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I don’t know if it’s the softness in her voice or the words themselves, but something dark kicks to life in my chest. “There’s no need to thank me. I’m not saving you, kitten. If you haven’t noticed, when I adjust your hazement, I’m not giving you a break. Everything the other goats do, you do too—with an added twist.” I look down at her. “You reek. Clean up and wait for me.”

She nods and takes a step back, grabbing her backpack and scurrying out of the room.

I’m not the only one that watches her go—Royer’s gaze follows her from his spot by the door, forehead creased in curiosity. He knows well enough not to question me, but I sense the suspicion. It’s a lot of interest in one goat—one he should have recognized if he wasn’t so focused on his own getting his cock wet and making this the most insane gauntlet Zeta Sig has ever seen.

I cross the barn, preparing my excuse along the way, but one of the members, Bushwacker, rushes up to Royer with a sheet of paper.

“I updated the schedule with the added hazement,” he says, pushing his wild, curly hair back.

Royer skims over the details and a slow grin spreads across his mouth. “Yeah, looks good. Tomorrow night. Midnight.”

No one told me about a change in the schedule.

“What is it?”

Bushwacker shoves the paper at me, and I see the next item on the schedule.

Fucking hell.

“Seriously?” I ask, because this is one of those things that will get us tossed for sure if word gets out. “You really want to go there? I mean, the pledge cocktail is basically an urban legend. No one knows if it’s even actually been done.”

“Maybe it is, but not anymore. I told you, bro,” Royer says, “no holding back. This year is going to be epic.”

He’s right, of course. It is epic, hilarious, and downright nasty all at once. But it’s also going to be a problem for me and Reagan. There’s no way she gets through this without revealing her true identity.

“You better be sure this isn’t going to backfire,” I tell him, but I know it doesn’t matter. As deep as I’m in it with Reagan, Royer is just as obsessed with the gauntlet.

All of this is on my mind when I get upstairs. Warm, soapy, moisture lingers in the air—the scent of my shampoo and bodywash. Masculine and spicey. The lights are off, other than the glow from the bathroom. I peer in, but she’s not in there. What the—?

Then I find her. There. In my bed. Curled up in a tight ball. She looks like a kid; her features softened in her sleep, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced. Her legs are bare, the hem of her—fuck!my ratty, worn sweatshirt grazing her upper thighs. Kitten thought she could borrow my clothing to snuggle into. Does she like my scent? My dick swells and I take a step forward. It’s going to be a pleasure to take that right back off.

She sighs, stirring slightly, grabbing the pillow next to her. She yanks it close to her chest and clutches it protectively—a shield against the bad things—badmenlike me.

I’d planned on coming up here and making her pay for getting her out of that jam downstairs. Forcing her to do her share of the hazement but looking at her like this… it feels wrong to fuck with her right now.

I grab a pillow off the bed and a blanket, then stretch out on the couch. My legs are too long, forcing me to the side, positioning me and Reagan nearly face to face. I drift off, staring at her, taking in her features; those eyelashes, those lips, that fucking delicious mouth, pushing aside the worries about tomorrow’s challenge.

I’ll figure something out. I always do.

14

Reagan

The soft padding of the bed is the first thing I notice when I wake. It’s comfortable, warm, and my muscles don’t ache. It’swrong.I jolt up, blinking at the room, paranoia creeping up my spine, and try to put the pieces together. Last night had been a close call with Rat trying to force me into the shower with the other guys. Miller stepped in and sent me to his room to clean-up and wait for him. I did what he said. I knew better than to test him, but he never came. I got in the bed just to rest for a minute—to wait for him and whatever punishment he planned for me. After that is blank.

I look down and see that I’m in the same clothing as the night before. Miller’s sweatshirt and the boxer briefs I stole from his drawer. Reaching under the shirt, I touch my chest and it’s also clean. Whatever happened, Miller didn’t mess with me. I wish that made me less apprehensive, but I don’t like owing him any debts. I know he’ll extract payment when he’s ready, and it will be worse than before.

I glance over at the couch and see a bunched up pillow and rumpled blanket. Is that where he slept? Doesn’t seem right.What time is it?I search for clock on the nightstand and stop. A plate sits on the table with a glazed donut and a note propped against it. In scrawled handwriting I read,Eat up, kitten. Tonight’s going to be a doozy.

Ignoring the donut, I get out of bed. I take a second to straighten it up, giving the impression I wasn’t there, although clearly, that’s more for my benefit than anyone else. I pull on the jeans from the day before but keep on Miller’s sweatshirt. My other one has bits of hair in the collar from the barbershop, and… I pull the shirt up to my nose. It smells good. Clean.

A flash of Miller’s face between my legs brings a flush of heat across my body.

Okay, maybe wearing the shirt isn’t a good idea.

I strip it off, putting back on my dirty shirt. Footsteps sound up and down the hall. An alarm in the next room keeps going off every ten minutes. Snooze button, I guess. I’m not sure how to get out of here—when it’s okay to leave. I have two hours before my next class and a pile of homework to do. I haven’t even been thinking about all the schoolwork I’m falling behind on. My eyes fall on the desk in front of the window. Miller’s laptop and a few binders are stacked on the edge. I make a little space and pull out my assignments. There’s a speech in my marketing class, a paper in language arts, and three videos to watch for Spanish.

We turned our devices in at the beginning of the week, so I snag Miller’s laptop. At least I can get the videos watched. A few quick keystrokes later I’m in my class website, learning how to conjugate verbs. Or trying.