Cian: Any news, Mikki?
Kalen （admin）： Mikel is currently ending his arrangement. There won’t be news tonight.
Mikel watched as Cian and Theodore both began typing, before they stopped again. It wasn’t the best timing, but neither of them would question Kalen or him.
Mikel: I’ll be getting the information one way or another, but maybe not tonight.
Kalen started typing, and Mikel rolled his eyes, quickly tapping out a message before Kalen could lose his shit.
Mikel （admin）： I still ended it.
Kalen also stopped typing, and then Mikel returned his attention briefly to the woman on the kitchen counter. She was pouring the wine delicately onto her chest, her fingers following the stream down to her hip, where the drips teetered and spilled off to the side of her waist. Her fingers continued down, tunnelling into her pussy. It wasn’t hot, those painted claws disappearing between pink lips. He needed more than that.
He covered the microphone. “Drink the wine, Tilda, don’t play with it. Empty the bottle.”
His phone vibrated again.
Theodore: I’m glad it’s over. We don’t need her.
Moses: Um. I know you’re a kinky bastard and everything, but not even you can tame crazy. Get out while you can.
Mikel （admin）： Try me.
Cian: RIP Tilda.
Moses: You will be remembered.
Moses: By someone.
Moses: Oh, who am I kidding, she doesn’t even have a cat.
Gabriel: Try not to make a mess.
Niko: What the hell are you doing to her?
Mikel （admin）： I’m not doing anything.
Elijah: I’m afraid to ask.
Niko: No, you aren’t.
Elijah: Okay, I’m not.
Mikel （admin）： Everything that is being done to her, she’s doing herself. I’m just standing here on my phone. But the video should keep her on our side for a while.
He lifted his eyes from his phone again, realising Tilda had finished the bottle. Sloppily. There was wine running down the sides of her mouth.
“Put it inside you,” he ordered coldly.
He wasn’t even pretending anymore.
“Noo,” she whined. “Come here and spank me instead. Choke me. Scratch me.”
Predictable.
“What else?” he asked.
“Hurt me!” she demanded, clutching the bottle.
“You know what you have to do,” he returned, tapping back into the group chat as he covered the microphone. “Get yourself off with that bottle and I’ll make sure you’re covered in my mark tomorrow.”
For everyone to see.
For you to file a report.
He hated that he had been right.
He hated that there was no loyalty inside her.
He hated it so much that it was a shock to his system when he scraped a hand down his face in irritation and got a heady whiff of cherry. Isobel had been saturated in her own scent. Contented by Theodore and Kilian’s efforts to comfort her … but it was still a surprise that her scent remained so strong on his skin.
He swallowed as his anger and frustration melted into something else, his hand tightening around the phone. For the briefest, most disturbing second, his sight wavered, and he imagined another body on the counter, dripping in liquid and following his orders. A growl built up in the back of his throat and he dropped his phone down, cutting off the recording.
He walked out, slamming the door, his eyes closing for a brief second as he willed his half-hard cock to deflate.
He stalked into the elevator and texted the group a quick message.
Mikel （admin）： We’re set. There won’t be any repercussions from Tilda.
To Tilda, he sent the recording.
Mikel: Nobody has seen it, and nobody has to. Don’t ever try to trap me again, Tilda.
He briefly considered sending another, kinder message. Something like I enjoyed our mutually beneficial arrangement, or maybe to wish her the best for the future, but Tilda wasn’t a sentimental person and she likely wouldn’t appreciate the empty attempts at pleasantries.
It was better to just be honest, and he honestly wasn’t thinking about their arrangement or her future at all by the time his feet hit the pathway leading back to Dorm A.
His focus had always been on the Alphas, and tonight was no different.
8
How About Go Fuck Yourself?
It was difficult for Isobel to drag herself back from the warm, fuzzy depths of sleep, and the closer she got to the surface of consciousness, the more she ached. It was a slow pain, a cinder sparking against a rough, cavernous wall, showing just how cold and empty she was inside.
It was confusing, because at the same time, she felt amazing.
She felt light as air, warm to her core, and blissed out on the most delicious aroma. Like a full-bloom meadow in spring, the bergamot-oleander blend was heady and drowsy, sweet and sunny. Light and fragrant, but utterly addictive. She cracked her eyes open, blurrily focussing on the ceiling of Theodore’s room, her arms and legs flinging out as she unfurled in a heavy, lazy stretch.
The bed was empty, but still warm on either side of her.
She paused, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember what had happened the night before. Kilian. Theodore. The shower. And then … nothing?
Panic sluiced through her, heavy and sharp, but there were no new scars on her arms. In fact, the scars she did have seemed to have faded slightly. They were smaller. Thinner. Less jagged.
The bed smelled only faintly of Theodore, and strongly of Kilian and Sato. They must have stayed with her.
She sucked in a lungful of air, trying to clear away the remnants of her panic as the door cracked open, Cian appearing with a cup of coffee and a plate of avocado toast.
“Morning, sunshine.” He kicked the door closed behind him, eyeing her carefully. “Ready to go viral because the sexiest Alpha in Dorm A just brought you breakfast in be—” He froze, his eyes zeroing in on her chest.
She glanced down, freezing at the slight glow through her borrowed T-shirt. She yanked at the neckline, pulling it far enough to reveal the shining gemstone. The new gemstone. It was a few inches below the stone that had momentarily given her Kalen’s powers. It was a cold, icy grey, like a cloudy diamond.
The panic tried to claw back into her, but Cian’s panic was stronger, drowning hers out. He dropped the plate, shoving the mug onto the bedside table as he fell onto the bed, grabbing her head in his hands.
“Focus on me,” he said quietly. “Take five deep breaths. Count them for me.”
Panic, panic, panic.
It hammered into her, denting her barricade, knocking her off kilter.
“Y-You’re the one freaking out,” she gritted. “N-Not me.”
He blew out a breath that was half laugh, half scoff, his emotion settling somewhat. “Right. Sorry. Tell me what you’re feeling?”
He was still holding her face, his hands making her feel tiny, the roughness of his palms tempting her to turn her face to the side and brush her cheek against the texture, but she held herself back.
“I feel … warm. Like nothing really. Are you trying to hold me in place by my head so I don’t turn back time?”
He made that huffing sound again, his hands drifting, one of them slipping around the back of her neck, the other dropping to her shirt, weighing down the neckline as he stared at the gemstone … and almost exposed her chest a little too much. “We don’t know what this one does. It could be …” He trailed off, giving her a guarded look.