The people around us laugh, and that fuels him. I force myself to lift my chin and face him head-on. No use shrinking now, even though I’m woefully unprepared. I didn’t expect the barbs to come out so soon, so viciously. After all, I left this bar, drunk, with Jack, and blew him. It’s not a secret, thanks to him.
“How about this? You can go back to your seat with your little friend over there and drink your cheap margarita, and you fantasize about what I’d do to you… if you were worth my time. Or better yet? Just get out of my fucking sight.” He sneers. “You gave up your spot on the dance team. You’re essentially useless to this school, aren’t you? No more accolades, no more recognition. Soon enough, you’ll be invisible.”
I flinch.
His eyes light up, like he’s finally found something that scares me.
“Poor little gimp.” His voice is low and cruel. He’s found a wound and he’s going to press on it, drawing out the pain. “Can’t make it as a dancer, probably won’t get a job in whatever fucking career path you chose as a plan B. You’ll go back to living on your mommy’s couch and working twelve-hour shifts at a gas station until you rot of old age.”
“No.” I’m shaking. Trembling with anger. How dare he talk to me like that? “No, I’m going to succeed. And your demons are going to drag you back to Hell where you belong.”
He smiles. “If I belong in Hell, so do you.”
He takes his drink and sips it, then extends his arm. I watch his hand, watch the glass. Watch it happen in slow motion, but I can’t fucking do anything as he tips it over my head.
Beer hits me. It drenches my hair in an instant, soaks my shirt, and makes it stick to my chest. I take a quick step back, then another. The people part for me, not wanting to get splashed. It’s cold. My skin pricks, every part of me on fire at the humiliation. And the echoing laughs. There’s a whooshing sound in my ears that muffles everything.
I brush my hair out of my eyes, trying to hide my tremors. “This isn’t over.”
He nods slowly. “I hope not.”
I turn around and head back to Willow, then stop short. Knox is on my stool, giving her all his attention. There’s a chance she completely missed what just happened… and I don’t want to ruin her night. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. Ruining things.
The beer has traveled to my jeans, dampening the waistband. My skin is sticky, my hair gross. I want to scream. That verbal spar didn’t go as planned. Didn’t happen the way I wanted it to at all. And if I want to retaliate, I’m going to need to take another look at that fucking nondisclosure agreement.
For the first time, I feel utterly silenced. I feel small. Unable to respond in the way I want to, knowing that if I insinuate anything about the accident, he could take everything from me.
I spin on my heel and march right past Greyson and his cronies, heading for the exit.
7
VIOLET
I make it halfway home when someone grabs me. Their hands wrap around my mouth and waist, yanking me backwards. They pinch my nose closed. I suddenly can’t take a breath.
I thrash and kick wildly, but my attacker doesn’t care.
On some level, I know it’s Greyson. The neighborhood on this side of the university has always been quiet, almost sleepy at night. Willow and I have been living here for three years without incident.
My chest aches the longer I go without oxygen. My throat screams. Black spots flicker in my peripherals, and it only takes another few seconds for my vision to dim.
It’s only when I sag that he releases my face.
I suck in a deep, hiccupping breath.
He spins me around and puts me against the wall. The rough brick of the apartment building rubs into my back, catching on my hair. He has his hood pulled up, and there’s a wild look in his eye.
Without warning, he covers my mouth and nose again. His other hand presses down on my chest, keeping me pinned. Tears burn my eyes. My body is on fire, and all I want to do is fight my way out of this.
I scratch his skin. Pull at his wrists. For the first time, I am afraid of what he’ll do. And he sees it the moment it registers in my eyes.
He releases my nose, keeping my mouth covered, and leans in close. I suck in as much air as I can get. His lips touch his knuckles, the only barrier between us. His fingers dig into my cheek. His gaze moves all over my face.
“This is what I want,” he breathes. “I didn’t know it until just now. But your fear is better than any drug. I thought I wanted to torment you. But now I just want this. Over and over again.”
I shudder.
He’s a fucking lunatic.
And then his hand on my chest inches lower. He cups my breast through my wet shirt, squeezing roughly before moving down.
I swallow, and he catches the movement.
He’s breathing heavy, too.
When his fingers slide under the waistband of my pants, a new fight emerges. I buck and jerk my head to the side. I need to dislodge him.
“Do you fight me and make this worse for you?” he muses. “Or better?”
A rhetorical question, seeing as how I haven’t been able to get him to release my mouth.
“One day I’ll want your fight,” he decides. “Right now, I want your silence.”
He pushes past the hem of my panties, and I close my eyes. I have to fight my own groan. No one’s touched me there in months. I haven’t wanted anyone near me after the crash—especially not Jack. Evident by the sloppy blow job I gave him without asking for anything in return.
Greyson doesn’t have that problem. And even if I were able to voice my opinion—that he should get the fuck away from me—I have a feeling he wouldn’t listen.
He runs his finger down, and my eyes flutter open again. He pins me against the wall better, his leg keeping mine open. And when his finger moves across my clit, I can’t hold back my groan.
“Fascinating,” he murmurs.
I don’t want to know what he means.
His finger dips inside me, and he exhales harshly. I let out a low moan. It feels good, even when it really shouldn’t. He strokes me until I squirm, then keeps going. I fight it, my eyes narrowing. I clench my abs and ignore the intense feeling at my center.
I will not come because of him.
But it seems he won’t take no for an answer. He shifts, pressing against my clit with his thumb and pushing two fingers inside me. He finger-fucks me and watches my face. His tongue darts out, licking his lips, and he readjusts his grip on my mouth.
It’s a good thing, too, because his palm catches the obscene noise that bubbles out of me.
The orgasm crashes through me out of nowhere, and I’m suddenly grateful for the wall to keep me standing. He absorbs it all. My cunt clenches around his fingers. His hand slides out, and he brings his wet fingers up to his mouth.
He tastes me, and I freeze. I don’t know what to make of this—any of it. My skin is feverish, my core still tingling in the aftermath. And he licks his fingers, cleaning them and seeming to enjoy it. He finally releases my mouth and steps back.
“I take what I want, Violet. Remember that.”
8
GREYSON
I skate out onto the ice, contemplating my next move with Violet.
My obsession with her is getting worse. I can’t stop thinking about her. Bloody. Bruised. Brutalized. I want to push my limits, yes, but I want to push her limits. See how far I can take things until we both crumble.