wanted to humiliate me. You wanted what you wanted, and you didn’t care about me!” I stared at her, knowing I would never explain myself. She thought she knew everything. She thought it was black and white. She thought I’d wanted to hurt her. She thought I’d meant for people to see that video. She thought I wanted to trick her. The only motive I had was to be around her, and if I had to lie to get it… I wasn’t taking responsibility for everything. She liked it. “I think I love you,” I said, repeating her words to me all those years ago. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. I want you to be my first. It’s okay. Touch me.” I stepped up to her, invading her space and throwing all of her shame back at her. “You’ll be the first to kiss me here.” I flicked her ear. “And here.” I touched her neck. “And here.” I brushed her nipple with my thumb. “I want to feel your body on mine. Am I okay? Am I doing it right? It feels good. Don’t stop. Oh, God. Oh, God. Don’t walk away. Please, I want this. You don’t have to protect me. You want it, too. I’m okay. I want it. I want to feel you so bad.” I threaded my hand through the back of her hair and fisted it, holding her still. “And then you spread those pretty legs for me.” “I thought you were someone else!” “I was,” I challenged. “I was someone you kinda liked.” She shook her head, more denying herse...

“And she thinks she can do me better and erase you from my memory,” I said. “I don’t care.” Her expression was flat, and her voice was mechanical. I nodded, ignoring the needles in my throat. “Good,” I said, feeling her breath on my mouth. “Because when you hear us tonight, I want you to know it’s because I don’t care, either. There’s nothing of you for her to erase.” I gripped the back of her head again, pressing her forehead into mine. “And in your bed tonight, when it’s late and dark, and the rest of the house is quiet, except for my wife’s moans down the hall and you’re pissed and angry, because you think you hate me, but you slip a hand under the covers anyway, because no one will be the wiser if you indulge yourself in the memory of me, I just want you to also know…” I lowered my voice to a whisper, “that’s what red feels like. Anger and fury and heat and need so strong you’re a fucking animal, Winter. It’s primal.” A tear spilled out of the corner of her eyes, and I could feel her fucking heart pounding in her chest. I released her, pushing her away and backing up toward my bedroom. “I’ll fuck her and make you come, too.”

That wasn’t the last time I’d talk to him, right? I mean, that was no way to say goodbye. I dreamt of him last night and woke up concocting a hot little fantasy in my head of him finding me years down the road and doing passionate things to me. I ached when I remembered I didn’t want to wait that long to be with him again, though. If ever. The only bright side I could find in possibly never feeling him again was that your first love was a learning experience. Or so my mom said. They’re not the ones you marry, she told me. They’re the ones who break you, so you can rebuild yourself better. Stronger. But I didn’t care. I wanted him to come back. I wanted him to hurt me. Just as long as he came back.

“What are they like?” I asked, breaking the silence and trying to change the subject. “The horsemen? Besides Damon, I mean?” I already had an idea of the tool he’d turned into. I couldn’t believe I’d suspected him to be my ghost. My guy was out of this world. And he didn’t smoke, thank goodness. “Well, Kai’s the nicest,” Rika’s friend, Claudia, said. “He’s bad in all the right places, though,” someone else teased. “He and Damon look a lot alike,” Claudia continued. “Both dark hair and eyes, but Kai’s more…manicured, I guess you could say. Damon always looks like he just shifted back to his human form after being a wolf all night.” She laughed. “His hair and clothes are never in order…” “And Will?” I asked, trying to get the focus off Damon. “Will’s nice, too,” Rika chimed in, “but he’s not as sincere as Kai is, I think. He’s good-looking and even better for a laugh. He treats girls better than Damon or Michael do, but…I don’t know.” She trailed off, pensive. “He’s never serious. I don’t think he’s ever had a serious girlfriend like Kai has, has he?” “Maybe his heart already belongs to someone he can’t have,” Claudia said. “Aw.” “Yeah, like Damon,” Noah chuckled. “They’re very close. Like really close, I hear. He keeps Will on a leash. Figuratively speaking.”

