“I don’t want it unless you’re ready to beg,” I tell her, meaning every fucking word. Then I turn on a heel and walk away, leaving her alone in the kitchen as I stalk back down the hall toward my bedroom.
When I enter, it feels colder than before. The bed looks too big, too fucking empty. I flop down in the middle of it anyway,stretching out and staring up at the ceiling, the silence pressing in from all sides.
The shadows gather at the edges of my vision as I think about the logistics of moving the shipment, of repaying the funds. Of the potential war we’re about to enter with the Dollhouse.
But mostly, I think about my slutty little stepsister curled up in bed with my best friend.
I think about those gasps and moans I heard drifting down the hall earlier from his room.
And I think about how fucking satisfying it’ll be– how fucking sweet she’ll sound– when she finally begs for me.
CHAPTER 15
AVA
The Bistro isa war zone at noon. Every table packed, every seat claimed, the air itself practically thrumming with the restless energy of bored, overfed, horny co-eds looking for a reason to hate their lives a little less between classes. The moment I step through the doors, every head within a ten-foot radius swings my way, then snaps back again, as if they’re terrified to be caught looking but just can’t help themselves.
I’m honestly not sure whether I love it or hate it.
The old me– the naïve girl who first arrived at Corvus College– would’ve ducked my head, tucked my hair behind my ears, and made a beeline for the food counter, praying not to get tripped along the way. But after enduring the Kings’ torture and coming out on the other side of it as their Doll, I’ve either been cured of impulse or just injected with something meaner and sharper. I manage to keep my spine straight and my head high, even as my skin crawls with the sensation of being watched.
The Kings’ usual table is dead center of the room, and the area around it may as well be their personal VIP lounge, even though it’s technically open seating. Nobody even thinks about sitting near them if they’re not explicitly summoned, and today is no exception.
Ford and Raf are on one side of the table, both hunched over their plates like they’re plotting world domination, while Wes is seated on the opposite side, his posture casual as his gaze tracks every flicker of movement around them. When his eyes land on me, they instantly sharpen, and my heart does an embarrassing little flip at the attention.
I force myself not to rush as I cross the room to them, but my legs are trembling by the time I reach the table. I’m not sure I’ll ever be fully comfortable in the presence of these boys.
“Well if it isn’t our pretty little Dolly,” Ford remarks as I approach, flicking his chin up in acknowledgement as a lazy grin slides into place. “Didn’t know if you’d actually show.”
“Only because you threatened to come find me if I didn’t,” I huff, aiming for annoyed but just sounding petulant.
My last class before lunch was with Ford, but when I suggested going to the library to study for an hour before eating, he had zero interest in joining me. He just said I was expected to be at the Bistro by noon, so here I am.
“Got you a coffee,” Wes says, patting the seat beside him as he slides a paper cup over.
“Ugh, I could kiss you,” I groan, dropping into the seat beside him and reaching for it.
Before my hand can close around the cup– before I can even freaking blink– Wes’ hand latches around the nape of my neck. He yanks me in, crushing his lips against mine in a hard, unexpected kiss.
The move is so quick that I don’t even have a chance to properly react– my lips part for him on muscle memory alone. The heat of his body, the taste of his mouth, and the spicy scent of his aftershave are so alluring and achingly familiar that I kiss him back on instinct, his tongue sliding over mine, coffee and mint mingling with that underlying warmth that used to make me melt. It’s so sudden, so jarring, that for a full, recklesssecond, I forget myself; forget who he is and what he did. I let myself lean into it, forgetting that I’m not supposed to want it.
Then I snap back to reality, slapping my palms against his chest and shoving him away.
“What the hell?!” I sputter, wiping my mouth off on the back of a hand, heat rushing to my cheeks.
A goofy grin spreads across his face. “You said you could kiss me,” he drawls, shrugging.
“That’s not… I just…” I stammer, ridiculously flustered.
“Not fair, I want one,” Ford pouts from the other side of the table, shoving his plate aside so he can lean over it toward me. “C’mon, Ava baby, lay one on me. Don’t be shy.”
“No way,” I snap, glancing around the room and instantly regretting it. Every person in our periphery is openly gawking at our table, some with expressions of envy, others just outright disgust.
Ford grins wider, leaning in even further until I can smell the bite of his cologne. “Why not?” he scoffs. “You like Wes better than me?”
“Of course she does,” Wes says with a smirk, draping his arm around my shoulders like it belongs there.
I hate how warm and grounding it feels.
