He rubs at his chin in thought. Somehow Doug looks thirty-seven at the ripe age of twenty. I can’t imagine what he’ll look like thirty years from now. “Haven’t seen any butterflies.” He invades my space, stepping a little too close. He smells like stale beer and cologne so thick that it should be illegal.
“Excuse me,” I reply, trying to duck under his arm. I swear I feel the dagger heat at my hip, but I ignore it. The last thing I need is for this guy to know I stole from him.What if he touches my hip and feels it?
He grips my arm, and for a serious moment, I think about chopping it off by the wrist. Literally, a vision of me using the dagger to slice his encroaching hand right off flashes through my mind. I have to hide my smile from Doug, so he doesn’t get the impression that his touch is warranted.What is it with men thinking they have the right to touch a woman without their permission?
“Don’t you want to stay, get to know each other? I’ve got more fun stuff if that’s what you’re into.”
I really want to punch him in the dick and tell him I hope one day a woman shows him what his worth is. But instead, I smile and shake my head. “Maybe, if I find my sister first.”
His sleazy grin widens, and you can just tell that Doug is the subject of generational wealth and privilege. It’s written in the way he holds himself. It’s even more obvious how he was stupid enough to hold a party in his family home filled to the brim with expensive shit—shit that could turn a profit.
Suddenly a bright pink butterfly runs into me, her cheeks stained pink. She’s clearly been crying.
“Diana?” I ask with a slight hint of panic while holding onto her forearms as she falls apart.
“He was dancing with Savannah Bell,” she whines as she tries to hold herself together.
“Let’s get out of here unless you want me to punch him in the throat for you?”
That garners a slight smile from my sister, but she shakes her head no.
Doug looks pissed. Little does he know, not only did I get out of an encounter where I would have the disprivilege of his company, but I’ve also stolen one of the Cummings' family treasures. As we walk further and further from the house, I swear I can feel contentment flow through me. The dagger warms my skin like it’s excited to be taken away from this place.
I can tell Diana had a drink or two as she stumbles in her shoes.
“You can say it, say you told me so.”
“That’s not what I want to say, Diana.”
“I don’t get it; how come I couldn’t see what a jerk he was?”
I sigh as I help her get into the car on the passenger’s side.
“You like to see the best in people; that’s not a bad thing.”
“But you don’t?”
“No.” I keep it simple, knowing that, without a doubt, most people’s intentions are based in a selfish nature. As I look over at my innocent and endearing sister, I know that it’s my job to take care of her and protect her from the evil in this world, even if it darkens my soul further.
Chapter one
Two years later…
“Remember,yourpapersonCamus are due next Wednesday. Is finding happiness even in the darkest moments of our life an act of rebellion? Do you think he’s blowing smoke up our ass? Are his ideologies actually possible in real life?” Professor Montague recites to the class. Sue me for taking one of his classes all four years of college. He’s a silver fox who bends me over and fucks me the way I like—mostly.
I probably shouldn’t have let him turn me into his dirty, little secret. He keeps promising me that once I graduate, we can go public, and I’m apparently deluded enough to believe him. Because I need something to feel alive—and what I want to do to feel alive is considered a felony—so fucking my professor will have to do. The thoughts that have been consuming me lately have gotten worrisome, but I lock them away. I do my best to fit in and sedate what feels like a beast lurking inside of me.
“Lilith, can I see you after class?” he asks, and I nod. I watch him in his beige slacks and rolled-up white shirt. He has wavey, dark blond hair and thick-rimmed glasses that give him that bangable professor look that I love so much. There’s something about an older man that appeals to me. Maybe it’s how many drunk college guys I’ve witnessed acting like complete neanderthals. Or maybe it has to do with wanting a man to be able to take control of me, for once. I’m always in my own head, and I just want the release of not constantly overthinking. Professor Montague almost gets me there.
I stay in my seat, taking longer to pack up as the other students leave the lecture hall. I look good today, more than good if I do say so myself. My thick, long blonde hair is in a high ponytail, and I wear a simple white blouse with a checkered navy skirt. I watch as Mr. Montague licks his finger to flip through a book. I really should start calling him Henry, but something about calling him professor does something for me.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Montague,” I ask, leaning my ass against the edge of his desk and spreading my legs slightly. He clears his throat and smiles at me.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I have to cancel tonight.”
“Oh,” I say, not letting the rejection show on my face. He was supposed to take me on a real date tonight. We were going to drive to North Point—a little town away from campus. But it was going to be a date with tablecloths and all. Anger bubbles up inside of me, and I force a smile on my face and nod. “We can reschedule?”
“I’d love that. My sister and her husband are coming into town unexpectedly.”