“And Michael?” I pressed. “Michael.” “Michael.” “Michael.” They all sounded off around the table, and I heard Rika heave a sigh to my left. “Rika knows all about him,” Noah teased. “Shut up, you guys,” Rika scolded, sounding embarrassed. After a moment, she spoke up, answering my question. “He’s kind of the leader,” she explained. “Probably on his way to the pros eventually. Light brown hair, golden skin, hazel eyes. Polar opposite of Will. He’s very serious.” “Hazel eyes. Bedroom eyes,” Claudia taunted. “Rika’s slept in his bed. Did she tell you that?” Slept in his bed? He had to be eighteen. Or almost anyway. “I was thirteen,” she explained, “and he put me there. It’s not like he slept there, too. I told you guys that.” And then she spoke to me. “I grew up around him...

All of a sudden, music poured out of the speakers and commotion went off around us. People laughed and hooted, and I trained my ears, trying to figure out what was happening. Was that seriously a Bobby Brown song? “Oh, my God,” someone said and laughed. “What?” I asked. “What’s going on?” “Will Grayson is dancing,” Rika answered, sounding like she was embarrassed for him. “Oh, my God, he’s on a table.” Everyone in our area broke into laughter, and whatever he was doing must’ve been entertaining. “My Prerogative” blared, and I couldn’t help but smile and bob my head a little bit. It was a fun choice of music. I’d probably like Will. “Such a lover, not a fighter,” someone said. “He’s so hot,” Claudia adde...

Although, I wondered what my ghost would do if someone liked me. Would he care? Would he know? He could be in the room right now? Hell, he could be Noah. But I got rid of that notion. I’d held Noah’s arm on the way to Music Appreciation. It wasn’t like his body. Not as tall, not as strong. My insides didn’t do pirouettes when I touched him.

I wanted to feel him again. I felt him again. Like I was in his lap, driving. Or huddled behind him, warm but freezing in the night air on the motorcycle. Or wrapped tightly in his arms, hidden in a closet, a world within a world. I wished he was close. I wished he was watching me. Always watching me. I tucked my hair behind my ear, turning my head toward the direction where I would imagine he was, and reveled in the feeling of his eyes being on me.

We picked up our bags, tossed out our lunches, and headed for the doors. But as we went, I smiled to myself, the feeling of him still in my head and his eyes watching me, following me and never leaving me as I exited the cafeteria.

My parents—and Arion—had really done a number on me. While it was the psycho-stalker-sicko who made me smile and gave me confidence. Go figure. Life was weird.

I opened my mouth to speak, but his hand came up, tucking my hair behind my ear. There was no way I’d be the victim of two weird guys in such a short time. I cocked my head. “Is that you?” I demanded. My ghost who liked to scare me? I lost my patience. “So help me God, I’m going to—” He slipped his arms underneath mine, wrapping them around me, and picked me up off my feet. “Going to what?” he asked. And I stopped breathing. It wasn’t the whisper I was used to hearing but the deep, loaded, and menacing tone I never wanted to be alone with again. Ever. I gulped, feeling Damon’s arms tighten around me. “You’re not him.” “Him who?” “L—Let me go,” I stammered but didn’t have time to scream.

“You know, a lot of girls would love to be in your position right now,” he told me. “Yeah, I’m guessing you didn’t almost kill them once upon a time.” “Do you want me to apologize?” I hesitated, because his tone actually gave the impression he would apologize if I asked him to. “No,” I finally answered. “Why?” “Because I won’t forgive you anyway,” I said. No need to waste your time. He held me, his chest moving with mine, and I could feel his eyes on my face. He didn’t speak for several seconds. When he did, it sounded almost sad. “Winter…” But whatever he wanted to say, he didn’t finish, and I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to spend another six years recovering from anything he did to me. Another scratch, and I’d kill him to make sure he never touched me again.

“Aren’t you worried I’ll hurt you?” he asked, his tone threatening again. I replied calmly. “No.” “Why?” “Because black.” “Black?” he pressed. I inched in, getting in his face. “Because I’m in the black right now, and here… I think I enjoy myself,” I said, remembering last night and the freedom of risking and fighting and meeting your match. I wanted that life. “The only part of me anyone can ever hurt is my heart, and there’s no one on the planet my heart is more out of reach from than you,” I growled. He jostled me in his arms, and I could hear him breathing through his teeth. “Big words for such a little girl,” he said. “Same old, same old, from the same, scared little boy,” I shot back. “Still climbing into fountains to hide from Mommy?” “Mommy?” he repeated. “I killed that bitch last night.”

