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I hesitate for a moment, wondering if following him is a good idea. My tongue flicks out over my lips, and I wince at the fresh coppery tang coating my tongue. I give in, stepping closer to him and letting him guide me wherever he’s taking me. Neither of us say a word, but he holds my hand tightly in his own like he’s worried if he loosens his grip that I’ll slip away until we are in front of an old styled wooden door that’s so out of place with everything else in this modern nightmare of an academy.
Leo looks at me again, questions swirling in his eyes that he has yet to voice before he pushes open the door to the largest open space I think I’ve ever seen. The room is the size of a small apartment. Everything is visible from the doorway and despite the lack of space or opulence of the room, it doesn’t feel cluttered. On the far side of the room is a king cal bed that has moonlight pouring over it from the ostentatious window it’s pushed up against. On the other side is a small, connected bathroom and a converted kitchenette, barely allowing more room than a tiny stove top and mini fridge. There are two sofa lounges situated around a tv with a gaming console sprawled out beneath it. It’s clear that they had been playing recently since the game is still paused. Another small table has been pushed up against the wall not far from it. I love it, but my favorite part is the small pieces I can see of the men that occupy this space.
The side table is overflowing with lyrical pages, handwritten music, with an acoustic guitar leaning beside it which from what I can presume to only be Leo’s. The small table is overflowing in small metal parts that have been pulled apart. Nash is on a seat behind the table using a screwdriver to fit two of the items together. He looks up at us when we walk into the room and replaces the tool for a small white towel turned black in grease and oil stains. Jack is in the kitchen, methodically grabbing and measuring ingredients, as he turns around and flicks on the gas burner. He offers me a slight smile when I catch his eye, but he continues to cook, giving me another moment to soak in what is very clearly a private sanctuary for them.
Leo comes up behind me, brushing my hair behind my ear before whispering for me to take a seat. I’m more hobbling than walking at this point, but I make my way over to the sofa and slowly drop myself down on it, careful not to jostle the many injuries marring my body. Leo comes back over to me, two coffees in his grip and hands one over to me. The whine I let out takes pathetic to a whole new level and I’m expecting him to call me out on it. He doesn’t, which is both refreshing and troubling.
“You can stay here tonight.” Leo’s voice breaks the silence. “There’s no lock on the door, but no one should know you’re here. You’ll be safe.”
I weigh his words carefully but nod in agreement. There’s no where else for me to go at this point. I don’t know how Peyton feels after everything and if I leave to return to Clarke with nothing… I don’t even want to think about what he’d do. I shudder at the thought. Leo, who’s watching me intently, misreads it for me being cold and drapes the blanket hanging off the back of the sofa over my legs.
I give him a watery smile. It’s the best I can do right now without turning into a sobbing mess on the floor, but I’m beyond thankful for what he’s doing for me, what they’re all doing for me, and I don’t understand it in the least. I’m so conflicted about all of this, about why they’re helping me. Maybe guilt? I doubt they expected the girls to take things this far, but if they hadn’t set their sights on me that first day, would things have ended up this way?
Jack and Nash join us then. Jack setting plates of some chicken dish in front of us before sitting on the other sofa beside Nash. He must have gone for a shower because his hair is still damp, and he’s changed into nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that should be illegal, leaving his colorful tattoos on full display. I knew that he was blessed, but this guy could convince a nun to worship his body. I know I’m blatantly staring as I drink in every inch of delicious ink, but if the devilish smirk he’s giving me is anything to go by, he doesn’t care one bit.
I imagine what it would feel like to run my fingers over his skin, my tongue following not far behind. I want to explore them closer, see if I can taste the colors decorating him so beautifully.
“You know, my offer still stands.” He drawls at me. I blink at him, not understanding what he means. It takes a second before my cheeks redden in indignation, pushing my lustful thoughts out of my mind. This asshole is reminding me that he’s offered for me to suck him off tohelp meout. My teeth grind together as I’m picking up my plate before I mumble to him, “Fuck off.”
Nash just cackles like we’re the best of friends and I hear a small chuckle release from both Jack and Leo. The boys chat to themselves as we eat, but I’m feeling too raw to join in, I feel exposed sitting here with them without the buffer of Peyton. After we finish and clean up, Nash is directing me to the shower, and for the first time since I stepping in here I see he has my dance bag slung over his shoulder. On top of it is clearly a man’s shirt and some gym shorts that would look downright indecent on any of these guys, but probably will come just above my knees for me.
I take the offerings with quick thank you, not wanting to let them know the panic I’m feeling about wearing shorts around them. I strip down to nothing and for the first time since I got stoned this afternoon, I take in my appearance. Bruises cover my enter left side and are splattered over my face. Everything hurts and I try not to breathe too deeply to not irritate, well, everything.
I shower and change quickly. The clothes must be Nash’s, as soon as I pull them over my head I’m enveloped in his whiskey and tobacco scent, which my damage is totally loving. I’m freaking the fuck out when I emerge with my dance bag slung low on my hands. I’ve managed to avoid the majority of people seeing the scars on my leg, with the only exception being Clarke, and his reaction to it was enough to deter me from letting that happen again.
