Page 15

FIFTEEN

SABLE

A fter Silas fucked me into a regrettable orgasm, I locked myself away, barricading myself from the world in the soft, deceptive safety of Dayton’s room. Day has been kind—too kind, in fact. He brings me food a few times a day, sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to coax me into some kind of conversation. But he quickly realizes I’m uninterested. Each time his words fade into the background, he eventually sighs and leaves me to my silence.

Now, alone again, I sit at the desk, rhythmically striking my pencil against the sketchpad. The graphite slides across the page, but my focus wavers. The sweet, nauseating scent of vanilla from the candle Dayton lit earlier fills the air. It’s so overwhelming I can practically taste it on the back of my tongue. My stomach churns.

“Who the fuck likes sweet?” I mutter under my breath.

Pushing back from the desk, I stomp over to the nightstand, where the candle flickers innocently, its tiny flame dancing in mock serenity. The scent has the nerve to feel comforting, but all I feel is sick. With a sharp breath, I snatch the metal lid, slamming it down on the candle with a hiss of satisfaction as the flame dies instantly.

Walking back to the desk, I glance down at the sketch I had planned to water-color later this week for my portfolio. What was once a whimsical drawing of a little girl standing on a sunlit beach now feels like a mockery of innocence. Her cheeks are puffed out too much—like she’s been stung by a bee. And her right eye refuses to line up symmetrically with the left. I’ve erased that eye thirty-four times, but it refuses to cooperate. Each attempt just deepens my frustration.

Dayton’s room is light and airy, reflecting his personality more than I’d care to admit. The walls are a soft shade of blue, the color of an endless sky on a perfect summer day. His canopied bed takes up most of the space, draped in luxurious, cream-colored linens. He has more pillows than any person needs, scattered carelessly, inviting comfort but offering me none.

The art that adorns his walls is abstract, chaotic, and oddly soothing. I’ve spent hours interpreting the jagged lines and swirling colors—searching for meaning in the brushstrokes when scrolling through my phone has become too monotonous. Anything to distract me from my own thoughts.

I settle back into the chair, the wood creaking beneath me as my fingers absently trace the edges of the sketch. The little girl’s hands clutch the shell too tightly, the object now jagged and dangerous, dripping with an inky black substance that pools at her feet. Her once sweet smile is now a grotesque mockery, twisted and unsettling.

I flip the cover of the sketch pad closed, unable to look at the haunting image any longer. Maybe a walk around the house would help. I’ve been cooped up for too long, hiding, brooding, letting the isolation gnaw at me.

The logical part of my mind knows I need to confront Silas or talk to one of the guys. I can’t keep avoiding them forever. Going back to my dorm seems like the simplest solution, yet the fear of being dragged right back here if I even try lingers at the edge of my thoughts.

I know one thing for certain—Silas won’t have my body like that again. I won’t let him.

The house has been quiet for most of the day. All the boys have afternoon classes, so I take advantage of the peace and cautiously open Dayton’s bedroom door, peeking my head out into the hallway. It stretches out empty and silent.

I step out, my fingers brushing lightly against the cold plaster for support as I make my way down the corridor. The walls are covered in photos—brothers from past generations, parties, sports games, graduations.

The door beside Dayton’s room is slightly ajar, and I push it open to reveal a bedroom vastly different from the carefree energy of Day’s space. It’s dark, the curtains drawn tight. A massive bed dominates the room, meticulously made with dark green bedding. This must be Silas’ room. He’s such a freak about making his bed. There’s a large punching bag in the corner with “DSN” in gold lettering on the side, another telltale sign.

I walk past the dresser, which displays little trophies and other knickknacks. I’m tempted to rearrange them just to piss him off. Beside the balcony door, there’s a weapons rack showcasing a variety of blades and even a few guns. I’ve never been a fan of weapons, but I understand their purpose. So, I leave them alone.

At least I know I won’t have to travel far to get a weapon if I decide to kill him in his sleep.

I back out of the room quickly, my curiosity pulling me toward the door across the hall. It’s closed, but my hand hovers over the knob. I hesitate for only a second before muttering, “Fuck this,” and pushing the door open.

This room is different from Silas’. Immediately, I’m hit with the scent of sweet sandalwood, a subtle mix that’s somehow soothing. It smells like Dayton, but beneath that, something else lingers. Something distinctly Kai.

