Page 16 of Endless Anger (Monsters Within #1)

LUCY

NINETEEN YEARS OLD

I blink at the silhouette shrouding the doorway, then rub my eyes, certain that I’m imagining things.

Surely Asher Blake Anderson isn’t standing in the same room as me, glaring at the boy beside me with his hand on my bare knee.

That’s two birthdays in a row the asshole’s ruined now.

Maybe ignoring him wasn’t a good idea, but since Aurora decided to take Asher’s place with me at Avernia, she spends most of her time suggesting I avoid communication with him. Not that I’ve wanted to reply to anything he’s sent, but still.

The easiest way for me to stop sulking was to just shut him out completely.

He’s been blocked on my phone for months. I wouldn’t have even known he still called or texted if Foxe didn’t harass me nearly every day, begging me to answer him.

Like I give a shit if Asher’s despondency ruins Foxe James’s precious little tour.

The only reason he’s out there having so much success anyway is that he signed to his cousin’s label. His famous cousin, who has nothing but time and money to pour into Foxe’s career .

I sound bitter—and maybe I am. But so far, college is not all it was cracked up to be, and Asher being here is only amplifying that sentiment.

If he really is here. The figure in the doorway hasn’t moved a muscle, and I’m starting to think maybe I’m hallucinating.

What the hell was in that joint?

The guy with his hand on my knee—whose name I can’t recall at the moment—makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. His fingers are cold now, and I reach down to pry them off one by one.

Asher’s brown eyes aren’t totally visible with the bar lighting spilling in from behind him, but I can sense them tracking my movement.

For some reason, my stomach feels hollow. I craved Asher’s attention a year ago, and now I’m no longer interested.

“You’re lying.”

Anger boils inside my body, threatening to explode.

“This room’s occupied,” Sofa Guy says, pushing my hand aside and squeezing my leg.

“Leave.” Asher’s voice is barely audible over the bass bleeding in from the front of Lethe’s, but I hear its deep timbre anyway.

“No,” I reply immediately, like a reflexive defiance. “ You leave.”

Even though I’m not sure I want to be stuck in here with this Avernia student anymore, the battered pieces of my heart still prefer him to my former best friend.

“Yeah.” Sofa Guy scoffs, sliding his hand higher. “Fuck off and find your own place. We’re busy.”

Without saying another word, Asher stalks over to the couch, his arm lashing out before either of us has a chance to process what he’s doing. I assume he’s grabbing for me, but the contact never comes. Instead, seconds later, Sofa Guy is flying off the seat and face-planting on the floor.

He groans, placing his palms on the ground as he tries to push to his feet. Asher fists the guy’s hoodie and drags him toward the door without letting him up.

My skin feels warm, watching the whole thing unfold, and I chide myself silently for it .

Asher isn’t stepping in for my sake. He’s just being a dick.

Sofa Guy’s face squeaks across the floor, and he moans the whole way but seems unable to pick himself up. Asher hauls him onto his hands and knees, then gives him a shove over the threshold, sending the guy’s limbs flailing.

He launches into the wall across the hall, grunting at the impact.

Asher turns slowly back toward me, kicking the door shut with his heel. He reaches behind him, and I hear the lock slide into place, trapping me in the small break room with him.

It’s the first time we’ve been this close since my graduation, and then we barely spoke. I try not to focus on the sweat sprouting beneath my arms or the way my knee is bouncing again as the effects of the weed start to wear off.

“What a change in scenery, pup,” he says finally, sliding his large hand up the wall. Is it possible his fingers have gotten longer since I saw him last? “You can’t hang out, smoke pot, and get groped anywhere back in Aplana. I see why you had to come here so badly.”

Clenching my fists, I get to my feet, ignoring his glare in the low light. Lifting my chin, I smooth my hands down my short plaid skirt and head for the door.

He doesn’t move at first, and I think maybe he’ll let me through.

My fingers close around the doorknob, pinching to unlock it. Freedom is within my grasp, but as soon as colorful neon lights pour in through the crack, Asher’s palm slams into the wood surface right next to my head, closing us in once more.

His clean scent surrounds me, and I hate how comforting I find it. I’m so accustomed to his presence, even after so many months of his absence.

“Let me go,” I grind out, growing more irritated by the second.

“I can’t do that,” he says, his voice lowering as it caresses my ear. “What if he’s waiting to accost you right outside? What sort of friend would I be if I just let that happen?”

“Maybe I wanted to be accosted. ”

“Oh yeah?” With his free hand, he grabs my shoulder, spinning me around. My back collides with the door, and the air struggles to reach my lungs as he presses in closer, leaning his forearm next to my face.

His forehead grazes mine, and I swallow whatever emotion’s trembling in my stomach.

“Tell me what you wanted from him then,” Asher whispers. “I’ll do it for you instead.”

