Page 1

REMI

ONE YEAR AGO

No, no, no.

Cortland’s mouth is on mine, his hand on my throat, and I taste the whiskey on his lips. It’s on my tongue, too, making my words slow. Sluggish. Stuck in my head.

“That’s fucking hot.” Chase’s voice, somewhere in the dark.

But I can’t see him. My eyes are closed, my fingers curled into fists by my side, my pulse thrumming too fast.

The humid air of North Carolina’s mid-July causes sweat to drip down my back, strands of hair that came free from my braids sticking to my face.

Cortland pushes me further against the tree, his body engulfing mine, my spine jammed against the bark.

Pulling back to catch his breath, he presses his temple to my own. “Come on, baby,” he whispers, the scent of alcohol flooding my nose, drowning out the way he usually smells like fall. Cedar. A good night.

This is not a good night.

“Let me fuck you.” One hand still on my throat, he trails the other down my black tank top.

Tonight’s the first night I’m wearing it.

For him.

Clothes hidden in a bag in the back of my closet, so my stepdad wouldn’t see.

Cortland’s hand comes to the button of my jeans as I knock my head back against the tree, my knees shaking beneath me, nails digging into my palms.

I should tell him no.

The zipper comes down.

He kisses my neck, tilting my head to the side with his hand. His teeth prick along my skin as he yanks my jeans down.

I shouldn’t have taken those shots.

I should have slowed down when he told me to.

I shouldn’t be here.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, his breath dancing along my neck, his hand down the front of my underwear.

I feel the others coming closer.

Wolves.

“Yeah, she is.” Brinklin’s words.

Cortland’s forearm pins me to the tree, barred across my chest.

I can’t breathe.

I keep my eyes closed as he curls his fingers up, pushing into me, groaning with his brow to mine, his breath dancing along my skin. My body reacts, and warmth floods my core, followed by chilling cold.

My stomach churns.

“So fucking wet, pretty baby.”

I try to press my thighs together, but his hand is there. “Cortland,” I manage to whisper. “Should we be?—”

“Oh, too late for that now,” Chase says, his words causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. “And it’s not just going to be him, Remi. He’s going to share you.”

Pressure builds behind my eyes.

I keep them closed.

Cortland drags his fingers out of me, up along my stomach, beneath my shirt as he shifts his arm, grabbing my hip instead. His other hand continues its path upward, fingers slipping under my gray bralette, circling my nipple.

I take a shaky breath in.

He slides his hand out of my shirt, presses his finger to my lips, tracing my mouth.

I can taste myself. Earthy. My face flushes red, and I’m thankful for the night.

“Let me fuck you, baby,” Cortland pleads, hand tightening around my hip, my jeans to my knees. I couldn’t run if I tried.

Not without falling on my face.

He kisses my neck again, sucking my skin between his teeth, pushing his finger into my mouth. “I deserve it.”

A flash of indignation and something else twists in my core as he nearly gags me with his finger down my throat.

A month. We’ve dated since graduation. Fooled around in his truck in Hyde Park. He’s had his hand up my shirt. His lips on my mouth, tongue down my throat. We’ve seen each other a handful of times, when my stepdad is away for work.

We went to West River together for two years, since he moved from West Virginia to Ellicottville, North Carolina. Star quarterback, I was the quiet cheerleader. We rubbed elbows, talked a lot. But he waited until graduation to ask me out.

Why didn’t I see this coming?

I start to shake, even with my fists clenched at my sides.

Another hand comes to my jaw, and it isn’t Cortland’s.

Chase’s words are in my ear as he forces my head up, my neck arching while Cortland’s head dips down, his mouth along my breasts.

“Let us fuck you, Remi, or we’ll just…” Chase’s fingertips dig into my jawline, and I feel the inside of my mouth pressed painfully into my molars. “ Make you.”

Unbidden warmth churns in my gut.

“Be careful.” Storm Leary’s voice chills my bones. Storm is quiet, brooding darkness. When he speaks, people listen, but I’ve always done my best to stay away from him.

Now, though, no one is listening.

And I heard it, even underneath his warning. Something like desire. A perk of being the quiet one is hearing the things people don’t say. Even with my mind spinning, my brain stalled, I heard it.

He’s going to do this, too.

I whimper again as Cortland tugs down my tank top with his teeth, his mouth over my nipple, biting and pulling at me.

My stomach flips.

Brinklin laughs, a soft sound. “She’s not saying no,” he seems to taunt me.

Then he’s closer.

I sense him, and his fingers come to my underwear, pulling them down. A second later, he must be on his knees because his mouth caresses my thigh.

“ And she smells so damn good.”

Chase bites my earlobe as Cortland’s ravenous mouth takes my other nipple in, sucking and bruising me.

Hurting me.

He knows I’m a virgin and I’m not ready.

He wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t do this.

I do want him, but…

“Cortland,” I whisper, my mouth dry. I feel frozen. Like I can’t even take a breath properly, and my face feels numb and I drank way too much and I rarely ever do.

Stupid child.

My stepdad’s words, reinforced in my head. I’ve never believed him as much as I do now.

“Yeah, baby?” Cortland murmurs against my skin before he closes his teeth around my nipple, tugging hard.

“Come on, Remi, get on your knees for us.” Chase’s words are chilling, but Brinklin’s rubbing something against my thigh that’s hard and hot and…

Another whimper.

