AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I glare at Eli, who bursts out laughing. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t make him tutor you. Grumpypuss must’ve decided for himself you’re worth the effort.”
Intriguing.
Eli walks me to homeroom, where Gabriel waits to escort me on his arm like I’m the queen. He does this between all my morning classes, keeping up an easy conversation in an attempt to distract me from the eye-daggers Cleo’s throwing at my back. I could get used to this.
Cleo I can handle, but when we step into third-period English and Alec LeMarque glares at me from a seat in the second row, my body recoils against Gabriel. It’s this visceral sense of wrongness, like space bends around Alec’s body, and he not a person so much as a portal into a dark void where a cosmic god devours souls.
Okay, that might just be my imagination recalling this reverse harem book, Kings of Miskatonic Prep, that I read last night, but still. Alec’s assault left a mark on my psyche that all my bravado and vengeance cannot heal.
My mind flicks back to George, and I wonder again if this is something she feels, if the hurt Alec has done to her runs deeper than just bullying. It’s enough to make me wring his neck right there. Gabriel senses my body stiffening and leads me to a desk as far from Alec as it’s possible to get.
I don’t hear a word of the lesson.
One of the guys remains at my side during every class. In History, we’re supposed to be working on our essays about the impact of colonialism on indigenous cultures, but Eli studies me instead, no doubt searching my face for signs that this fresh trauma is making my amnesia worse.
By the time lunch rolls around, I’m sweating from the stress of seeing Alec everywhere. I tense up in the halls, certain he’ll be waiting around the next corner to leap out and attack me.
On the way to lunch, we pass George with her pockets stuffed with food, heading to the bathroom. “Hey, George,” Eli waves. “Over here.”
Every face in the hallway turns to watch the exchange. Eli Hart, king of the school, talking to weirdo freak George? No one knows what to make of it. Gabriel saunters up behind us, and he flashes George his cheekiest, friendliest smile.
George’s face goes red as a beet, but she falls in step beside me. I throw my arm around her shoulders, marveling at how tiny she is – I’m short as fuck and she’s a good two inches shorter than me, and her unusual hair and nose piercings only make her look even smaller and more pixie-like.
Eli leads us through the dining hall, his jaw set with determination. When we arrive at the Royal table, it’s already occupied with three of the jocks, the same three guys who were standing with Alec on the front steps. Just seeing their faces, remembering the way their features twisted like horror movie monsters as they came at me in the desert, made me want to run. But I held my ground. Mackenzie Malloy isn’t afraid of her attackers.
Mackenzie Malloy will fuck you all up.
Everyone falls silent. Gabriel takes a seat right in the middle and pulls me down next to him. George looks like she’s going to bolt, or vomit, or possibly both, but I pat the seat next to me and she sits gingerly on the edge.
Everyone’s staring at us. All conversation has stopped. I glare at the guy sitting opposite me, whose name is Darren. I dare him to speak, but he just frowns at his lunch.
Gabriel’s the one who breaks the silence. He points to the patch from a punk band on George’s satchel. “I love these guys. You have good taste.”
George glances down, as if seeing her bag for the first time. She bites her lip. “Yeah, I—I guess I listen to a lot of punk.”
They start an intense conversation, throwing obscure bands and song titles back and forth. Everyone around us takes this as a cue to that conversation is allowed to begin again, that an uneasy truce has been reached at the royal table—
“What the fuck?”
It’s not Darren who rasps those words, but someone behind me. Someone who drives a shard of ice through my chest.
My whole body clenches. I don’t have to turn around to recognize the voice. I’ll remember it forever, the way it hissed in my ear as an unwanted cock brushed against my thigh.
Alec.
The urge to run consumes me. I’m tough, sure, but this guy tried to rape me and he’s standing right behind me, close enough that I can smell him. I grip the edge of the table and force my shoulders to relax.
We could have reported you, Alec. We let you believe you’ve gotten away with this, that the worst I can do to you is over.
You are wrong.
Gabriel and Eli stand up, flanking either side of me. Eli folds his arms, and I’m aware suddenly of just how toned and fucking sexy his forearms are. He’s not quite as ripped as Noah, but all that running left him in fine physical fitness. Between Eli and pretty-actor-boy Alec, I have no doubt who will win if Eli decides to bring fists into play.
That’s not Eli’s style, though. “This isn’t your table anymore, LeMarque.”
Alec steps toward him, his lips curled back into a snarl. “My boys were here first. You don’t own this table, Hart. It’s a free fucking country. So why don’t you take your psycho-bitch-ghost-slut and move along. Unless she’s dragged you back to me because she’s so desperate for my cock—”
Eli moves so fast I don’t see it. One moment he’s standing beside me, his shoulder tense, his usually-kind eyes filled with loathing. The next moment, Alec’s on the floor, his nose bleeding. Eli winces as he shakes out his wrist.
