Page 7
The Aftermath
R egret tastes bitter, even when seasoned with revenge. I trace my fingers across ancient leather bindings in Shark Bay’s library tower, my temporary sanctuary from the storm I unleashed last night. The morning after feels hollow, my victory over Belle already tarnished by daylight’s harsh reality check. Below me, students navigate the courtyard like pieces on an elaborate chessboard, unaware they’re being observed from above. The massive gothic windows frame the scene perfectly—privileged lives playing out in miniature, their dramas so important within these walls yet utterly meaningless beyond them. I wonder if Belle and Nicolas have imploded yet, and why the thought brings me less satisfaction than expected.
Students mill about below, their voices carrying up through the rafters in hushed whispers. From my vantage point, they look like pieces on a chessboard, moving in predictable patterns. But I’m no longer sure which game I’m playing or if I’m even a player rather than a piece.
I lean back into a chair, trying and failing to focus on the text before me. Macbeth’s morality is irrelevant right now. I want to hear the gossip and see how Belle reacts. Would she blame herself for Nicolas’s actions? Would she see what happened as a sign that she can no longer trust him?
I chose this spot strategically—the library’s top floor offers a perfect view of the courtyard where Belle likes to spend time with her minions between classes. From up here, I can watch the drama unfold without getting pulled into the cross fire. She hasn’t shown up yet, but the whispers are already spreading. Groups of students huddle together, heads bent close as they share the latest gossip. Every few minutes, someone glances up at my window, then quickly looks away when they catch me watching. It’s obvious they’re talking about me, and whatever has been said, it’s not good. Not for me.
I can practically imagine their conversation going something like this:
“Did you hear the video is spreading to social media now? I saw it in someone’s story! God, I can’t believe Nicolas was fucking her in the bathroom.”
“What about her? She fucked him willingly.”
“Look, I know she’s messed up in the head, but I wouldn’t touch her. She’s crazy, and someone needs to put her in her place before she goes too far.”
Acid churns in my stomach. The whispers will spread like poison through these hallowed halls, each telling more twisted than the last. I’ve heard how stories evolve at Shark Bay—how quickly “she kissed him” becomes “she fucked him in front of everyone.” But let them talk. My own reputation can survive anything. I’ve built the cracks and fractures, weathered the storms, and embraced the dark. I’ve made myself into something that thrives in their hatred and feeds on their fear. If they want to see a monster, I’ll give them one.
The victory feels different in the harsh light of day. Last night, high on revenge and adrenaline, I thought I’d finally shown Belle who really holds the power here. But now… Now all I can think about is the way Alex used to look at me. Like I was something precious, not this hollow thing I’ve become. The memory of his touch burns hotter than anyone else’s ever could. I crave it like a drug, chasing a high I can never find. But I’ll keep trying. Anything to numb the pain and keep him away.
A shadow falls across my desk, jolting me from my thoughts. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Erik. The air changes when he’s near, becoming charged with something I can’t quite name. His reflection appears in the window beside mine, those unsettling gray eyes fixed on my face. They remind me of storm clouds gathering on the horizon, promising chaos. He moves like a predator, all careful grace as he claims the chair next to mine. He smirks and sets down a stack of books. “Quite the show you put on last night.” He more or less repeats what he said to me yesterday.
“If you’re here to lecture me about morality, save it,” I say, keeping my voice carefully neutral. But my fingers betray me, drumming an anxious rhythm against the spine of the book. How fitting. “I’m not in the mood.”
“No lecture.” He leans back, studying me with that unnervingly direct gaze. There’s something almost clinical in his observation, like he’s dissecting my every movement. “Just wondering, now that you’re fully sober and over it, if it was worth it.”
The question hits harder than it should, probably because I’ve been asking myself the same thing all morning. The satisfaction of revenge has already faded, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste I can’t seem to wash away. My fists clench under the table. “Are you just trying to convince me of something else? Maybe to come to your room and suck your big cock?”
His expression shifts almost imperceptibly—disappointment maybe, or something deeper. “No.” He smiles politely, though there’s a hint of venom lurking beneath the surface. “I already told you I’m not interested in that.”
The rejection stings more than it should. I’m used to being wanted, even if it’s just for my body. Being seen—really seen—is far more terrifying. I tilt my head and raise my brow. “Don’t tell me you’re gay.”
Erik reaches for my hand and sets it on his crotch. His cock twitches under my touch.
He chuckles softly. “Does that feel like I’m gay?” His pants are tight, his eyes trained on my face, and my thoughts are too scattered to pick them up again. It’s all a game with him, and so far, I’m at a loss to counter his strategy. Something about the way he looks at me, the way he speaks to me… everything feels like a tease, and that scares me. The feeling builds, heavy in my chest, and I know, every instinct tells me that I must strike back.
I stare at him, memorizing the flecks of golden light in his eyes, the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. I’m not sure what I’m searching for or what I’ll do when I find it. But I have a good sense that I will find him, and even if he’s not searching for me, I have a hunch he will find me, too.
