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I’ll only need a few minutes.
Maybe if I get rid of this feeling, I’ll be better. My body’s probably just confused. After all, I got used to having sex with him. It’s nothim,just my need for sex.
That’s what I tell myself while I touch myself to the thought of Alexander.
It’s not about him. It’s about me.
When the orgasm comes, it’s not as satisfying and a little empty. Hollow. It doesn’t feel the same. Nothing like the one he gave me yesterday. But it’s entirely mine, and that alone is triumph.
This will have to do.
He’s the enemy.
And youneverfuck the enemy.
* * *
“Hiding? That’s your plan?”Tara says.
She’s standing a few paces away from me, her designer handbag slung over her shoulder and a stack of books in one hand.
I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, rooting through the suitcase I still haven’t managed to unpack since returning from the trip last weekend. Ishouldunpack it, but will I ever get to it?
Maybe next month.
“It’s too soon.” I find what I’m looking for—a thick tie-dyed sweater. “I can miss a couple classes until everyone forgets that they want to kill me.”
“Finals are coming up.” Tara scoffs. “They’re not going to forget, not unless they find someone else to obsess over. You’re a hot topic now, Al.” Her glossy lips twist into a smile. “I say, lean into it. They can’t kill you anymore.”
I look away from Tara, focusing on the sweater in my hands. I add it to the pile of clothes I’m going to change into after my shower.
“How can you be so sure?” I say. “As far as I know, I’m the only person who has ever made it out of breaking the Treaty alive. Who’s to say someone doesn’t kill me just because of that?” My eyes finally find her green ones again. “And in case you’re forgetting, I came here to lay low becauseotherpeople are hunting me, too. Now that everyone knows I’m here, they might just come looking for me.”
Tara seems hellbent on getting me out of the dorm room. “Your fake engagement solves all of those problems.” She crinkles her nose. “You’re betrothed to a crime lord, nobody woulddarehurt you.”
I roll my eyes, swallowing the displeasure her words leave in my mouth.
It’s still taking me a while to come to grips with that. My proximity to dangerous men has never brought me anything good before—in fact, it has nearly gotten me killedthreetimes now. Why should this be any different? I’m better off hunkering down and hoping this blows over.
Or until Uncle Laurent returns my fucking calls.
“Yeah, well, I still think you need to get out of here for a bit,” Tara says. “I’ll give you the morning off. But you’re coming to lunch with Nya and me, so prepare for that.”
Tara’s still the same.
Always insistent about what she thinks I should do.
I shrug, mumbling as she starts towards the door. Then, she turns abruptly and walks back to her closet. She’s digging through a wicker basket for a while, before she finds what she’s looking for.
It’s a gun.
Not the same one she had earlier. This time, it’s matte black.
I swallow thickly, looking at her, then the murder machine in her hand. How many guns does she have stashed around the place? I’ve been sleeping in an armory this entire time? Tara laughs at the look of confusion on my face.
“I’m just letting you know that this is here,” she says, checking the bullets. “It’s loaded. You have fifteen tries to kill whoever comes in here before they kill you.” Her smile grows, like that thought tickles her. “Head, neck or chest and plant your feet before you shoot. I think you can figure out the rest.”
My mouth falls open. She’s fucking crazy if she thinks I’m going to use that.
