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Her eyes scan over the space, her long fingers, tattoos on those too, and the backs of her hands, she reaches up, brushing her heavy bangs out of her eyes. The girls that came in before her are giggling, turning back for her, grabbing at her hands, but it's like they barely register as her eyes home in on my boy Lynx.
I glance at King, his jaw tense like he's pissed the fuck off, but there's that familiar destruction glinting in his steely gray eyes as he watches her too.
Lynx blows out a breath, rolling his shoulders beneath the thickness of my arm, and it feels like he wants to shrug me off, but he doesn't and I'm thankful.
I missed you.
I want to scream it at him, tell him not to fucking leave me again, but instead, I stay quiet, watching.
And then the unknown girl is walking off with her friends, heading towards the kitchen, Lynx's eyes following her. My eyes following his, and Raiden King? His eyes watch us fucking all.
Chapter 5
POPPY
Marijuana floods all of my senses even as I knock back something called a fireball. Sickly cinnamon scorches my throat, the heat flaring through my chest like jagged fingernails. I don't smoke, can't, really, I just sort of choke on anything I attempt to inhale. But I like the smell, and the amount of it inside this house, a thick haze steadily lifting towards the ceiling, is enough to make my toes tingle inside my boots.
The tops of my sticky-out ears heat, and it's like I can feel his eyes scoring my skin.
My new roommate.
The stranger who pulled me into his arms, halted my panic attack and grounded me in a bad trip. I'm not sure anyone has ever done that for me before. Cradling me in their arms like they wanted to be there.
With me.
But when I woke up, his heavy, deep breaths puffing against the side of my neck, his arms crossed like lead restraints across my chest, his heart drumming easily against my back. I felt safe, so I snuck away.
I tend to get… attached.
Or, rather, I did, once, and look where that got me.
Leaving him sleeping in my bed. I grabbed some clothes and my washbag, stuffed them under my arm and dashed across the hall to Bonnie and Emma's room. Hiding, yes, from this gentle, giant, brute looking stranger with bleached blonde hair and warm red-brown eyes. Large hands, thick fingers, soft skin and-
I stiffen, a shiver tearing its way up my spine, anxiety, again, starting to cloud around my head, making my ears feel like they're stuffed full with cotton wool.
Blindly, I extend my arm, empty red cup cracking in my tightening fingers. Bonnie grins wide with perfectly straight white teeth, she flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder and refills my cup with something else. I don't care what it is as I lift it to my lips, throw my head back and let the alcohol burn its way down my oesophagus. The sounds of the room slowly reconnecting with my brain as I plant the empty cup down on the dark wooden topped island.
Fingers curling over the edges of the surface, I glance down at my purple painted nails, blanching knuckles. I squeeze harder and harder, pale skin whitening, whitening and-
There's scalding heat over my exposed back, nothing but thin straps of my crop top crossing over my spine. My head is down, eyes glazing over as I continue staring at my hands, unseeing. And then lips are brushing my ear, stubble ruffling my hair. The scent of beer is thick in my nose as their humid breath assaults my neck.
“You're new,” the male voice hums, and I don't move, don't look up, as a thick arm brushes mine, his front connecting with my bare skin, damp cotton of his shirt the only thing separating us. “I'm Chris,” he half purrs in my ear and I grit my teeth, heat flushing up my throat.
“Can you step back, please?” I ask quietly, uncomfortably, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, pressing myself further into the counter.
Chris huffs a laugh against my skin, closing the sliver of space between us and my insides knot, a heaviness building in my chest. He lifts his hands, planting them on the wooden counter either side of my own. Head dipping closer to my cheek, I tremble, penned in. Being trapped has my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. I flex my hips forward, pressing myself painfully into the edge of the counter to try and get away, and it's a mistake because he instantly follows.
“Please,” I try again, “Please, get off of me,” my voice is barely audible, but it's loud enough for him to hear me clearly.
“Shh,” he hushes, suppressing another huffing laugh.
His hips continue pinning mine in place with something like mockery as he curls himself further over my back, his hard cock flush with my arse.
My breath is shallow, and I hear the girls I came with, who I don't really know, giggling between themselves around us like this is all totally okay.
He is suffocating me, stealing my air, and I don't know how to get him to leave me the fuck alone.
“Let me show you upstairs,” he slurs, grabbing my wrist overly hard.
