Tattoos run up the length of both of his arms in his fitted black tee, and I’m willing to bet there's even more ink underneath his clothes.
When the bell rings, I jump up and race out of there like the building is on fire. It takes a moment, but eventually, I find the bathroom and run inside.
I drop my books on the floor and lean over the sink. The dirty mirror shows my flushed, pale skin, long black hair, parted on the side with a widow's peak in the middle. My blue eyes are lost, though. Wide and panicked. Afraid.
I turn on the cold water and am about to splash my face with it when I remember I put on makeup this morning.
The toilet flushes and I straighten.
Shit, I didn’t know someone was in here.
Just as the stall door opens, heavy boot steps echo just outside the bathroom.
And then he’s there. Standing inside the girl’s bathroom.
The mini Jax Teller that’s been staring at me all day.
I tense, staring up at him.
His icy eyes bore into mine as he says, “Out” in a velvety British accent, like the one I heard speaking to Ava earlier.
The girl who was in the stall rushes out, and I realize he was talking to her. He wants to be alone with me. I go to pick up my books, pretending like I’m not a nervous wreck.
He beats me to it, pushing the books out of my hands and back onto the floor. I flinch at the sound echoing as they hit the ground.
He crowds me, towering over me before gripping my hips and lifting me to sit on the bathroom sink. Some of the cold drops of water seep into the fabric of my dress and I gasp. He places his big, tattooed hand over my mouth. Even sitting on the sink, he still has to crouch a bit so that we’re eye to eye. His scent envelops me, like a heady cologne. Leather and spice.
His full lips lift into a vicious snarl. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
I go to kick his legs, but he grabs mine, his hand engulfing my calf and squeezing.
“I’m going to take my hand from your mouth. Just know, if you scream, no one will come to help you,” he says with an evil smirk.
When his hand falls away, I inhale a deep breath. “Fuck you!” My voice vibrates with rage. Then, my hand comes up to slap him and he catches it.
“Nice try, love,” he says, reminding me of Claus from The Vampire Diaries. His hand roams up my legs. “Such soft skin,” he murmurs. “Be a shame if it were to get tarnished,” he taunts.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” I spit.
His eyes narrow into slits, and his jaw clenches. “Alright, love,” he says softly yet lethally. “You had your fun, but speak to me like that again and I will spank the fuck out of you.”
Heat coils in my gut in anger, frustration, and maybe something else.
Mostly, it’s just my fear.
“Just let me go,” I say for the second time today, only this time to a totally different person.
He glowers down at me menacingly before taking my hand and placing it under his shirt.
I stiffen. “What?” My voice is shrill.
Then, I feel this small divot in his skin and he’s using his other hand to lift his shirt.
And I was right. He’s completely covered in tats. What high schooler is covered in tattoos like this?
The more skin he reveals, the more uncomfortable I become. Toned, hard muscles and golden skin...and then I see it. A jagged little circular scar. Is that a bullet wound?
When I look back up at his face, his jaw is tight, and his eyes are hard. He looks even more sinister than before.
“You need to leave Blackcrown Falls immediately,” he says.
“What?” I ask, genuinely confused. “I can’t just up and move. I don’t know what world you’re living in, but that’s not how things work in the real world.”
Suddenly, his hands are wrapped around my throat, slightly blocking my airway. “Fucking leave or I’ll make you,” he says. “And you don’t want to see me when I’m angry.”
“So what?” I gasp. “This is you happy? Wow, I feel so safe and protected right now. Please keep acting this way. It’s so nice. I love it,” I say sarcastically.
“Ah, you’ve got a mouth on you, I see,” he says, rubbing my lip with his finger. “But if I see you show up here tomorrow, you will regret it, love.”
And with that, he walks out of the bathroom, leaving me more confused than I was when he first followed me in the women’s restroom.
2
Ava
Killian Pierce hasn’t spoken a word to me since Freshman year when our whole world fell apart. His grandmother took me in as a foster child when I was eight. Right around the same time, Killian and Kai moved from London to live with her as well. To say she was awful was an understatement. She realized she could make more money by selling my virginity to a creepy old man than she would ever get from the state for caring for me. That had backfired on her though. I wasn’t a virgin, thanks to Killian, and I managed to escape the night I was to be sold. I’d always been closer to Killian than Kai, and I always felt a little guilty for that. Like I somehow intruded on their relationship. They’re half brothers, and don’t look too much alike, other than the dimples when they sport that cold, wicked smile. They weren’t always like that, though. No matter how bad living with their grandmother was, Killian was always kind to me. He looked after me, even when Kai told him I couldn’t be trusted. Until the night I ran away. I’ve spent
