Page 89 of Fractured Fates

I feel more apprehension than ever. It’s clear that, if they wanted to, any of these men could destroy me.

Once I think it’s safe, I make my way to the boys’ locker room, hearing the sound of several low masculine voices, whoops of laughter and the slamming of locker doors.

I hover outside. I don’t want to walk in on a load of half-naked jocks. Even if I am a tad curious.

I’ve been there for about five minutes when the door swings open and Tristan pops his golden head out. He spots me immediately.

“You’re late,” he barks.

“I’m not. I’ve been here ages.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing out here? I said to meet me in the locker room.” He grabs a fistful of my shirt and drags me along behind him. His hair is wet from the shower and he’s wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else. I’m treated to the sight of his muscular back, a dark tattoo sweeping over his left shoulder. I’m so busy puzzling over what it is that I don’t think to drop my gaze to the ground as he pulls me inside. As a result I see way more male flesh than I want. Flesh that includes toned ass cheeks and more male genitalia than I’ve seen in my lifetime.

Who am I kidding? I’ve never seen any male genitalia in my lifetime.

Despite my best efforts, my cheeks burn and I drop my eyes down.

The room stinks of sweat, hot showers and deodorant, and steam hangs in the air, clinging to my skin. Tristan swings me around to face him.

“Do you have any idea what a helping-hand does, Pig Girl?”

“No,” I say, eyes focused on his face because I do not want to be treated to a front view of his chest, a chest I know from previous experience is as golden and well sculpted as his back.

“You didn’t think to ask? To do your homework before rocking up here?”

“No,” I repeat.

“We usually start things off with a blow job,” some dude from the corner shouts out. “Want to drop to your knees, sweetheart, and we’ll all line up.”

I open my mouth to tell him that if he comes anywhere near me with his nobbly dick, I’ll split it in two with my magic, but instead Spencer beats me to it.

“Shut up, dickhead.” I look up and find him scuffing the other dude around the back of the head with his hand. I feel something akin to gratitude in my chest until the asshole goes and ruins it. “You want to end up with some swine disease on your cock?”

“Is she sucking off her pig?” Another of the men laughs.

Tristan captures my gaze. “Don’t get your hopes up, Pig Girl. You’re going to be doing nothing nearly as exciting as sucking my cock.”

“Can we just cut the bullcrap and you tell me what it is I have to do?”

He takes a step towards me and the room falls quiet. “A little more respect please, Blackwaters.” He reaches forward and clasps my chin in his hand. I try to twist my face away but he holds my head still. His fingers are calloused and his face so near to mine I can see the pores in his perfect skin and the dancing pulse in his throat. “You don’t talk to me like that, okay? You don’t talk to anyone on the team like that. You’re ours now, Pig Girl. You do as we say. If I tell you I want a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice there on the pitch while I’m training, you make it happen. If Spencer tells you he wants his helmet spotless, you spend all night and day scrubbing and buffing it until it sparkles. If Joe here says the team needs new laces, you thread new pairs through every single boot.”

I stare straight into his eyes. They’re the color of clear morning skies. But now up close I see the ring of darkness circling his irises – dark like night.

His breath smells like weed and peppermint.

“I’m not doing all that crap,” I say simply.

“You want to be expelled?”

I shrug. I’m less certain about leaving. There are some parts of this school I’m loving – having friends, learning how to use my magic – something I’m getting better at each day I’m here. However, there are other parts I don’t love. If I’m honest, it’s only the price on my head that’s kept me from bolting six days out of seven.

His blue eyes flicker from side to side as he examines my face. The malice in his expression has melted away and now there’s only curiosity. I don’t know if that is worse or not. The strange hook in my belly has me wanting to step closer.

“Come on, man,” Spencer moans from the other side of the locker room. “Just give her the goddamn list. We’re meant to be meeting Summer in five.”

Still gripping my chin, Tristan holds out his hand and one of the other jocks, already dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, hands him a scroll of paper.

Tristan shakes it in my face. “This scroll outlines your role and responsibilities. Read it carefully, little piggie. I’m going to be watching you closely.”