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Ezra hands over my latte and my sandwich. I nod my thanks as the doors slide open and I slip past Fielder to step out of the too close quarters. I need space. So much space.
As I move farther onto the top story of the ferry, it becomes increasingly obvious that I am not getting space. The murmurs of other students reach my ear and I risk a glance over my shoulder to find all four of them trailing after me. No one approaches us, but some students call out to them in greeting and a few eye me like they’re trying to figure out if I’m being followed because I’m in trouble or under their protection or just an unhappy coincidence.
I’m hurrying, trying to create even more space between us, as some students finally move to knock fists, with the men following me. If they stay distracted long enough, then maybe I can disappear.
I roll my eyes at that idea. I am, after all, on a ferry. It’s not like I can run away from them. Besides, I’m hungry and want to enjoy my sandwich, not spend the next two hours dodging them.
Which, I suppose, means that I’m going to have to tolerate their company until we make it to the island and I can retreat to the girls’ dorm. I’m not foolish enough to think that they won’t dare follow me there, but it will be harder for them.
I round a corner, heading toward a little alcove where Merritt and I sat together, and then bounce back as I run into a hard chest. My sandwich goes flying. The lid of my latte shoots off at the impact and warm liquid splashes all over the front of me, soaking into my coat and shirt.
“What the fuck!” A voice growls. Fuck, it’s a voice I recognize. Fucking Kelvin Thompson. An asshole who took particular joy in yelling sexual comments at me after The Consequences revealed I have an ASMR channel. Nothing wrong with it, and I’m not ashamed, but people have some fucked up ideas of what ASMR is and so it was decided that I must be some kind of soft core porn star, even though my videos consist of tarot readings, making up horoscopes, and positive affirmations. I don’t even do mouth sounds.
Kelvin’s lips pull into a smug little smirk when he sees me dripping with coffee. “Oh, look, it’s the little slut porn star. I heard you’d dropped out.”
I glare at him. “Well, obviously not. Because here I am.” I move around him, eyes scanning for a restroom where I can try to clean the coffee from my shirt, but his hands on my shoulders stop me.
“You aren’t going to apologize?”
“For what?”
He releases one of my shoulders to point at a tiny speck of coffee on his shirt, hardly noticeable. I roll my eyes and motion to the front of my on shirt, stained beyond saving. “Really? You think I owe you an apology?Really?”
He steps closer to me, trying to intimidate me with his bulk, but I don’t budge an inch, tipping my head back to maintain eye contact. Heck, I’m tempted to lean forward and try to get some of the coffee soaking me to transfer to him. Asshole.
“Yeah,” he says, tightening his grip on my shoulder, painfully. “Really. How you gonna make it up to me?”
A shudder rolls through me. Why do men think they can pull this shit? Why do they think that they have any right to force women to do anything?
“You ran into me, Kelvin. I’m not apologizing, or giving you a blow job to make up for it.”
His fingers tighten before shifting, sliding up until he’s gripping my neck. I freeze. He wouldn’t do something here. There are too many people. But then the students of SSU have proven repeatedly that they will stand by while something awful happens. “Verver was right. You are a tease, aren’t you?”
My whole body shuts down. My vision blurs and goes spotty as my lungs suddenly seize. I can’t breathe. With just a few words, Kelvin fucking Thompson thrust me back onto that forest floor, a heavy weight pinning me down, fighting to keep Gabe away from me.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I’m ripped away from Kelvin, pressed into a pair of muscular arms as Gideon steps between me and the asshole who’d reduced me to a panicky terrified mess.
Kelvin gives an uncomfortable laugh. “What? Nothing, man. That trash just ran into me, tried to leave without apologizing for it.”
I’m trembling, even as Ezra holds me closer, hands smoothing over my arms, trying to bring warmth to a body that seems to have none. “I got you, Ro. We got you. You’re okay,” he murmurs against my hair, turning me into his body so I can bury my face in his chest. “We got you.”
One of them had said the same thing right after Gabe. One of them had told me not to worry, that they got me, that I was safe with them. I didn’t believe it then, and I sure as hell don’t believe it now, but it doesn’t stop me from pushing farther into him as Gideon says, “so you thought you’d what? Wrap your hand around her throat and force an apology from her?”
Kelvin says something that I can’t fully hear and I have the impression that whatever it is, it was not the right thing. Ezra tenses under me, his body swaying forward like he’s considering lunging at the bastard who put his hands on me. But he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps holding me, arms tightening as his chin rests on top of my head.
“Let me make something clear to you, Thompson.” Oh, goody, Fielder has joined the party. “If you ever lay a hand on Rosalind again, you will lose that hand. Any portion of you that touches her will be removed. Do you understand?”
Another uncomfortable laugh, like Kelvin thinks he’s joking, but I don’t think he is. Which is really just crazy. What are they gonna do? Saw off his hand? Do a spell to remove the offending body part?
“Why are you laughing? You think that’s a joke, mate?” Hardin’s voice is hard. “You think we won’t follow through with that threat? Let me assure you, we will.”
“Hey, hey, okay, I get it. Sweeney is off limits. You want to break her yourselves. I get it. I’d want her for myself, too. But when you’re done-”
“When we’re done what?” Gideon’s voice has gone all kinds of threatening. “You think we’ll give her to you?”
I don’t know if Kelvin is just an idiot, or if he doesn’t understand just how serious the situation is. Because he says, “I mean, I wouldn’t object if you did.”
The next sound is the thud of a fist smashing into a face. Ezra’s head snaps up, and I know he’s watching as one of his friends beats Kelvin. I pull my face up and glance over my shoulder, only to bury it against Ezra again. I don’t need to see that much blood. Not ever.