Nash and Leo are in front of the tv, controllers in hand playing some racing game, while Jack is sitting on the bed with a first aid kit beside him. He notices my approach and pats the space behind him, which I do without question, curling my legs beneath me. The alcohol wipes burn as they touch the open wounds, but I do my best to not flinch away from him, if not just so he doesn’t bitch me out. Who knows when his kindness will end, and he’ll go back to ripping into me. I remind myself that I’ve been through worse, what’s a little disinfectant in the grand scheme of the shitshow of this day?
“We should take you to see the nurse.” Jack grumbles as he frowns down at the mess of wipes and cloths used to just scrape away the dry blood.
“No nurses. So, this place. Is this your rooms?” I ask Jack.
He just shakes his head at my not-so-subtle change of subject, continuing to clear a particular deep cut under my eye before answering me.
“No, this is the tower. It’s technically off-limits, but everything works, and no one comes up here. Nash and I claimed it our first year here and it’s been ours ever since.”
Ah, right. Peyton had told me that Leo repeated his senior year in high school so that she wouldn’t be without at least one of the guys. Jack had argued he should do it but his father wouldn’t budge, unmoving on Jack immediately going to university. The Vasiliev’s businesses dabble in a little of everything, but their most success venture, according to google, is their airline, and like every other of the multibillionaires in this place and Jack is expected to walk in his father’s footsteps when he graduates.
From what Peyton said, Leo’s situation is a little more complicated. My internet scouting on the Durovic’s came up completely empty, not a single file, article, or blog with the name Durovic attached. It’s like his family is a total ghost. Peyton did mention that Leo won’t be taking over his family business and that led to some contention, but she said nothing more and I didn’t pry further.
“Like a little hideaway?” I ask, my tone playful as he moves to lift my hair off my neck, checking for injury before looking back at me. He gives me a soft look, his eyebrows furrowing slightly and the barest hint of a smile on his face before he says, “Everyone deserves an escape.”
My heart pangs in my chest at those words and I swear he sees it. The furrow in his eyebrow deepens as he continues to stare at me. He’ll never know why those words hurt me so much. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s so right. Everyone deserves an escape, but I’ll never have one. My life is warped, intertwined with dark, damaged people who sold their soul to the devil for knife sports and easy pussy. I say nothing else, and neither does he.
Leo and Nash are laughing loudly, jostling each other while Leo rants about Nash cheating as Jack finishes up on all the marks he can see. I expect him to grab the items and walk away but he hesitates, dropping his fingers to the hem of my shirt, rubbing the material lightly between his fingers like he’s unsure about his next move. “I need to make sure there’s no cuts anywhere else.”
My breath hitches as I take in his request, and hear the indecision in his voice, I feel the same. I can’t help but think about how Peyton would react if she found out. She’s made it very clear that when it comes to her brother, he is firmly unequivocally off fucking limits. Even if the way he’s looking at me right now, like I’m something delicate, to be treated with care, is pushing me to the edge of my control. I swallow roughly and give the barest nod of my head, reminding myself that he’s only doing this to make sure I won’t get an infection from untreated wounds.
He takes in every inch of my exposed skin until I’m left in nothing but my plain black bra. The bra is nothing special, no lace or fancy trims, but the way that Jack is looking at me has a dampness forming in my panties. His touch is clinical as he pokes and prods at the bruises, spending more time the large marks to make sure there’s no split in the skin.
He inspects my shoulders next, running his fingers over my collarbone causing goosebumps to erupt in the wake of his movements. His hot breath fans over my neck as he moves in closer to inspect a particular nasty mark forming just above the swell of my breasts, eliciting a small whimper to escape.
He freezes, looking at me with concern before he realises that it’s not pain that I’m feeling. The ice blue of his darken and his tongue traces the inseam of his mouth before biting into the plumpness of his bottom lip. I want to take that lip into my own mouth, biting it just like he did. Pressure coils low in my stomach and I can feel the heat rising in my face and chest the longer I’m surrounded by him.
I take a shuddering breath when the roughness of his fingers gingerly lowers to the swell of breast, pausing for a moment before trailing down lower, brushing over the hardened peak of my nipple. I moan and he shifts closer into me, his eyes firmly locked on my lips. It takes everything in me not to close the distance and slam my mouth to his, devour him whole. I want to know how he tastes, how his tongue would move against my own.
I remind myself that this is Peyton’s brother and he’s a dick. He doesn’t feel like a dick right now, and he doesn’t feel like Peyton’s brother either. Just Jack. When his nose brushes against my own, I know that I need to break the tension before I do something stupid, like throw myself at him and ruin fucking everything.
“Is Milo doing okay?” This is evidently the wrong thing to ask before Jack lurches away from me like I’ve slapped him and from the corner of eye, I see the other two stiffen. There’s a screeching from the tv before Nash is swearing up a storm and frowning down at his controller like he wants to fight it. Leo grips his so tight that I’m surprised it doesn’t crack. I look back at Jack and he’s giving me a disgusted look, all softness evaporated. His sneer makes me want to flinch away from him, but instead I roll my shoulders and keep his gaze.
