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EIGHT
Remi
My chest heaves with the exertion of my breath as the two fucksticks saunter away. With my lips curled in a snarl, I whirl away only for my gaze to collide with the guard who tried to manhandle me from before. His heavy-lidded glance shines with malice and lust, and I dig my nails into the flesh of my palm to keep from screaming. Clearly, I need to watch my ass—literallyandfiguratively—since I doubt if Principal Windsor cares if anyone touches me.
I played a little of my hand when I knocked Carrot Top’s bottom teeth into the roof of his mouth, but damn if it didn’t feel good. This entire situation spins my head. I’ve been kidnapped—not for ransom—to fight for my life. It doesn’t matter how much I’m worth. For once, my money means nothing. The sick fucks in The Gallery don’t want money. They want death. Pain. Carnage. They get off to this kind of shit. A part of me gets it—power is the headiest aphrodisiac of all—but not at the expense of innocent lives.
Although, I’m far from feeling innocent.
Guilt still lingers in the back recesses of my mind, but it’s dulled by all-consuming rage for Professor Vaughn. My brain struggles to keep up with the night’s events. I feel attacked from every angle, and it’s forcing me to question everything and everyone—including myself. Huffing in ire, I give myself a final rinse under the cold spray of the water. The other boys and girls are shivering, but the frigid temperature helps to numb the pain of my body. It also helps to keep my mind alert, even though I feel like I could sleep for days.
Peeking around, I note that the other boys’ dicks are small and shriveled—a testimony to icy liquid sluicing over them—and disgust mixed with a touch of awe fills me at the thought of the two bullies whose cocks were at full attention pressed against me. I shouldn’t be impressed at all. They basically declared their intent to take me against my will, the bastards, but they can try. Even though I fought off the guard, everyone will still underestimate me.
Good.
My survival is hinging on my ability to blindside everyone at this school.
Turning away from the water, I skirt around the perimeter of the room to avoid the male guard who got handsy with me, only to bump into the female guard who’s trigger happy with her taser. A polite ‘excuse me’ bubbles up my throat, threatening to spill out my lips, but I clamp them shut until I taste blood. She doesn’t deserve civility, so I keep my head down and brush past her. I don’t want to be the last one in this room—the guards are just itching for an excuse to abuse their power.
As if the woman next to me can read my mind, she snakes out a hand to pinch my nipple, and I can’t stop the squeak of surprise and anger erupting from my mouth. Her fingers squeeze together cruelly, but I’m past the point of feeling pain. I don’t know why her audacity shocks me, but I quickly realize she’s looking for a reaction—and I refuse to give it to her. Her breathing hitches as she presses harder, and she shifts, her inner thighs clenching.
The bitch is getting off to this.
My eyes lock with hers, and I arch a brow, conveying that I refuse to back down. Eventually, she steps back, letting her hand fall away as the guard assesses my body without an ounce of discreteness. I seem to pass her inspection because she waves me forward with a slap on the ass, handing me a folded towel with school-issued clothes laying on top. A glare narrows my eyes in warning, and the woman chuckles, finally getting something out of me. Mentally, I flip her off but scurry ahead, away from the See You Next Tuesday. There will be time to get even but now’s not it.
Another doctor waits outside the door and checks to make sure my bandages are still in place and that the bleeding is staunched. I nearly snort at the ludicrousness of his actions but realize Principal Windsor needs us alive and healthy for whatever else he has planned. If only the damn thing would become infected just to spite the douchebag—although I’m certain he wouldn’t give two fucks if I had to fight with a festering wound—that asshole is operating on a whole other level of Darwinism.
Assured that I am not going to bleed to death, the doctor hands me off to yetanotherguard, who grazes his beady eyes over my bare skin. I try to ignore his obvious stares as he leads me back down the long hall where I walk buck ass naked except for the small hand towel given to dry my body that’s doing nothing. Luckily, the area is devoid of other students, or even guards for that matter, except for my current escort. At the staircase, he rounds it, silently signaling for me to follow him up the never-ending steps. They are exactly like the ones leading up to Bitterwood, and the memory of crawling up the bloodied marble makes my eyes cross. A dizzying nausea sweeps through my frame, and I clutch the hand railing to keep myself upright. Snapping my spine straight for the one hundredth time tonight, I force myself up the stairs.
Inhaling deeply, I focus on moving one foot in front of the other, over and over until I reach the top. A fierce sense of accomplishment sears through me as I do my best to ignore the heated stares from guards and students alike—no matter how much Principal Windsor takes from me, I willalwaysfight back. My newfound strength is enough to have me following the guard briskly from the landing down a hallway to the right lined with doors. There’s another hallway, exactly opposite that mirrors this one, and I wonder if that’s the boys’ side or if Principal Windsor even cares about that anymore. I guess it doesn’t really matter unless I’m being roomed with the assholes back from the showers—nothing could be worse than them—except I’m wrong.
There is a worse roommate, and her name is Bianca.