“Let me go,” I told him. “Let me go or I’ll bite.” “Exactly what I had in mind.” What? Why would he want me to bite him? “Let me go,” I said. He didn’t budge. “Let. Me. Go.” Nothing. Diving in, I sank my teeth into his jaw, hearing him let out a chuckle, and bit down harder to shut him the hell up. Asshole. I couldn’t reach much, given my position, otherwise I’d go for his ear and tear it off, but I clamped down on his bone, my teeth digging into the skin. Harder. I increased the pressure. Harder. He froze, just standing there, and when his breathing became raspy, I knew he was about to tap out and let me go. It had to hurt. But instead of freeing me, he stuttered, “Har—Harder.” Rage twisted my face, and I bit down as hard as I could, my teeth aching in my jaw, and I heard him pant and gasp, and then his arms fell, and I was free. I fell to the ground and pushed him away, knocking him in the nose. He grunted and stumbled, because I heard the shuffle of buckets and brooms. “Next time, I’ll be armed. And I’ll kill you,” I told him. I began to walk away, and I heard his voice behind me. “You might have to.” I stopped for a second, feeling defeated. Why? Why would I have to? Would he not stop? What did he want?

“Would you have forgiven me…” he asked, “if I’d gone over the side of the treehouse with you that day?” I stood there, tears burning the backs of my eyes. I didn’t know how to answer. I searched my brain. Why did that question strike me like it did? It seemed almost vulnerable. It was the first moment since I’d started school here that he hadn’t acted like an asshole. Would I have forgiven him if he’d been hurt, too? I could’ve died that day. I could’ve been hurt a lot worse than I was now. My neck could’ve broke. I could’ve wound up in a coma for the rest of my life. And he could’ve gone over with me and been hurt and killed, too. What would be my thoughts about him now if that had happened? Would I be more forgiving? Maybe. I thought about it. Yes. I would’ve said ‘kids are kids’ and ‘bad things happen’. Children weren’t mature enough to control themselves. I would’ve tried to understand. But even if I didn’t hate what he’d done to me all those years ago, I still hated him because of who he was now. Boys grew up. He hadn’t.

life here would be intolerable if Damon backed me into a corner and I had to fight back. No one would be on my side. I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. “Don’t bother, Mr. Kincaid,” I muttered. “I’m leaving the school.” “The fuck you are,” Damon growled. And then to Mr. Kincaid, “It was just a disagreement. I’ll leave her alone. You have my word.” “Your word…” he mocked. “I don’t lie,” Damon said, anger hardening his voice. “She’ll be fine. I swear. I won’t even look at her for the rest of the year, as long as I’m at this school and under your care. I promise.” He evened out his tone. “The basketball team goes on, she can stay, and we’ll pretend this never happened. Her father doesn’t have to know.” And then to me, “Right?” I hardened my jaw, standing there and not giving him an ounce of my attention. Was he telling the truth? Could he stay out of my way? Because I was desperate to stay. “I will leave her alone,” Damon reiterated again when the dean remained silent.

I felt him next to me, his warm breath just above my ear. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, Winter Ashby, because we’re not done,” Damon warned in a low voice that snaked through my ear, taunting me. “Grow up, learn things, and have fun in high school, but don’t change the little girl who loves it ‘in the black’, because I like you there, too. And I will be back for what’s mine when you’re old enough for bigger things.” I turned my face away, breathing harder. “And be good,” he told me. “If I hear anyone touched you, I will crack his fucking skull.”

I walked out of the main office, turning right as Damon went left, I wondered how long I had and how many notches up he would take his behavior when we met again. Because it wasn’t over. He was just waiting.

I hated him. I hated his vile words and his cigarettes and his arrogance and insanity in thinking he wasn’t responsible for anything. I hated how he grabbed and threatened and wouldn’t let me go. He had no right. And I hated that I’d missed him. I hated that so fucking much. How I still felt the parts about him I loved when I didn’t know it was him I was with. How his arms around me still felt protective and how his whispers reminded me of when I loved the feel of them all over my neck.

The bed creaked, moans and breathing followed, and I shook my head, wishing I was deaf instead. They were fighting. While they were having sex. It was weird.