Page 21

“Fuck no,” he laughs. “I love all of it, as much as he does, maybe more. But believe it or not, kitten, I’m not all about the glory. I’m about the process.” He locks eyes with me. It’s impossible to look away. “And you’re going to help me.”

“Me? How? I’m here to stop all of this.”

“We’re going to make sure your boyfriend and his whore take the fall. Then I’ll claim the position of president and restructure things.”

“Won’t you get in trouble too?”

“Not if we play this right.” He picks up my shirt and walks over, holding it out. “I know everyone thinks I’m a slacker, but that’s just because that’s what I let them see. There’s more to Miller Hansen than people realize.”

I stare at the shirt, the feeling in my skin, my brain, finally coming back. The nausea is still there. I’m not sure if it’s from the alcohol or from the assault. Probably both. “Why do you think I’m going to help you? I can walk out of here and go straight to my contact. I can leave this school. I’m already blacklisted. There’s no reason for me to do anything for you. Especially, not after…” I look down at the couch and swallow the lump in my throat, “after what you just did.”

Miller’s hand shoots out, quick and forceful. He grabs my arm and lifts me to my feet. His lips curl into that scary, dangerous, smile. “I know you, kitten. I know what you really want. You help me, you do every single thing I ask of you over the next seven days, and I’ll make sure your social standing is reinstated. Sorority of your choice. I’ll get that video obliterated from internet history, and I’ll help you get revenge on the person you hate the most.”

“Andrea?” My heart leaps at the idea. It’s foolish, but I’m desperate.

He nods. “We’ll destroy her, and if you still want Royer after I’ve knocked him off his pedestal, then you can have him.” His hand cups my face and swipes his thumb over my cheek, eliciting a tremor that runs down my spine. “But the real reason you’re going to help me is that the alternative is worse than you can imagine.”

“Worse than what you just did to me?”

“The Zeta Sig’s have a tradition for everything, Reagan, including bitches that betray us.” His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip. “It wouldn’t have been just my cum all over your body. It would have been every single one of the men in this frat. In your hair, your face, your mouth…” His eyes sweep down. There’s no mistaking the hunger there. He must really want to displace Royer, because I get the feeling he would love to see me in that position. “You wouldn’t just be blacklisted. You’d bemarked.” He pushes the swoop of hair out of my eyes. “But for now, you’re just mine. Which means I’ll protect you and make sure you get through the week, as long as you do everything I tell you.”

So, there’s no choice. Every move I make, things get worse. I either get exposed to the whole group, or see this through, under Miller’s thumb. I’d already been busted on the first night. There’s no way I would have made it on my own, even with Grayson’s help. I need someone on the inside just to survive.

“You promise to take down Andrea?”

He makes an X on his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“And you’ll help me get my social status back.”

“Yep.”

His hand thrusts out.

“Fine,” I say, as though I have a choice. I slide my palm against his, prepared to shake, but he pauses.

“Remember, you do everything that I tell you and you’ll survive. I own you this week. No arguments.”

Working with Miller doesn’t exactly seem like the lesser of two evils, but at least he’s the devil I know verses a string of frat boys downstairs that I don’t. Getting my social standing back is a long shot. Taking on Royer without help seems even more unlikely. Destroying Andrea is my goal. Grayson… well, he’ll have to take what he can get.

Our palms meet, and a wave of uncertainty rolls over me. I’m damned no matter what I do, and the glint in Miller’s eye tells me that he knows it.

9

Reagan

The path I take from the Zeta Sig house to my dorm is beyond a walk of shame. It’s a fucked-up, twisted maze of insanity and desperation. The only solace I have is that no one on campus, other than Miller, recognizes me. For a girl, this is the walk of shame. A guy? A stride of pride.

I stop and vomit in the bushes. Bent over and heaving, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and continue home.

In my dorm room, while the water heats in the shower, I rinse my mouth with mouthwash, letting the antiseptic burn. My tits ache. I think it’s from being in that compression tank all night, but when I pull it off, I see the bruises forming in the shape of fingertips.Bastard.Pushing open the curtain, I dunk under the stream of water. I have it up as high as it will go, trying to burn off Miller’s cum. I scrub and lather, but even after I’m dried off, and in my pajamas, I still feel dirty. Marked. Will that ever go away?

I don’t even think about the rest of it. The way it felt to have Miller over me, forced to confront his ripped body and perfect face. The way his fingers closed around my throat and the way my body reacted. That’s the real shame. The true betrayal. The one I did to myself.

Is that who I am? The girl that gets off on men treating her like shit? If the last week has proven anything, it may be that.

Turing off the light, I crawl into bed, sinking into the clean sheets. I’ve never been so tired. So confused. Is any of this worth it? Royer? Andrea? Getting my place back in the social hierarchy?

My phone buzzes.