The guard nudges me into the room before slamming the door shut. I don’t bother checking to see if it’s locked. Even if by some miracle I was able to open it, Principal Windsor isn’t stupid. I’d bet my left tit he has guards stationed everywhere, besides, I’m too worn out to fight—tonight. Bianca and I stare at one another for a beat until we both turn away, pretending the other doesn’t exist. Instead of trying to bore a hole into her brain with my eyes alone, I inspect the room, surprised to find it fairly large with two beds on opposite sides. Bianca took the one on the right, so I give her my back as I walk over to the left. The bed is a queen and looks soft—welcoming—I eye it suspiciously, wondering what horrors lie underneath. Flipping the bed covers over, I spring back, prepared for venomous snakes or stinging scorpions.
Pristine white sheets greet me, and I finger the fabric delicately before snorting in disbelief. Growing up wealthy has given me a certain barometer to measure things in life. I know Egyptian cotton 1,800 thread count when I feel it, and my confusion deepens. On one hand, I understand having a doctor clean our wounds to ensure we can fight in whatever fucked up games Principal Windsor plans, but on the other, I don’t understand any ofthis—the room, the bed. Whirling around, I find a chaise nearby and a small table housing a meager platter of food. If it weren’t for the horrific nightmare of getting to this room, I wouldn’t really know the difference between here and Oakwood.
Of course, the rooms are smaller and shared. Against my better judgment, I sneak a peek at Bianca as I slip on my pajamas—a thin, white silken fabric composed of tiny shorts and a button up, short-sleeved top. She’s already under the covers, turned on her side, breathing evenly, and I wonder if she’s already asleep. At the thought, my body suddenly feels like it weighs hundreds of pounds, dragging me down. My leaden arms can barely lift a few strawberries to my mouth, which I arduously chew before giving up and crawling into bed myself. As I drift off to sleep, a niggling thought creeps in—the doors are locked from the outside, but can we lock them from the inside?
How will Bianca and I keep others out?
My sleepy question is answered sometime later. A sound snaps me out of a very groggy slumber, and my eyes slam open. It’s dark in the room aside from a bit of light emitted by a small lamp neither Bianca nor I turned off, and I have no idea what time it is because there’s no fucking clock in here. From across the room, I spy a figure hunched over Bianca. Instantly, I’m alert, wondering if I can slip off the bed quietly enough to hide, but freeze when I see the person only tucking the comforter more securely around the sleeping girl. They brush a hand down her cheek tenderly, and I know who it is.
“You motherfucker!” I hiss, making Professor Vaughn jump at the sound of my voice.
“Shhh!” His admonishment pisses me off further, and I slip off the bed to give him a piece of my mind, but he marches over, towering over me. “Get back into bed, Remington.” His gruff command takes me off guard, causing butterflies to flutter in my stomach.
“Remi.” My automatic correction seems to surprise the man. He stares down at me, his eyes nearly black in the darkened room. Reaching up, he strokes his thumb softly over my lips. They part under his touch, and my tongue flicks out, connecting with his skin. The slightly salty taste washes over me, and Professor Vaughn presses more firmly into my smaller frame. I suck in a breath when his hard cock makes contact with my stomach.
“Get back into bed,Remi.” His growl is a warning that has the opposite effect on my body and brain. As my knees buckle, giving way, I fall back onto the mattress. Like a virginal sacrifice, I’m spread before him in nothing but silky, white pajamas. Professor Vaughn groans, and I know he’s fighting to hold himself back but I want him closer. Arching my back in invitation, I slowly sweep my hands down my front, curling them into the underside of my inner thighs seductively.
“Knock that off!” This time, it’s more a rasp than a true order.
I chuckle with wicked intent. “Make me.”
Those two words sever his self-control.
Instantly, he’s on top of me, his mouth melded to mine. Although I goaded him into action, his kiss still surprises me—perhaps it’s the spark of genuine lust mingled with my hate—that I still somehow am attracted to the lying bastard. His tongue parts my lips, brutally dueling with mine as I wrap my legs around him, locking him in place. My loud moans echo around us, and he reaches up a hand to my throat, squeezing hard to choke them out, but it doesn’t matter. They accomplish what I wanted—to wake his girlfriend. From the corner of my eye, I see Bianca sit straight up, clutching the covers to her chest as her brain registers what she’s seeing.
I still under Professor Vaughn, and he stiffens before slowly pushing off me to turn and face her. Both their faces are white in horror, and I can’t help the gleefully smug grin that stretches my lips at their pain. Professor Vaughn clears his throat, but no words come out of his mouth. There’s nothing but silence and the strain of his pants where his dick isstillat attention. The man is seriously fucked up, but cuckolding himandgiving him blue balls—priceless—and while my revenge is far from complete, it’s a start.
Eventually, Professor Vaughn just leaves. Bianca’s brown gaze meets mine in irritated resentment, and I beam my smile at her, letting her know the feeling is whole-heartedly mutual. Back at Oakwood, I hoped we could be friends, despite Vaughn, but here at Bitterwood, no one can be my friend. Everyone is my enemy, and there’s no one I can trust but myself. A very small part still simmers in guilt for leaving Bianca behind, but she survived. For now. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, but I do know one thing—I’m getting under Professor Vaughn’s skin, and I intend to burrow even further.
By the time I’m done, I’m going to destroy that man and watch him slowly bleed out.
