They start an intense conversation, throwing obscure bands and song titles back and forth. Everyone around us takes this as a cue to that conversation is allowed to begin again, that an uneasy truce has been reached at the royal table—
“What the fuck?”
It’s not Darren who rasps those words, but someone behind me. Someone who drives a shard of ice through my chest.
My whole body clenches. I don’t have to turn around to recognize the voice. I’ll remember it forever, the way it hissed in my ear as an unwanted cock brushed against my thigh.
Alec.
The urge to run consumes me. I’m tough, sure, but this guy tried to rape me and he’s standingright behind me,close enough that I can smell him. I grip the edge of the table and force my shoulders to relax.
We could have reported you, Alec. We let you believe you’ve gotten away with this, that the worst I can do to you is over.
You are wrong.
Gabriel and Eli stand up, flanking either side of me. Eli folds his arms, and I’m aware suddenly of just how toned and fucking sexy his forearms are. He’s not quite as ripped as Noah, but all that running left him in fine physical fitness. Between Eli and pretty-actor-boy Alec, I have no doubt who will win if Eli decides to bring fists into play.
That’s not Eli’s style, though. “This isn’t your table anymore, LeMarque.”
Alec steps toward him, his lips curled back into a snarl. “My boys were here first. You don’t own this table, Hart. It’s a free fucking country. So why don’t you take your psycho-bitch-ghost-slut and move along. Unless she’s dragged you back to me because she’s so desperate for my cock—”
Eli moves so fast I don’t see it. One moment he’s standing beside me, his shoulder tense, his usually-kind eyes filled with loathing. The next moment, Alec’s on the floor, his nose bleeding. Eli winces as he shakes out his wrist.
“I’ll get you for this,” Alec huffs, clutching his nose as he smears blood on the floor.
“Eli,fuck.” I scan the dining hall. Hundreds of faces are trained on us. I notice Ms. Drysdale moving across the cafeteria toward us. She won’t be able to see much over the heads of the students crowding around, but if anyone says a thing to her, Eli will get in trouble. I stand up to try and salvage the situation, but my rage takes hold of me. I lean over Alec and kick him squarely between the legs.
Alec wheezes like a shitty car struggling up a hill. His hands fly off his face to protect his legs. The dressing flops off his forehead, revealing the healing scar of my initials.
MM. Property of Mackenzie Malloy.
He’s marked for death, and everyone here knows it. A couple of brave students lean over and snap pictures.
“Jesus. Look at you. You’re pathetic. Just get out of here, Alec.”
It’s Noah. He holds his tray under one arm, all casual-like. His other hand smooths dark strands of hair from his aristocratic face. His eyes burn with the full depth of his hatred, but this time it’s not directed at me.
Alec rolls to his knees and crawls to the outside door. His three friends hurry to vacate our table and scurry after him. A few students clap, but one glare from Noah shuts them up. Ms. Drysdale is nearly on us. Gabriel tosses his bookbag on the floor, covering up the bloodstain.
Noah sits down opposite me, his head bent over his food. Ms. Drysdale appears at his side a moment later. “What’s going on over here?” she demands.
“Nothing, ma’am,” Gabriel flashes her that impish grin of his. “I was demonstrating a dance move from my latest music video, and I got a little carried away and accidentally kicked Alec LeMarque. He’s fine, he’s just gone outside for some air.”
Ms. Drysdale looks to the French doors. She sees Alec heaving himself onto a bench, barking orders at his friends while blood dries on his face. She must see the MM branded into his forehead. I brace myself for trouble.
Instead, a smile tugs the corner of Ms. Drysdale’s mouth. She turns to me, and in an almost imperceptible movement, she winks. She fuckingwinks.
I’m too floored to say anything. Ms. Drysdale turns back to Gabriel. “Very well, Mr. Fallen. But you shouldn’t be horsing around like that in the dining hall. Someone could be seriously hurt.”
Gabriel hangs his head, feigning regret. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
She turns to Noah. “Mr. Marlowe, I’m glad to have caught you. Mackenzie informs me you refused to tutor her. That’s in violation of the school’s tutoring policy, and I’ll have to speak to the principal about revoking your status as—”
Noah shakes his head. “That was a misunderstanding, ma’am. Mac and I have a tutoring session this afternoon.”
I nod. “It’s true.”
“Ah. Very good then.” She lets that smile play ever so faintly across her lips. “Carry on, students.”
