Page 32 of Requiem

God, the pressure of his mouth is exhilarating. I’m drawn to him so desperately, and I can’t explain any of it. He is a curse and a plague, and I grow sicker at his hands every day. Ashamed as I am, afraid as I am, I find myself surrendering to the bastard, melting into him as if I’ve been traveling on an exhausting journey for years and I’ve finally found myself home.

My tongue works against his, tasting him, accepting him deeper into my own mouth, and a body-wide shudder runs through Theo. His breath catches somewhere between his lungs and his mouth, a sharp, insistent sound emanating from his throat, and his grip tightens on me. His warmth heats me. His hands steady me. The solidity of his presence anchors me back into a body I’ve felt like I was slipping away from for the longest time.

My head spins as Theo pulls me closer, so that our chests are flush, our stomachs, our hips, our—

Lord have mercy.

Our hips meet and I can feel him. He’s hard against me, his erection straining against the front of his jeans, butting up against me between my legs, applying pressure to an area of my body I hadn’t even realized could ache the way it’s aching right now. What kind of insanityisthis?

How can I need him this way, after everything that he’s done?

The question brings me back to my senses, but also cuts me loose, unmooring me, cutting me adrift, out of my body again. I jerk back, pushing away from him, disgusted at myself for letting things get so far.

Theo’s eyes are wide, his pupils blown out as he looks down at me. His face is flushed in a way that makes my toes curl in my shoes. “Hate me now?” he pants.

“YES!”I scramble back from him, away from the danger he represents. Dirt collects under my fingernails as I claw at the ground, using it to gain purchase and put some distance between us. Once I’m confident that he won’t be able to lunge at me again, I scrub a hand at my mouth, trying to erase the feel of his lips. “Are you damaged in the head?”

The high color in his face dissipates right before my eyes. I watch as the arrogant, cold expression I’m so used to him wearing returns. “I must be if I wanna make out withyou.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I spit. “Kissing someone without their permission is still sexual assault. I should report you to Ford!”

Theo sinks back onto his heels, watching me, the corner of his mouth curving up into a cruel smile. “Really, Voss? Sexual assault?” He laughs quietly. “Didn’t feel like assault when you were sticking your tongue down my throat and moaning into my mouth like a sex-starved kitten. But we’ll call it whatever you like.”

“I didn’t ask you to kiss me!”

“Didn’t tell me not to, either. And when you pulled away, I didn’t stop you. You were free to accept or reject me from the word go.”

“Urgh! You’re such…” I grope for the right words.“You’re suchan ass!”

“All day, every day,” he agrees.

I can’t fucking see straight. Getting to my feet, I sway, figuratively and literally unbalanced by what just took place. I’ve never reacted like that to someone before. It was visceral. Carnal. I’ve never wanted anything the way I wanted him in that moment.

He calls something after me, but my ears are ringing too loudly to hear whatever it is that he says. My heart hammers as I charge back toward the school. My blood boils. My jaw is locked. My hands are shaking, my shoulders tensed.

I’m not angry with Theo. I’m angry with myself.

He was right. I didn’t stop him from kissing me.

I wanted it.

I wantedhim.

It took every ounce of will power I possessed to tear myself away.

10

SORRELL

He’sthere when I eat breakfast. When I go to class. When I train exhaustively in Toussaint’s brand-new gym, after every single torturous evening, stuck in the auditorium, watching student after student perform recitals, and sing, and dance, and read their stupid fucking poetry. He’s there when I have dinner, and when I hang out in the library with Noelani. Worst of all, he’s there when I close my eyes every night, running through my mind. When I fall asleep, I can’t even escape him in my dreams. Night after night, I wake up drenched in sweat, unable to remember what’s taken place in my sleep, but knowing on a very deep level that Theo Merchant has been hounding my every step there, too. I can still smell the scent of him. Feel his hands on my skin. Feel the press of his mouth on mine. More than once, I’ve sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding, slick and wet between my legs, knowing that I’ve justcome, for fuck’s sake, and with no recollection of how it happened.

I hate him with every fiber of my being.

A month passes, and I hear nothing from Ruth. Three times, I try to make an escape from Toussaint, determined to flee this hellhole and make it back to Los Angeles, but every time my plans are thwarted, either by Principal Ford herself, or by the simple fact that we’re in the middle of nowhere and I have no means of getting back to civilization. The school is still on lockdown.

Once a week, Jeremy arrives in the Super Cub, carrying perishables and other supplies for the school, but Principal Ford is always there to greet him, along with at least two other members of staff. I’ve tried to puzzle out a way to sneak into the back of that damned sea plane until I’ve given myself a migraine, but I’m yet to discover a way to accomplish that goal without being discovered.

I lie in bed at night, cursing the day I ever agreed to come here and do this. It seemed like the only way to obtain justice, but now I’m not so sure. Wouldn’t it make more sense to report Theo to the cops? He was cleared of any wrongdoing after the accident, but surely they’d take another look at his involvement if I gave them a statement. A new statement. Since I have no real recollection of that night, it would have to be afabricatedstatement, of course, but wouldn’t lying to the police be better than being stuck here, seeing the motherfucker every day, having to face the idea that he’s right there, within reach, and per Ruth’s edict, I can’t touch him?

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