Page 15 of Hunted Heir

I glance down to put my phone back in my pocket, accidentally shoulder clipping someone that’s walking past.

“What the fuck man?” A huge football player in his jersey, most likely a wide receiver, screams in my face. I move closer to him standing to my full height. It never lets me down as it makeshim move back just an inch, before the poison that’s coursing through his veins gives him the stamina to face anything.

He starts to move toward me to get more in my face. My eyebrows crease as my arm snaps out in disgust. I’m not playing this fucking game. I don’t got time for the shit, especially with a college hoser.

My fist curls as I pop the fucker in the throat, not enough to do any damage, just to put him down for now, backing the fuck off. I’m here to work, not play this fucking college game of whose dick is bigger.

Mine is, of course, if I whipped that bitch out right now and measured. This guy has a tiny little pussy dick.

Yeah, the only thing I missed by not going to college is moving up to the next stage in my life that only a degree could get.

A girl notices the football player on the ground and screams. I nod my head as hers goes pale and she hobbles away. She’s wearing a silk tank top with no fucking bra. I’m mesmerized as I watch her tits bounce when she awkwardly starts running out of the door, taking the stairs, quickly maneuvering away. Damn, maybe Remy has the right idea.

I continue farther into the party, deeper into the fifth floor hallway. I don’t find what I’m looking for as I turn back. Doors are open to rooms where you can watch several students fucking. Several guys, of course, are gathered outside hooting and hollering their guy on.

Interesting, I think as I stop and observe. The guy fucking is drunk, pumping wildly with no rhythm at all. The only thing that girl is gonna get out of this is a sore pussy.

I spot a well-manicured red head with daggers for nails, who artfully and tastefully slides, with just enough pressure, over the head of my dick. I grab her hand watching her flinch. She feelsthe pressure circled around her wrist and I shake my head no. “Too bad,” she states on a pout as I continue on my way.

You can’t walk the length of this floor without inhaling something totally illegal. I watch somebody snort something off the naked tits of a very flat-chested college girl a few doors back. At least I haven’t seen any needles here.

A group of guys are huddled in the corner by the stairs. They’re jocks, loaded on whatever poison of their choice.

“Get it C-chaz!” Some very drunk college dude stumbles over his words.

“Fucking hit me.” The guy that must be Chaz yells out as the other man punches him in the arm. They both start punching each other back and forth in the same spot on the arm, seeing who could do the most damage. Chaz loses, his shit is black and blue, from his elbow up to his shoulder blade. Several of the guys are standing around with damaged arms. One guy looks nauseous holding his, I don’t think he has a high tolerance for pain.

“Whoa,” I barely bounce out of the way as a naked girl with beautiful tits bobbing, runs by. A few more follow her, being chased by horny college guys with tented shorts. I snicker as the last one that goes by, his tent was a lot smaller than the other ones.

Glass and bottles are broken, covering the tiled floors. Girls are dressed and undressed running and screaming, some are barefoot. It’s not just the bottles that are broken, there’s pictures down with shattered glass. I shake my head, seriously doubting they’ll ever be able to have a party in here again.

“Holy fucking shit, man.” I tense, before I realize it’s Remy, as he comes and stands right next to me.

I nod, we’re both amusingly annoyed by this whole experience. Neither one of us had the privilege of ever going to college, we’ve never had the dorm party life. Any of the shit.

We have been on the run together since we were fifteen. The college life would now be a total waste of our time. There is no way in hell I’d be able to make more than I already do. Besides, you can’t live the hard life that we have, then just tone it down and expect this to become the new normal for us.

That would never work, we’ll never fit in where we’re going, we never mold right, anywhere. One day, hopefully, we’ll both find what we consider to be home. For now, we have everything we could ever want or need.

Chapter

Nine

Taylor

“You should be okay now.” Pierce leans down next to the six foot plant that I’ve been hiding behind. It’s in the corner and very close to my dorm room. Safer out here because I’m hidden behind all these other students and this humongous plant, nobody will ever be able to find me.

The drunk and very out of it students start to hobble and drunkenly walk toward their dorm rooms, the ones on this floor anyway. The others that still have a little bit of life left to them decide to head up to the sixth floor and continue the party till dawn.

“At least I’m not on the sixth floor,” Pierce reluctantly chuckles then flips me off as he walks away. I laugh because that’s where his dorm room is, on the sixth floor. Him and Chance are lucky, they were able to share a room without a bunch of shit to go through.

I snagged the bottle of whiskey I had in my hand, sipping periodically for the past thirty minutes. I know I should be scared. I should be nervous and slightly worried. I’m not exactly sure what I just saw. In my muddled memory, someone was hurt and most likely killed.

I get an ominous chill as I head back to my room as everyone’s exiting.

I start to dance around doing my own thing, waiting for the hallway to become a lot more empty. I don’t need all these drunken idiots realizing that I want to take a shower.

Eden loves a great party, so she won’t be back down till the morning. At least I hope that’s not true, I really wish she would come back down now, so many things I want to tell her, I should give her a fucking call. “I’ll do that right when I get back,” I say to myself out loud because then I have to do it, that’s what my drunken head is thinking, has planned.

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