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He starts up the projector, gesturing for a student near the front of the room to dim the lights.
As the film starts to play, the door at the back of the lecture hall opens. I hear quiet footsteps, and then someone walks down the row where I’m sitting and settles into the seat beside me.
Without even looking over, I know who it is. I’ve learned to recognize his scent by now, as well as the way his very presence seems to disturb the atoms in the air, making every room he’s in seem to shrink.
Malice.
He’s sitting right next to me, but he seems almost too big and intimidating to be in this setting. It’s hard to imagine him taking notes or answering questions from Professor Holborn, and I swallow hard before glancing over at him. Even though this campus is ‘my turf,’ so to speak, I know that doesn’t mean anything. I feel just as intimidated as always when it comes to Malice.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper, trying not to draw attention to us.
“Vic looked into that guy who was following you,” he tells me, his voice low. “He doesn’t have anything to do with that night. He was just a fucking creep.”
I glance over at him in the shadowy lecture hall. “What do you mean, a creep?”
“The asshole had two sexual assault charges on his record, a domestic abuse charge, and a restraining order against him. He wasn’t trying to get info from you. He just wanted something else.”
My stomach clenches, tightening into a knot. So my pursuer didn’t want to ask me about the guys or Nikolai… he just wanted to attack me or rape me. I swallow hard, replaying everything that happened last night in my mind.
What would have happened if I hadn’t gotten away from that guy? And what might happen if he decides to come after me again?
Malice’s eyes are on me, and as if he can read my thoughts, he shrugs.
“Ransom and I took care of him.”
He says it with the same casual bluntness that he might say ‘Ransom and I went to buy milk,’ but his words send a shiver down my spine. I might not know these men well, but I’ve learned a lot more about them than I ever expected to, and I already know they’re intimately acquainted with violence.
Did they kill the man who tried to attack me?
I can’t decide if that thought is terrifying or reassuring.
“I’m glad it wasn’t anything to do with the secret I’m keeping,” I murmur to Malice, deciding not to ask for clarification about exactly how they took care of him.
“You’reluckyit wasn’t anything to do with that,” Malice shoots back, and I know what he means. He’s made it perfectly clear that his ruthlessness will extend to me if I betray him or his brothers.
“If I’d known it was just a random guy, I wouldn’t have bothered you with it,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I barged into your place last night.”
Malice snorts, and I shoot him a glance out of the corner of my eye.
“Areyou sorry?” he asks, raising a dark brow.
I don’t know what he means at first, and I frown in confusion.
“I saw the way your pupils got all blown out,” he whispers. “How long were you standing there watching?”
My shoulders stiffen, and I nearly choke on my next inhale. Except for that brief moment at the end of the night when he asked about what he’d walked in on, Ransom mostly let me pretend it hadn’t happened. I was sort of hopingallthe brothers would do the same, but I should’ve known better than to expect that from Malice.
“I know you were turned on,” Malice continues, leaning toward me as he speaks in a low voice that trickles down my spine. “You liked watching it, didn’t you? Me fucking the shit out of some girl. You enjoyed it. Have you got a voyeurism kink under that innocent little face?”
I don’t answer him, but my cheeks feel like they’re on fire. I should be pissed off at him for saying stuff like that to me, but instead, I can feel my body reacting. Arousal surges through me at the memory of Malice pressing that woman down on the couch, taking what he wanted from her. My heartbeat feels loud in my head, and every nerve ending feels charged and ready to respond to the slightest touch.
As if Malice can sense it, he reaches over and rests a hand on my thigh.
“Oh…”
The word slips out of me, half gasp and half sigh, and I hold myself rigid in my seat. My notebook is open on the fold out desk in front of me, a pen grasped in my hand and poised over the paper, but I haven’t taken a single note. The video plays on the large screen at the front of the lecture hall, but all I’m aware of is the heat of Malice’s palm on my leg.
“Should I find out?” he murmurs. “Should I see if thinking about me fucking her makes you wet?”
