Page 61 of Twisting Beauty

“The name is Rua.”

“The truth,” he growled as he finger fucked me like he hated me.

“That,” I gasped, as my body careened recklessly out of control, rocking back on his fingers, “that is the truth.”

“Wrong answer.”

He pulled his fingers out of me, my climax cutting off, a whimper leaving my lips, my legs shuddering as my pussy clamped around air.

“Okay,” I blurted out. “Wait. I’ll tell you the truth.”

He stilled, then tilted his head, waiting.

My heart slammed in my chest, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “I hate what you make me feel.”

His eyes darkened. “Better,” he said after a moment. “Real.” His jaw shifted. “But not what I asked.”

He studied me for a long moment with those cold, unreadable eyes.

I bit my lip to stop myself from begging.

“Someone sent you,” he said almost to himself.

He leaned in, whispered something in my ear, then pushed back, leaving me there, aching, unsatisfied, dripping, in front of the party I couldn’t cry out to.

It was hours before he returned to release me. Hours that I had to stand there, glaring at him as he enjoyed his fucking party, as he lifted his glass to me in a toast and drank with a smirk on his face, my legs trembling, pussy aching, breath jagged as I prayed not to be noticed.

And his final words to me echoed in my ear.

Both a threat… And a promise.

“Next time… you’ll beg to tell me.”

For the next few days, the whispers followed me through Ravenwood like smoke.

Courtesy of Aoife’s little gift to me. Her pregnancy rumor was the latest poisonous gossip, and everyone here had drunk deep.

Lorcan stepping in between me and Elias hadn’t helped. Whatever private war burned between them, they’d let it spill out where everyone could see, and because my name had already been dragged through one story, the college was busy writing me into this one as well.

The logical conclusion drawing itself in the air, ugly and inevitable: Lorcan, Elias, and me supposedly having been pregnant.

I could feel their whispers before I heard them, that particular crawl of too many eyes pretending not to look, the hush that rolled ahead of us down the corridor like a wave pulling back before it broke.

Half the college was staring. The other half was pretending not to, all those carefully angled shoulders and studiedly casual glances still managing to drag across my skin like filth.

“Christ, it’s worse today,” Nuala said as she glared at yet another passing group of whispering students. “They’re practically vibrating.”

“Let them.” My eyes stayed fixed on the path ahead. If I didn’t look, I could almost pretend the weight of their attention wasn’t pressing down on my shoulders like something physical.

“Guess it didn’t help with whatever happened between Lorcan and Elias,” she said, a weight to her words.

I said nothing.

Nuala’s attention settled on me, precise and patient as a scalpel. “So. Lorcan, huh?”

“There’s nothing to say about Lorcan.”

“Right.”