Page 16 of The Claiming

As we move away, he whispers, “Fuck. That girl won’t get the message.”

“Why, what happened?”

We head to our next class and he groans. “I mean, she’s a lovely girl, but forgettable. We fucked a few times, and it wasn’t memorable, so I moved on. The trouble is, she won’t back down. Notes in my locker, texts to my phone and waiting for me after class. I can do without this shit.”

“Perhaps you need to attend The Claiming after all. She’d get the message then.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I can put up with her shit. I’m not interested in chaining myself to one woman just to keep another away. I’m a big boy. I’ll deal with it.”

I immediately forget about Georgia. She is no different from any of the others who think they have a shot at becoming our girl. I may be big headed, but it’s true. Pussy comes easily at Rockwell and not just from the students.

My father told me a story when he and my uncle Angelo fucked their teacher in the supply cupboard. I’m interested in adding that experience to my Rockwell memories and Miss Sloane is the likeliest to oblige.

She is our art teacher and fresh out of teacher college and I don’t miss the subtle ways she grips my attention. The way she rests her hand on the back of my neck, her fingers brushing against the skin. The way she bends her lips to whisper against my ear and her tits rub against my arm. She is one eager invitation waiting to be accepted and part of me wonders if I should fast forward the inevitable to shake a certain new student’s image from my mind.

NINE

CASSIE

All anyone can talk about is The Claiming challenge. It spread through campus like wildfire and it appears that every girl has signed up for it. I wonder if the list is as long for the guys because from what I’ve been told, they enjoy a free for all here which kind of disgusts me.

I’m used to men and women getting it on. Despite the fact I’m kept away from the bar at home, I hear the bikers and the whores talking. Whores is a harsh description for the women who live at the compound. They prefer the term because it gets them free access to any guy of their choice. It’s no different here, but to label any of these girls the same would be incredibly rude.

The fact so many have signed up for The Claiming challenge tells me they’re really only searching for that special guy. The whores at home are not. They don’t want commitment. They are mainly just passing through. If they do want more, the biker who falls for her makes her his old lady and they set up home in the grounds. I know how it works and I’m also aware my father doesn’t want that life for me.

It’s why I’m here. To study. To graduate and head off to a city firm to study as an attorney. A respectable job for a respectable lady. At least that’s what my father thinks.

I envy Jack. He is heading to the military academy and is guaranteed a job. My father was once high up in the military and has many contacts. Jack’s future career is set, and when he’s proved himself, he is intent on becoming a Twisted Reaper. It was inevitable because his father is one. Mine, however, would allow me to follow Jack’s career path over his dead body and yet I want to—more than anything. Women don’t ride as Reapers. Lexi was the only one I can remember until she met and married her Wall Street billionaire.

She was considered the best and earned the respect of all the guys, my father included. I want to be Lexi more than anything, and so the idea of The Claiming ceremony churns my stomach. It’s archaic, domineering and limits our freedom. I hate every aspect of it, and yet there is one distinct advantage. The guy with the secretive eyes and smoldering personality. I already accept I’m screwed just thinking about him and, more than anything, I need Jack here to tell me what a fool I am for even considering it.

* * *

Seven days have passedin a flash and I am lounging beside Siri on the grass outside the main building when a familiar face appears on the horizon.

“Oh my God!”

“What’s up?” Siri is confused as I jump up and run at speed toward the most important guy in the world to me, outside of my father.

“Jack!”

He grins, his usual cheeky lopsided one and opens his arms, and as I jump into them, they close around me, the familiarity bringing a strange tear to my eye.

“I missed you, baby.” He whispers, as he nuzzles his face against my hair and I fight back the sob that threatens to reveal how emotional this reunion is making me.

“I’ve missed you too.”

He lowers me to the ground and as I search his face, I note the grief shrouding his eyes and I whisper, “I’m so sorry, Jack. Was it terrible?”

“Kind of.” He shrugs, a fleeting moment of grief in his expression before his smile chases it away.

“So–” He glances around him. “This is Rockwell Academy.”

“It is.” I grasp his hand and pull him after me toward Siri.

“Come and meet my roomie. You’ll love her.”

Siri is watching with interest as we approach and laughs at my obvious delight in being reunited with my best friend.

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