Page 25 of Tell Me Why
Ugh, this guy is infuriating. He doesn’t see anything wrong with just randomly drugging me, which is Exhibit A of how fucked up this place truly is. My brother was right, these guys just do whatever the hell they want, regardless of who might get hurt.
I’m fuming now, and I wish I could see his face, but he’s still cloaked in darkness. “Why do you care so much if I’m well-rested?” I ask, just barely keeping the reins on my anger.
“The hunt, obviously. A well-rested fox makes it more challenging.”
I want to launch myself at him so fucking badly… “You never told me what happens at a hunt. Tell me now, or I swear to God, I’ll?—”
“You’llwhat?” His sharp question cuts through my anger. “You’ll leave? I think you know what the consequence of that would be…”
There it is—the threat that hangs over my head like a guillotine, informing every decision I make. The last couple of weeks have been hellish, but for a few brief, fleeting moments, when I’m studying or walking across campus, I’m just another college student. Then reality snaps back at me like a rubber band, reminding me that my brother’s life hangs by a thread that I’m desperately trying not to break.
“You know what, never mind,” I say, hugging the pillow. No one wants to tell me what this event is, and I should probably take that as a sign from the universe that I don’t want to know. “I’ll find out soon, anyway, right? I might as well enjoy the last few minutes of ignorance.”
His shadow moves as he walks over to the nightstand and switches the lamp on. One side of his face is bathed in light, the other side hidden in shadow, making the angles on his face look even more severe. “Consider it a welcoming party.”
Awelcomingparty. I laugh at that. He makes it sound so pleasant, like there’ll be cookies and balloons. I know better than that. I know whatever a Fox Hunt is, it can’t be good. I just want to prepare myself for whatever’s coming.
I swallow. “What’s going to happen?”
He’s wearing a black T-shirt that hugs his muscular torso, and when he leans forward to place his palms on the mattress, his biceps strain against the material, threatening to pop the seams.
Good God.
Why do all the evil guys have to be so fucking hot? If the guy is attractive, he’s a monster. Universally. No exceptions. I’ve grown up around pretty fuckboys, so I know something about how evil they can be.
Christian pushes forward, and I jerk back, but with the headboard directly behind me, I have nowhere to go.
Shit. Okay.
His clean, pine scent clouds my senses, his proximity scrambling my brain. The best I can do is swat at him, but that does absolutely nothing. The mattress dips as he prowls forward. Light catches his wavy blond hair and casts a halo around that freakishly beautiful face.
My God.
My heart is beating so fast, I’m starting to feel dizzy, air settling in my lungs like cement. It’s hard to pull in a breath.
Fuck Christian for this. Fuck him for making me feel this way. And the worst part? I know this is exactly what he wants—me, trapped, afraid,weak—and Ihatethat I’m giving him that.
“What’s wrong, Little Fox?” His breath is warm on my face. “You aren’t afraid of the big bad wolf, are you?”
What’s his obsession withLittle Red Riding Hood? He calls me “Little Fox” mockingly, and maybe that’s all it is—just another way to point out how weak I am.
Well, for the millionth time…fuck him.
I don’t answer his question. Instead, I twist my head to the side and close my eyes. I’m trying to flatten myself against the headboard as much as possible, but there’s only so far I can retreat.
He chuckles, the sound deep and rich. His fingers touch my face—gently—and it’s so at odds with his sinister vibe that I open my eyes. He’s looking at me, his gaze brushing over every detail of my face. I blink, confused.
What the hell is happening?
For some weird reason, this tenderness is more frightening than his mockery or anger. I can deal with anger. But this… it has to be another one of his games. A manipulation.
“I made a mistake coming here,” I whisper. “I’m starting to think I can’t do this.”
Especially if he’s going to dedicate every waking moment to tormenting me. It’s clear he’s trying to intimidate me into calling this whole thing off. So what if I do? I’ll be honest, Sara’s warning makes me wonder if there’s any point in my staying, anyway. These guys are going to eat me alive long before my three months are up.
Christian slides the tip of his finger down my jaw, to the underside of my chin, and tilts it up. “Oh, baby, it’s far too late for that now. You’ve already given yourself to us. Consent, remember?”
My stomach tightens. “Maybe I want to rescind my consent.”
