Page 108 of The Boy I Loved
Nia was killed too, and she didn’t react so badly. In fact, she fucked Tristan afterwards as if it had never happened. Then again, she never knew Nia.
She didn’t ‘fuck’ Tristan. I reminded myself. She never would have done that willingly. Still, it didn’t sit right with me. There was something more going on between the two of them, even if they both refused to admit it.
“In light of our most recent incidents,” Azrael began, shooting me a pointed look as if he had any power over me. He was an ant, insignificant. “We agreed to give you all a break.”
A few of the girls perked up at that, but everyone else remained unfazed. Maybe I’d taken things a tad bit too far. But Tristan shattered Emerson’s vagina and killed her, so maybe not.
I couldn’t keep worrying about what everyone else thought of me, especially the girls. They were here for one reason and one reason only. It sucked, but that was the way things were.
Training was boring. Tristan didn’t even try to beat me on the score board. Then again, the day wasn’t over. He could still succeed in other ways. Hazel resorted to hiding out in her room again and Mason kept making annoying comments about fucking her.
It wasn’t until later that day, that I was requested by Clay again. This was starting to become a routine at this point. My fingers tapped impatiently along the surface of his desk as I waited for him to get on with it. As usual, his expression gave nothing away. He casually sipped his whiskey while staring down at a stack of papers.
Annoyance flared within me, causing me to grit my teeth in frustration. The urge to snatch his glass from him and smash it over his head was tempting. Maybe then, he’d acknowledge me.
“I’m impressed,” he finally said, laying the papers down on the desk between us. “I have speculation that the reason for your new score has to do with Hazel.” He arched an eyebrow, and the way he said it wasn’t meant as a question. Therefore, I didn’t offer a response. He sighed, leaning back into his seat, which creaked beneath his weight. “You won the challenge,” he continued. “The girl is yours this weekend.”
The relief I felt in that moment was unmatched. It felt like all of the tension in my body rolled from my shoulders, leaving me slumped in the chair. I had no doubt that Tristan could have surpassed me if he wanted to, but I knew better than to question it.
“What you did to the McIntyre girl…” he trailed off, running his thumb over the stubble gracing his jaw in a casual gesture. “It was creative. I want to see more of that.”
Of course he did. He was a sick bastard like that.
That might have been the first time I’d fucked a dead body, and hopefully, it would be the last. At least she had just died, and her body was still quite reactive, even if the rest of her wasn’t.
I grunted in response, not knowing what else to say. I wasn’t about to thank him for letting me spend time with Hazel. She wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for him.
“Is that all?” I finally asked, ready to put as much space between us as possible.
My uncle was like a leech, draining the life-force out of every room he occupied. And to think … I used to look up to this sick bastard. To this day, I didn’t know why my father disliked him so much, but it wasn’t hard to guess. Clay was vile and cruel. He’d even sold his own wife. I wasn’t sure why he lied about her miscarrying Rodney, unless they had another child afterwards, but it didn’t matter.
Clay stared at me for a long moment. “Very well,” he relented with reluctance. “You’re free to go. You may take Hazel to your room on Friday night after dinner. I don’t need to remind you of the rules, do I?”
“No,” I replied, gritting my teeth.
Just because Hazel got to spend the weekend with me, it didn’t mean she was free. She couldn’t roam around, and the other workers couldn’t see her. Which meant that she was still a prisoner, just confined to another room.
I pushed myself to my feet and spun on my heels, not bothering to spare that asshole another glance, or another second of my time. When I reached the elevator, I released a heavy breath and slipped inside, jamming my finger into the button leading to the second floor where the lounge resided. That was where we spent the majority of our time, even when we weren’t on guard duty.
Kent was on the sofa with Adrian sucking his dick again when I approached. His hand was tangled through her hair, guiding her up and down. His eyes were pinched closed, his jaw slack.
Across from him was Azrael and Rodney. Their gazes were locked on Adrian, her bare ass resting on her heels with only a string of red fabric between her cheeks.
Striding over to the bar, I fixed myself a glass of bourbon and made my way toward the guys, sinking into the chair besideRodney. He barely spared me a glance, his attention snagged by Adrian again moments later.
“Congrats on winning the contest,” Azrael said from Rodney’s other side. “Have you given any thought to what girl you’re going to choose?”
This caught Rodney’s attention, and he snorted. “He’s going to pick Hazel.”
He wasn’t wrong, but the way in which he said it grated on my nerves. Despite his condescending remark, anticipation bubbled up inside of me. For once, I had something to look forward to. For an entire weekend, nothing else would matter. Not Tristan, not the compound, not Clay, not keeping her alive, not Stacy’s death, nothing.
Kent’s groan snapped me out of my thoughts, his grip tightening around her hair as his legs trembled. She gagged when he shoved her down farther before she was ready, her nails digging into his thighs. After a few seconds, he was spilling down her throat and releasing her. Adrian fell back on her heels, swiping a hand over her mouth and rose to stand. Kent tucked himself back in his jeans, giving her a look of admiration, his eyes glazed over with desire.
Sad bastard.
If Clay knew how he felt for Adrian, he’d use her against Kent without a doubt. That was what he did with me regarding Hazel.
“Anything else?” she asked him, her voice coming out strained due to the onslaught her throat had just taken.
