She leans into his embrace, fixated on him. “I’m Clara. This is my friend Vesper.” She motions to me, but her eyes never leave his.
“Kieran.” He nods, his hand running slow circles against her shoulder blade.
I give an awkward wave and slide my arm over my stomach. “Hi.”
A strange overwhelming feeling that someone’s staring at me passes through me. I can’t pinpoint it, but I feel something dark and dangerous lasering into my backside. I scan over the room while Clara continues chatting with the creepy masked guy. My gaze pauses at a deranged-looking guy with dark makeup running down his face. He’s sprawled out on a couch with his legs spread and his arms fanned behind him, looking like the epitome of unhinged. His head is tipped back, so I can’t get a better look at his face other than the dark makeup. Jet-black waves hang over his eyes, shielding them from my view. He looks menacing but mesmerizing at the same time. The bad boy type my parents warned me about growing up. The entire time I study him, his head stays tracked on me, unmoved.
“Right, Vesper?” Clara tugs at my arm, jarring me from my thoughts. My arm falls freely at my side, and I snap my head in her direction, breaking eye contact with the stranger.
“Huh? Oh yeah, definitely,” I reply with a smile, having not a clue what she even asked.
She gives me an odd look, like she knows I’m a clueless bitch. Her eyes dart to the mystery man before landing back on me with a knowing smirk.
“I was just telling Kieran that we love Grimshaw Academy so far and how you’re studying music.”
His lip curls, and he looks between us as if unfazed by her mindless droning. It’s clear he’s here for one thing, and it certainly isn’t small talk.
“Down to share? Nyla over there has favors,” he offers, nodding to a strung-out busty redhead in the corner. She grinds against a short blond guy in a Jason mask. The redhead leans her head back, letting out a drugged-out laugh. The poor girl looks rough. Kieran licks his lips and salivates like a dog, pinning his gaze between Clara and I, then back to Nyla.
Not a chance.
I raise a brow. I’m definitely not into fucking random strangers, let alone multiple.
Clara runs her manicured nails up his shirt and purrs, “I’ll play.” She looks back at me for approval.
“Go ahead.” I motion her off. This is more her scene than mine. I’d never stop her from living out her own fantasies. She openly uses, and I know she has her own demons to work out.
I tug at my leather skirt nervously, pulling the fabric down to cover my bare ass, but it’s no use. I loathe clothes like this. I feel so exposed. Having no clue what to do with myself, I start wandering around the house. My mind drifts back to the mystery man from earlier, something dangerous and wild is reeling me in, something Mom always told me to avoid when she was alive.
Just then, a dark, rich baritone gravels from behind me, sucking me in. “Hello, little songbird, won’t you sing for me?”
Iwhirl around to be met with the same sinfully deranged-looking guy from earlier. He is even more massive up close. Easily six foot six. Tattoos spiraling down his forearms and onto his hands. If I were to guess, he has more hidden under his shirt. His form crowds over me, but I’m glued in place. My brain tells me to run, but I’m unable to budge an inch. A lump forms in my throat and alarm bells start going off in my head. He’s dangerous; a wild, savage beast. Now that he’s closer, his eyes are a hazy gray, almost void of emotion at all. He looks older than me, maybe in his mid to late twenties, but it’s hard to tell with his smudged skull makeup. He smells of vanilla, a woody musk, and cheap cigarettes, so why do I find myself leaning closer to revel in it? I blink several times before realizing I never answered him.
“Pardon me?” I squeak out, craning my neck up to meet his eyes. The guy is so massive; it’s intimidating.
He lets out a dark, sinister laugh that makes my bones chill. He takes a step forward into my space before leaning down to whisper into my ear. “Won’t you sing for me?” His voice is thick and gravelly. His knuckles brush over the bare skin of my stomach for a brief moment, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. I can’t tell if it’s intentional or accidental.
How does he know I’m studying music? I’ve never seen him around campus before. He notices my hesitation and lets out a chuckle. “Name’s Zain.” He takes a step back and cocks his head, like he’s dissecting me. His muted gray eyes stay trained on me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. His commanding presence has me absolutely frozen in place.
I manage to pull myself back to reality and put my hand out. “I’m Vesper,” I say cheerfully with a practiced smile.
He looks down at my outstretched hand like he has no idea what he’s supposed to do. I quickly rein in my hand. My smile falters, and my eyes dart around awkwardly. “So…is this your place?” I ask, hoping to change the atmosphere as I rock back and forth in my boots.
“You like it?” he smooths out. An amused sinister half smile tugged on his lips.
I nod my head quickly. “Oh yeah, it’s lovely.” I smile politely, looking around again just to avoid his burning eyes. Something dark lives within him, and my curiosity is threatening to get the best of me.
He scoffs and shakes his head in a disgusted twist. “You’re a terrible liar, little songbird,” he replies darkly.
“I— No. I—” My voice comes out strangled as I stumble over my words. Maybe I can salvage this instead of looking like a bumbling idiot.
“This place is a fucking shithole,” he scoffs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his baggy pants. My eyes are drawn to his veiny forearms when he taps it against his palm. He must mistake my staring for dry begging. One of his cigarettes pokes out of the pack, and he holds it out like an offering. I shake my head quickly.
“Right. Girls like you don’t smoke,” he sneers. His words bring me down a notch.Girls like me?
Girls…like…me.
Good girls…
