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Her head lolls back and onto my shoulder, and her arms fall uselessly to her side.
The room goes eerily quiet, and when I look up, I notice the whole class has stopped fighting. All eyes are on me, holding a passed-out Aspen in my arms.
My first instinct is to release her altogether and let her unconscious body fall to the mat, but something has me pausing. I drop my arm from her throat but continue holding her, supporting her weight fully. The concept has an allure I didn’t know I was craving. I don’t know why, but I like cradling her to my chest when she is passed out and can’t defend herself—not that she has a chance against me even when fully conscious.
An odd sense of calmness washes over me. There is something about having this kind of control over her. I’m not only holding her body in my arms; I’m holding her entire life in the palm of my hands.
For the past year, everything around me has been chaos. I couldn’t protect the people I love… I was so helpless. I had no power over anything, but right now, at this very moment, I’m in charge. I, and only I, decide what happens next.
The only question is, what am I going to choose?
6
ASPEN
A sharp sting to my cheek drags me from the darkness of my mind. My eyes are already fluttering open when someone slaps my face again.
This time, it’s hard enough for my head to jerk to the side.
What the hell? It takes me a moment to make sense of what’s happening.
My vision focuses on Quinton’s face, who is scowling at someone to my right. Following his glare, I find Quan—the instructor—kneeling on the ground beside me. His hand is raised, hovering inches from my face. Then I notice Q’s fingers wrapped around Quan’s wrist like he just stopped him from slapping me a third time.
I must have hit my head because there is no way I’m reading this situation right.
Quinton shoves the instructor’s hand away, and the man who is supposed to be teaching us scrambles to his feet like he’s scared of his student.
“She needs to be taken to medical to be checked out,” Quan says.
“She’s fine,” Quinton answers like he’s in charge.
“Yeah, but I still have to bring her ass to medical. Liability and shit. I’m not losing my job over something small.”
“All right, fine. I’ll take her,” Q offers.
“No,” I croak, trying to sit up. My throat feels like someone shoved crushed glass down it. “I don’t need to go to medical. I’m okay.” I’m really not, but the idea of being alone with Quinton has me pushing through my lightheadedness. I can’t imagine what he would get away with if we were alone after what just happened in a room full of people. My best bet is to put as much distance between us as I can.
“Nonsense. I’ll be happy to take you.” Q winks at me.
Asshole.
“I said no.” I push myself up to stand, still a little disoriented. I wobble on my feet, and Q has the audacity to grab my arm. Almost like he’s being a good Samaritan helping me off the ground and not the one that just choked me to unconsciousness. I pull my arm from his grip as soon as I’m on my feet, but the quick movement has my head spinning and making me sway from side to side like a leaf in a storm.
Quinton wraps his arm around my back and pulls me into his side to stabilize me. Whatever game he’s playing, I want out of it.
“Yup, definitely taking her,” Quinton announces.
I want to protest and ask the teacher to keep me here, but I already know he’ll do anything Quinton asks. I press my lips into a thin line and swallow down the words I want to say. Like I’m a child, Q escorts me from the gym and into one of the empty corridors.
“I’ve got it from here,” I snap at him as soon as we’re alone, trying to shrug him off.
“I don’t think so. You need to go to see a doctor and get your head checked, and I need to have the nurse look at my neck where a feral cat bit me and my arms where that same animal scratched me.”
“The only animal here is you. All I did was protect myself,” I growl, wanting to sink my nails into his face.
“Are you sure about that? I could have sworn you were rubbing your ass into my crotch like a cat in heat.”
“You’re delusional.”
“And you’re feisty,” he counters. “Kinda gets my cock hard a little, but not as much as you passed out. I like you better when you’re not talking or moving. Kind of like a doll I can play with.” I can’t believe I ever said he was attractive in any way. I knew that darkness lurked inside of men like him, but I never anticipated it would be directed at me.