“Fine,” I say and yank my hand back. “You’re not gay.”
“Damn right, I’m not,” he replies, no sense of triumph in his words, no hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
“What do you want then?” I demand, letting my frustration slip through my usually careful control. “Why are you here?”
He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Maybe I just want to be friends.”
I study his face, searching for any trace of deception, but find none. Could he really be that na?ve? Or is he trying to manipulate me, too? Either way, I’m not sure I should trust him.
“How about we go to your room instead and get down to business?” I suggest. His gray eyes seem to reflect the shadows of his secrets, and the intimacy of the moment sends goose bumps down my arms. “Bet you haven’t been dicked down in a while.”
His expression doesn’t change, but his muscles tense, and I know I’m onto something. Maybe this is the key to understanding him, unlocking the real reason he was sent here.
He clears his throat, breaking the tension between us. “You must really think I’m stupid,” he says. His voice has dropped an octave lower, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” I retort, my tone teasing. “Now, are you going to show me how rough and hard you can fuck me?” I lean in closer, letting my breath ghost across his neck. I can smell his cologne—something expensive and dark, like aged whiskey and leather-bound books.
“I can be gentle,” he whispers against my ear. The promise in those words makes my thighs clench. There’s something more dangerous about gentleness than violence—it threatens to undo all my carefully constructed walls.
I reach out and cup the front of his jeans again. His cock is rock hard, straining against the material. He lets out a long sigh and moves my hand away, gripping his own erection. “Don’t,” he warns, and there’s something about his intensity that makes me want to submit.
And I hate it. Hate how he has this control over me.
“Okay, you aren’t gay. You aren’t interested in me. Then please, leave.” My tone comes out harsher than I expected, but that doesn’t stop Erik. With a soft chuckle, he leans back in his chair.
“I’m not interested in one-night stands,” he says, and that spark in his eye catches fire. “So, if you’re looking for a toy to play with, I’m not that.”
“That’s not what this is.” I bite out the words, willing my voice not to shake. What is he doing to me?
“Then what’s it about?” He cocks his head to one side, studying me. Those gray eyes see too much, and I can’t hide the truth from him.
“Fun,” I say, trying to stay calm, trying not to let my rage and loneliness seep into my words. “Distraction.”
He’s too close, his scent like warm cinnamon and a cold breeze. My breath catches in my throat, and something swells inside me, longing mixed with danger. How could he make me feel this way?
“You want fun?” He leans closer, his breath hot against my neck. “You want distraction?”
“Yes.” I bite my lips, hating how weak I sound.
“Have you seen the island yet?” he asks, the question so abrupt that it takes me a moment to comprehend.
“The island?” I repeat.
He grins. “Yeah. It’s beautiful. I hike around it all the time.”
“You’re actually being serious?” I didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but I’m used to everyone either being overly cautious or overly reckless. Erik strikes me as neither.
“Dead serious,” he promises. “I promise you’ll love it. The view from the south cliff is amazing.”
“Is this a fucking trick?” I throw back at him. “If you’re not interested in having fun with me, what’s the point of us spending time together?”
“Isn’t that something friends do?” he questions. “Spend time together?”
I pause for a second. “Are we friends?”
“We’re getting there,” he replies. “I mean, it would help if you stopped trying to seduce me all the time. While I’m attracted to you, I’m not digging your attitude.”
His brashness stuns me into a new, angry silence.
“It’s settled.” He stands up and grabs his books. “Meet me in the courtyard after class.”
And then, he turns and walks away.
“Fuck you!” I yell after him. Erik turns and winks before disappearing down the hall, out of sight, and leaving me with more emotions than I can process.
Belle chooses that moment to make an appearance in the courtyard, a swarm of minions flanking her on both sides. Her back is straight, chin held high. I know better than anyone that appearances can be deceiving, but to an outsider, she appears confident and put-together. Her uniform is impeccable, not a hair out of place. Yet, I see the pain in her eyes, and it makes me want to hurt her all over again. That bitch deserves that and much more.
I smile to myself and collect my books. I’ve seen enough. Though I’ve temporarily taken down my enemy, I’m not delusional to think I’ve won the war. No, this was just one battle. Belle and I still have a long way to go until one of us gives up.
As I walk out of the library and toward my final class of the day, my thoughts turn to Erik. There’s something magnetic about him, something that pulls at the darkest parts of me. It’s tempting to show up to his little excursion. But can I really trust him? Trust is a luxury I haven’t allowed myself since Alex. Would he really take me to see the island, or is this just another tactic to gain my trust? He’s already told me he doesn’t want to be a one-night stand, but if he’s not interested in me, what is he after? And why does his refusal make me want him even more? The questions turn over and over in my mind as I try to read his motives. The truth is, I know nothing about him. Not really. But maybe that’s what makes him so dangerous and so irresistible. I should decide against going with him, but as always, my curiosity wins out. This time, I’ll let it lead me wherever it wants to go.
Who knows, maybe he proves capable of surprising me. After all, the most fascinating monsters always do.