The bed is low to the ground, the dark gray silk sheets rumpled as if someone had just been lying in them. Across from the bed is a massive desk, almost a command center, with three monitors mounted to the wall. A keyboard and mouse rest on the clean surface, but it’s the bookshelves lining the walls that catch my eye. They’re filled with novels, rows upon rows of them. I wouldn’t have pegged Kai as a reader, but the collection is too large to be just for show.

Suddenly, the door clicks shut behind me, and I whirl around, my heart jumping into my throat. Kai stands there, his dark eyes fixed on me, the intensity in them palpable. His black shirt clings to his torso, showing off the tattoos that snake up his arms. His hair, messy from whatever he’s been doing, falls over his forehead, giving him a rugged, dangerous look.

Before I can react, he strides over, closing the distance between us in two swift steps, and pins me against the wall. The impact sends a few books tumbling from the shelves, but neither of us care. His grip is firm, his presence overwhelming. My pulse spikes as his breath washes over my face.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” he growls, his face is inches from mine.

“I-I was just looking,” I stammer, my voice barely a whisper. His nearness is intoxicating, and I can’t help the way my body reacts to him. My heart pounds in my chest.

“Just looking, huh?” His grip tightens slightly. His eyes bore into mine. “I told Silas to tell you not to come into my room.”

My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and his eyes track the movement, honing in on my mouth. “Do you honestly think I give a fuck what Silas says?” I raise an eyebrow, trying to sound defiant, but my breath hitches in my throat, betraying me.

Kai’s lips curl into a slow, predatory smile. “You should. Might do you some good to listen like a good girl, mahal.” His voice is low and gravelly, sending a delicious jolt straight to my core.

I close my eyes, trying to steel myself against the rush of heat that floods my body, but it’s no use. His words, the way he’s pressed against me, it’s all too much. When I open my eyes, he’s watching me with that same dark amusement, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Are you enjoying this?” he murmurs.

Every nerve feels like it’s on fire.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. “What exactly were you hoping to find in here? Planning to steal something?” His fingers release one of my wrists, only to cup my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. The heat in his eyes is unbearable, and I feel a tremor run through me as his thumb traces the edge of my lip.

I shake my head. My voice caught in my throat. “No... I just wanted to see...”

“To see what?” He releases one of my wrists and cups my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His thumb brushes over my lower lip, teasing it, and I bite down hard to stop the moan that’s threatening to escape. My body is betraying me in the worst way.

“I just wanted to take a look around,” I manage to whisper, barely able to focus on my words with his touch setting my skin on fire.

His smile widens, and he leans in, his lips almost touching mine. “And did you like your self-guided tour?”

A lump in my throat betrays my voice from being able to answer him in time. He chuckles softly, the sound dark and intimate and makes my core flood. “Oh, don’t tell me. Cat got your tongue, mahal?” His fingers trail down my neck, and the pressure builds inside of me. “I want to mark you, inside and out. I want everyone to know you’re mine, and no one else can touch you.”

I swallow hard, my resolve weakening with every passing second.

Kai’s eyes darken with satisfaction as he watches me fight a losing battle. Then, without warning, his lips crash against mine, fierce and demanding. The world around us blurs, dissolving into nothingness as I lose myself in the overwhelming force of his kiss. His hands are everywhere, roaming over my body, setting fire to my skin, each touch leaving a burning trail in its wake.

A gasp escapes me as he presses me harder against the wall, his fingers tangling roughly in my hair. He deepens the kiss, his lips moving against mine with a rough possessiveness that should scare me—but instead, it stirs a need that only he seems capable of igniting.

His hand moves from my hair to my throat, his fingers applying gentle but firm pressure. The sensation sends a jolt to my pussy, and I feel the world narrowing down to just us, to the raw, electrifying connection between us. He squeezes slightly, just enough to make my breath hitch, his eyes never leaving mine.

Just when I think I might break under the intensity of it all, he pulls back abruptly, his breathing heavy and uneven. He rests his forehead against mine for a fleeting second, our breaths mingling in the charged silence. His eyes blaze with hunger, but his control remains ironclad.

Without warning, he releases me and steps back, leaving me breathless and trembling against the wall. The absence of his touch is a shock to my system, and I struggle to steady myself.

“Now get out of my room,” he orders, his voice cold and commanding once again. “Before I change my mind and punish you for coming into my room.”