Page 43 of Pretty Threats

“You think you hate me?” There’s a note of surprise in his voice.

“We stabbed each other.”

“We nicked each other.”

“I stabbed you. An inch of that blade went in. I hit your bone.”

The corner of his mouth curves. “Yeah, you did. Gave me quite a jolt.”

“I’m surprised you don’t hate me back. You warned me not to go. I ignored your warning. Isn’t a part of you angry with me?”

He shakes his head. “I came to make trouble, and you reciprocated. Anyone else, I would’ve killed for what you did. But the number of cuts I’d forgive you for is… any. Any number.”

Any. And deep down, I know he means it. Which is why, deep down, a part of me wants to forgive him, too.

Leaning close, Killian whispers, “I wish I’d fucked you that night while we were still bleeding.”

My jaw drops, and I look over my shoulder at him again, appalled even as another shudder rocks my body. “There was nothing sexy about that night. You would have had to force me.”

The gleam in his eyes is enough to make my breath catch. “No.”

I don’t know if he means he’d never force me or that he thinks he’d never have to force me. I’m about to ask when we’re interrupted.

Because I’m distracted by the off-the-charts-crazy conversation I’m having with my deranged stepbrother, when the Lambda House door suddenly opens, I jump. Killian’s hand grips my arm to steady me. Of course, it does. No opening door ever startles him. If the grim reaper ripped open a hellmouth and Killian fell in, he’d probably dust himself off and say, “thanks for sending me home.”

A tall blond man in tan trousers and a navy sweater with a GU logo looks us over. The tip of his nose resembles an upturned cube and reminds me of a pig’s snout, except small.

“Can I help you?” His voice is kind of nasal.

“I’m Raine. Raine Risher?” I add when his expression doesn’t change. “I got a message Mr. Malenus wanted me to come?”

“Oh, good,” a voice says from behind him. “That’s one of the film students. Let her in.”

The young man opens the door wider and extends a hand. “I’m Leighton Miller. Lambda Delta Vice President.”

After I shake Leighton’s hand, he backs up. Without anyone’s invitation, Killian steps inside with me.

The large entry leads into an even larger area that’s big enough to host a ball, and at its center is Owen Malenus. He wears jeans and a GU t-shirt under an olive Army surplus coat. With a friendly close-lipped smile on his face, he runs a hand through his sandy brown hair that’s peppered with premature gray. With his other hand, he’s shooting video with his phone and his gaze shifts to our surroundings. Because his attention’s diverted, it allows me to study him for a moment without it becoming awkward. He’s smaller than he appears onscreen when accepting awards. Medium height and thin. It puts me at ease immediately. When he turns, his smile widens, revealing the slightly overlapping front teeth I’ve seen a million times in photos.

“Raine,” he says, walking over and extending a hand. “Great to meet you.”

“Thank you.” I only leave room for the smallest beat of silence before adding, “Your lecture was so good. And your films, amazing. You’re the reason I wanted to come to GU. Your interview in Film Voice about studying here—where you explained how it helped you evolve as a screenwriter.” I take a calming breath. “I knew this was the place I needed to be.”

His grin reappears. “A fan. Off to a good start.” He squeezes my hand and then looks at Killian. “And you? An actor?” He moves to the side to look at Killian’s profile. “No, I would’ve remembered that face from the Theater Studies roster. That’s a million-dollar cleft in your chin.” Mr. Malenus holds out a hand.

Killian shakes it. “Killian. Raine’s boyfriend.”

19

KILLIAN

Raine chokes on her next breath when she hears me introduce myself as her boyfriend. But after inhaling and exhaling her surprise, she doesn’t contradict me.

“Connected to Raine, great,” Malenus says, either unaware or ignoring Raine’s pained expression. “You’ve got the exact look I want, Killian. Any acting experience?”

“None.” Unless you count pretending I’m not a sociopath.

He waves away my lack of experience with a gesture. “Doesn’t matter. I’d still love for you to audition.” Malenus nods, studying me like he’s a botanist who’s discovered a rare plant.

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