Page 21 of Love Me

Her face radiates hope, and she says, “I’ll leave you to unpack. Welcome home.”

A deep sigh rumbles out of my throat at that word. When she closes the door, I wrap my arms around myself and sigh. “I don’t have a home. I never have.”

My phone pings with a message from Mia.

We’re on our way.

Pulling myself together, I return to the car and get the rest of my stuff. I put my clothes in the dressing room, along with that damn box I carry with me like dead weight. No, like a reminder of my stupidity.

I throw it in the furthest corner, then sweep the room for listening devices but don’t find any. I am not used to doing nothing. Every day was full of lessons. No wonder I had no time for feelings, for unwanted thoughts.

Needing to occupy myself, I tour the college house. I discover an indoor pool, a gym, and a theater room, all in the basement.

Good, that will keep me occupied when I can’t sleep. The first floor is open concept. The kitchen and living room have a perfect view of Eagleton College. The crest of the Family, an eagle with spread wings, holding in its claws a globe, is stamped on the main building entrance door. The founding families named the college after the symbol of freedom. Which is pretty ironic considering we’re in chains. Our house has the best view. All other houses are farther away, behind the college walls.

“Not forgetting our legacy.” A deep voice takes me from my wanderings.

I turn and see Blake. His hair is styled back, reaching his neck, and his eyes are two cold emeralds. There’s a tic in his jaw. “I never envied anyone, but I’m so disappointed in you. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“What happened to you?”

“What happened to everyone after you left? I wish someone would have loved me like that.”

I open my mouth to ask what he is talking about, but he turns, heading up the stairs. The slamming of his door bounces off the walls.

In the kitchen, I prepare myself a ham sandwich when I feel him––my intake of air filling with his presence. I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to eat.

I am not used to this silence between us.

“Stalking me?” I ask.

“This is my place.”

“Right.”

I turn to him, hating myself and him for needing contact. Did you forget about me, you cold-blooded asshole? Was I nothing to you?

Losing the fight with my emotions, I throw the sandwich at his face. He blinks at me while wiping the mayo running down his chin.

“You threw food at me?”

“Next time, it will be something else.”

With my appetite gone, I sidestep him, but he backs me into the fridge, leaning in. My body buzzes at his nearness. He smears the mayo on my face, showing me how everything I do to him, he will turn on me––dangerous, but so damn exhilarating.

He licks my cheek, and my heart trips over a few beats. No. No. No. I refuse to let him affect me. I shove him off me, wiping at the corners of my mouth.

“Animal.”

His perfectly shaped mouth lowers to my ear. Every inch of me is hyper aware of him. My breath hitches. Goose bumps erupt on my skin. His nearness intoxicates my senses.

“Don’t provoke me unless you want to face the consequences.” That sounds ominous, yet thrilling.

With that, he pushes off me, and I look at him, ready to challenge him.

He licks the finger he painted me with, owning my attention and making heat stir low in my belly. Swallowing hard, I glare at him. His ability to still affect any part of me is truly disconcerting.

“Enjoy the taste. You’re never getting the real one.”

---