I climb awkwardly to my feet, my body drained from the rough sex and the emotional aftermath, cleaning the mess up in between yawns. As soon as I put my bed back together, I flop onto the mattress, drag the comforter up over my head, and attempt to erase the last couple hours from my mind.
_______________
“What the fuckhappened to you?” Caz asks the following morning when he enters the kitchen, gawking at the multitude of hickeys covering my neck and my collarbone. He moves in closer, his brows knitting together as he inspects the faint bite marks dotting my jawline. I’ve tried my best to disguise the marks on my face with makeup, but the ones on my neck are harder to hide. Even if I wear a scarf, something that would draw attention itself, it won’t cover all of them because they go right up both sides of my neck.
“The same affliction that did a number on our fearless leader,” Galen drawls, entering the kitchen with Saint in tow.
Caz inspects Saint’s injuries with his jaw trailing the ground. Saint has hickeys all over his neck too and obvious scratches to his face that can’t be hidden.
Guess we gave one another a real workout last night.
Caz crosses his arm, narrowing his eyes at Saint, because it’s obvious as fuck what went down last night. “Is the rulebook thrown out, or are you making your own rules now?”
“You didn’t go unsatisfied from what I remember,” Saint coldly replies, brushing past me without acknowledgment and reaching for the coffeepot.
I’m already nursing my third cup of coffee, debating whether I should play hooky today. Yet hiding from the world feels like I’d be handing Saint a victory on a silver platter, and I’m in no mood to do that either.
“Still would’ve appreciated an invite to the party,” Caz grumbles, popping some bread in the toaster.
“And end up looking like Chris Brown and Rhianna after date night?” Galen says. “No thanks. You can keep that shit.”
I gasp. “Take that back! That was domestic abuse, and he was arrested for assaulting her. It’s not something you should joke about.”
“As opposed to you two angry fucking and slapping the shit out of one another?” Theo questions from his position by the doorway. He looks shocked and miserable, and he won’t meet my eyes.
“It was consensual,” Saint says. “And it’s nothing the fuck to do with any of you.”
“The hell it isn’t,” Caz shouts. “We’re not allowed to touch her! You went apeshit on my ass when you found us fucking in my room. Now, what, that’s suddenly okay?”
Saint pushes Caz out of his face. “Let me make it clear for you.” He grinds his teeth, and anger rolls off him in waves. “The princess is mine to do with as I please. If you ask nicely, I might let you fuck her on occasion.”
“Excuse me?” I bore a hole in the side of his skull. “I’ll fuck whomever I want whenever I want, and right now, you’re the last fucking cock I want to ride.”
He smirks. “Try telling that to someone who believes it.”
“This is fucking bullshit!” Galen roars, pushing his way in between them. “Can’t you see what she’s doing to us? She is going to rip us apart and then stand back and laugh.”
“You have a mighty high opinion of me all of a sudden,” I retort.
“I’m just calling it like I see it,” he says, shoving past all of us. “None of this shit is going to end well.”
_______________
“You and Saintare all anyone’s talking about today,” Sariah tells me at lunch. We’re at a table at the back of the library pretending to study while we eat. I couldn’t stomach the cafeteria today. Not because of the nosy looks—my fellow classmates can take their judgmental opinions and shove them up their ass—because I need distance from the Saints.
Things are becoming…intense.
In a way I can’t explain.
One part of me loves how much I feel like I belong with them.
Another part of me hates how it feels like I’m losing my identity. Because I’m struggling to process my feelings when it comes to those guys, especially Saint.
“Hey, baby.” Sean circles his arms around Sariah from behind as Emmett drops into a seat beside me.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Emmett’s eyes pop wide as he scans my marked jawline and neck. His fists clench into balls as he jumps back up. “I don’t give a shit who that bastard is, he’s going down for this.”
I tug on his arm, glaring at the few heads that lift and stare in our direction. “Sit back down.” When he doesn’t move, I peer up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, Emmett.” He reclaims his seat, and I thread my fingers through his. “Saint didn’t hurt me. It was consensual rough sex. Okay?”
