We arrive outside the English class too early, and loiter in the hallway, leaning against the wall.
“Are you okay?” she asks, tugging at my hand enough for me to realise I’m squeezing too hard, abruptly letting go.
“Fine. I’m—”
“… she’s a stripper,” a boy farther along the corridor laughs to his mate, back to us, holding his phone with thePrivate Sessionsapp open on Evie’s page.
The word is an offhand comment, spoken underneath his breath, but Evie tenses beside me and without a conscious thought, I lunge towards him, infuriated that the remark hurt her, even a little. Glad to have something to pour my energy into.
The friend’s eyes widen in alarm as I grab the boy’s shoulder and twist him around, bunching the front of his shirt in both fists before slamming him against the lockers. Then immediately doing it again because the thump of his body against the metal doors makes my nerves hum with enjoyment. “What the fuck did you say?”
His expression blanks with shock, gaze darting in all directions as the few kids surrounding him step away.
“N-nothing—”
I headbutt him, skull striking the bridge of his nose with a satisfying crunch. Whatever response he was about to offer dissipates in an instant as his body sags to the side, snapping upright when I tug his shirt, jerking him forward only to slam his torso against the bank of lockers again.
Strength flows into me like the blow handed me all his power. I draw up to my full height, at least four inches above him, tilting my head, looking down, eyes drilling into his like sharp spikes.
The icy fingers gripping my temple have gone, replaced by the fire of my temper as I get closer and closer—an inch, a centimetre, a hair’s breadth—grinning like a fucking maniac. The surrounding students retreat into a loose semicircle, gazes fixed to the free entertainment.
“Answer me,” I growl between thin lips, mouth drawn into a smile as I watch him struggle for the words, every option a potential catastrophe, every phrase a key to unlock freedom or further punishment.
His hands flutter up to push against mine then think better of it, floating back down to his side. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I release him, taking a half step back, then he glances at his friend with a smirk, and I lose it, fully lose it, smashing my fist into his face over and over, nutting him again, this time getting a spatter of his blood over my crisp white shirt, the dark crimson spray making my lip curl, making me step back.
Evie stares at me with wide eyes, pupils expanding until they darken into night. Her head tips back, mouth gently opening. She glances at the injured boy then back to me, tongue slowly licking across her upper lip, commanding my attention for full seconds before I wrest my gaze back to my target.
A steady pulse of blood trickles over his lips, spilling onto his chin. I swipe my forefinger through it, turning back to Evie without thinking, without registering what I have planned.
She tilts her chin to stare up at me, nipples stiffening through the thin material of her blouse, calmly meeting my gaze as I slide my clean hand around the back of her neck.
My lips seek the shell of her ear, to whisper, “Since you can’t wear my collar, how about I paint you one instead?”
And I wasn’t asking her permission, but my chest pulls tight, throbbing in time with my heartbeat as she nods. I wipe my laden finger across her throat, fresh paint for a gorgeous canvas. The blood smears easily across her pale skin, bringing life and colour to match the spreading flush across her cheeks.
When I finish, the pulse in her neck jumps, visibly excited. There’s a vibrant sparkle in her eyes and I feel an echo of thestirring from the first night. A trickle of arousal, muted but still stronger than anyone else has ever drawn from me.
I press my thumb on the centre of her bottom lip, remembering how they parted around the barrel and the surge grows stronger. I move my hand farther, cupping her jaw, pressing my lips to hers before the urge can dissipate, pleasure and trepidation pulsing through my bloodstream.
The touch of her luscious mouth against mine is a powerful cascade of too many sensations to keep track. They pass through me, pure energy, pureneed.
When I pull back a little, panting for breath, she draws me back to her with a gasp, not done, notsatisfied, the palm of her right hand pressed against my chest, her left curling into my hair, tugging it with as much force as I tug hers, giving back as good as she gets.
The welcome in her response drives me crazy.
I pin her against the locker with my bloodstained hand, trapping her like prey, setting upon her like a predator, taking what he wants with only his ragged conscience capable of stopping him.
This time when I break away, I ask, “Do you want me to punish him more?” Not even knowing why, what that could accomplish. Just following the impulse, leaning into everything that usually sends me running.
Evie whispers back, “You remember Iama stripper, right? We literally just talked about this.”
She scrunches her nose, cute enough to be edible. I want to take bites of her, marking every inch of her skin with my teeth, the urge so overpowering that I clench my jaw, so I don’t accidentally follow through and maul her in the hallway.
As my expression twists, she gives a soft laugh. “You can’t punish everyone for using a truthful description.”
“I can if the only reason they use it is to belittle you or hurt you.” I cup her chin, rubbing the rough pad of my thumb against her jawline, watching her shiver, and absorbing it like a compliment. “If he said it with any fucking respect, I wouldn’t have to put him in his place.”