“Don’t hurt me,” I whisper.

“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it,” Chase bites back, his hand still painfully gripping my face.

Cortland bites my breast, then straightens, his hands on either side of my hips, under my shirt as he pushes the material up higher, and higher… and higher.

It’s around my throat.

Chase lets go of my face only to grab my arm, force it through my tank. “Get her other one free,” he whispers.

Cortland’s fingers are calloused but gentle as he lifts my other arm up, slowly drags my shirt over it, so it’s only around my neck.

Chase grabs the shirt, twists it hard, so it’s choking me as he yanks me toward him, his mouth again at my ear.

Brinklin is still running his erection over my inner thigh and Cortland’s hands are kneading my breasts, slipping under the cups of my bra.

“On your knees, pretty baby,” Chase sneers, using Cortland’s name for me.

I don’t move.

Cortland runs his thumbs over my nipples. “I want you so much,” he whispers, leaning closer again, and I feel Brinklin’s hand on my ass, grabbing my flesh as he groans. “I want you, baby, I’ve wanted you for so long.”

He presses his lips to mine, his lip ring scraping against my mouth.

I open for him, as if this kiss could save me. As if he’ll remember the hours on the phone. Falling asleep on the line with me when my stepdad was away. Listening to me react to scary movies while he laughed and comforted me.

That’s the Cortland I know.

But do you know him at all? Another voice through my drunken thoughts.

“I’ve waited so fucking long, Remi.” Cortland is pleading, his Southern drawl more pronounced now that he’s drunk and desperate for me.

But he can’t be too desperate because he’s not going to stop.

He runs his mouth over mine, and his hands become more aggressive as he latches onto my upper arms, pulling me away from the tree. I nearly stumble as my pants slip down to my ankles. My eyes fly open but I can see nothing but the gleam of his gray eyes in the dark.

“I need you, baby,” he says again, one hand coming to my wrist as he forces mine to his pants, over his erection. “See?” he whispers, yanking me closer. Chase’s hands are momentarily off of me, but Brinklin is still grabbing my ass behind me, groaning into my ear. “I need you so bad, Remi.”

I try to move my hand, but I’m barely upright.

I feel dizzy, and sick, and my pulse is thrashing in my ears.

Say something. Fucking say. Something.

I open my mouth, then Cortland throws me down. I trip over my own pants, my palms landing in the dirt, breaking my fall, elbows locking up tight, but I don’t feel much at all, as numb as I am.

Still, I see I’m at someone’s feet as I try to catch my breath.

Slowly, my stomach twisting into tighter knots, I look up.

Into Storm Leary’s light blue eyes.

He’s just watching me. At his feet.

I open my mouth to speak, but Cortland’s hand comes around my throat, jerking my head back, and the words leave me.

His other hand is fumbling with my shoes, and his body is so much bigger than mine, longer and stronger and he’s fucking with my laces and I want to tell him to stop, that it doesn’t matter, that he should just get it over with, but I can’t speak.

And when he decides to leave my white Chucks alone, his cock pushes against my entrance.

My entire body is trembling.

My nails dig into the dirt. “I don’t think we should—” Chase’s hand over my mouth cuts off my words as he gets in between me and Storm, palm slapped over my lips.

“We don’t need you to think , Remi,” he whispers, grabbing my face, hard. “We just need you to shut the fuck up.”

“Hey,” Cortland snaps, but that word is so slurred, and his fingers are still tight around my throat, his cock still nudging against my entrance but it’s so dark and he’s so drunk and I’m so… fucking. Confused. “I need you to be a little fucking nicer,” Cortland finishes, his words to Chase.

But then he’s pressing into me.

I try to twist my face out of Chase’s grip. Out of Cortland’s.

They don’t let go.

Pain.

There’s pain.

Tears in my eyes.

Then Cortland’s groan of pleasure, his head pressed to my spine. “Fuck, baby, you feel so damn good.”

Chase grips my face harder, a whimper slipping past his palm.

Cortland doesn’t hear it. He’s fucking me, hard in the dirt. He’s rough and big and uncomfortable as he stretches me and I don’t know what I’m feeling. What I’m doing. What I want.

“Chase.” Storm’s words. I open my eyes.

He’s leaned against the tree they had me pinned against. Watching me. “Let go of her face.”

Chase doesn’t.

He grips me harder.

Cortland groans again, his mouth along my back. “You’re so good, baby. You’re so fucking perfect.”

“Yeah,” Chase sneers, shifting his grip to cup my jaw again, forcing me to face him. “A perfect fucking slut.”

Tears stream down my face.

Cortland doesn’t let up.

I hear the slick sounds of him fucking me and humiliation burns hot in my face.

Chase laughs. “That’s what a slut sounds like, Remi. Dirty and disgusting.”

Cortland runs his tongue over the side of my face, and Chase releases me as Cortland jerks my head to the side so he can kiss my cheek, his chest nearly to my back, the pressure painful. “You’re so good to me, pretty baby.” He licks a line along my jaw. “So fucking good.”

“I wanna know if you made her bleed,” Chase asks as he gets to his feet, pulling down his zipper. “And if you did, make her taste it.”

I look up at him, see his teal and black hoodie.

A wolf on it.

West River High.

And the words beneath it. “Welcome to pack territory.”