A laugh bubbles out of my throat. “I don’t fucking think so, pretty boy . That ship has sailed.”

“Aw. Off at college for a month, and she already thinks she knows everything.” He touches my chin, tilting my head up.

“I know a fuck of a lot more than you do. Always have.”

“True. Your problem has always been in the application of that knowledge.”

I’m not sure why, but that assessment stings more than anything else.

“Whatever. That’s not even the point. What are you doing? How did you know I was here?”

“Apparently Noelle is still a big enough fan of yours that she felt the need to intervene after months of us not speaking.” His jaw twitches, a slight crack in his formidable armor. “I didn’t know where she was taking me until we were past state lines.”

Pain slices through me, increasing the effects of the earlier stinging sensation. Some sick, desperate part of me—stuffed way down where I can never really hear her—had been hoping he’d come of his own volition.

After all this time and the start of the school year, I’d still been stupid enough to think maybe he’d change his mind.

Turning my head, I break eye and skin contact. He pulls back, though his gaze doesn’t leave my face, the heat of it searing into my cheekbones where I’m sure I’ll be able to feel it for the next week.

“Well, great,” I mutter. “Thank her for ruining my night, would you?”

I twist myself away from his hold, but he comes too, bracketing me in against the door once more .

“Wait a second.” Two of his fingers find my chin again, forcing me to look at him again. “Is that it? You don’t have anything else to say?”

Blinking slowly, I let myself linger on the harsh angles of his face, the warm brown hues of his irises. The sapphire stud in his nostril and the mostly impassive expression he wears.

A strand of inky hair pops out from the mess on top of his head, swinging into his eyebrow. My fingers twitch, eager to push it back, to grab the normalcy his presence provides.

Standing here with him is the first time I’ve felt like myself in months. The first time I’ve felt like I could breathe on my own and think clearly.

Avernia College isn’t what I expected.

It isn’t even really like anyone else said it’d be either. There’s a sinister film that clings to the campus air, sure, but in general, the state of the university itself is just sort of strange. Macabre in a way that’s still somehow trying to pretend it isn’t.

My student advisor swears it’s just the massive change in scenery and that I’ll adapt to the atmosphere eventually. But so far, I’m not convinced.

Even my coming out tonight was only because I’ve spent the first four weeks of classes holed up in one of the libraries, alternating between studying feminist poetry of the eighteenth century and wondering if the floor I like to study on most is haunted.

There’s not much else to do unless you’re in one of the many campus cliques, and those are nearly impossible to break into.

My eyes find Asher’s, and I swallow.

Unless you’re a founding family member. Then it’s practically your birthright, because the organizations want donors, and there’s a very strong superstition among the residents that disfavor from the founding bloodlines will result in the crumbling of their community.

I still can’t believe Asher didn’t tell me about that connection. Instead, I had to find out how deep his family ties go during orientation, when they went over the school’s dark history and all the deaths that have happened on the property over the centuries .

A strange introduction but powerful nonetheless.

The Andersons are the only name on the founders’ statue in the quad that’s been scratched out.

They’re somehow revered and feared at the same time.

“What do you want me to say?” I finally ask, because there’s no way I can broach the subject of his secrets.

Or admit that I get it now—why he didn’t want to come here.

Maybe if he’d been honest about it, I’d have been less offended. Maybe I would have understood and gone wherever he picked.

But he didn’t give me that choice. He just did whatever he wanted, same as always.

“Don’t you—” He cuts himself off, chewing on his lip for a split second.

My eyes trace the indentations his teeth make in the soft flesh. My stomach tenses, and I pretend not to notice.

He releases his lip with a soft breath. “Don’t you miss me at all?”

His thumb smooths over my chin.

Gravity pulses between us, an electromagnetic field of opportunity. Heat expands in my blood, rising as he sways forward, temptation welling in his heavy gaze.

I’ve never seen him look at me like this.

It’d take so little effort to push up on my toes and close the distance. To do what I’ve dreamed of for the past year, after convincing myself the first time in that sunflower field was a hallucination brought on by alcohol.

We never talked about it after. Really, we barely spoke past that night, but I could never tell if things were awkward because of the kiss or because our lives were splitting in different directions.

He taps on my skin, bringing me back to focus.

I shake my head, dispelling the want. Ignoring the strange, almost wistful look on his face. What good will it do me now anyway?

“No. I don’t miss you, Asher. Not even a little bit.”

For a few more seconds, he continues touching me. Staring at me. Finally, his expression drops slightly, something blank replacing the emotion there. His arms fall from the door, releasing me from the prison he concocted, and without another word, I reach for the knob, wrenching it open.

Laughter and loud music spill into the small room. Perfumed air filters in with the warmth from a bar packed with college kids, and I spin on my heels, then slip through the opening.

Because if he can lie, so can I.