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“My door was locked.” It was a moot point, but in any event, I felt the need to state the obvious.
“My mistake.” Mack shrugged, looking anything but apologetic, in fact, his expression was a mixture between anger and boredom. His gaze flicked over my attire, and suddenly I was self-conscious in my less than stellar clothing. I hated the embarrassment that burned through me - hated that he might see the girl I truly was and be left wanting. Ihatedhim.
Worse still, in every lecture today, I had noticed him. His quiet analytical presences pressing against me, taking up far too much real estate in my mind. I held his gaze, allowing him to make the next move because, if he was here because I had brought down that suit, I would go out kicking and screaming. But I didn’t knowifthat was why he was here, and so I stood and waited, refusing to flinch under his scrutiny. His gaze seemed to linger on my legs and I was certain I had never been more aware of how little my hoodie and booty shorts covered than I was in that moment.
His green eyes met mine, and I fought not to flinch at the honesty that seemed to lay there.
“You’re not part of The Society.” He pinned me with his gaze, and suddenly I felt as if I were a little girl all over again, and he was going to be the one to drag me to the principal’s office. I swallowed past the lump in my throat as I forced myself to assess the situation - forced myself to rake my gaze over him, taking in his appearance just as he had taken in mine. He looked like a roughened version of a Society man, and I was almost certain that the smell of some sort of alcohol wafted from his breath.
“Well,thank youfor your vote of confidence,” I replied sarcastically, throwing out all the anger and disdain that I usually kept taped down. “I worked my butt off to get in here - go through all The Society hoops simply so they would offer me a position within their ranks, only to arrive here to fulfill my servitude, and for you to look uponmeand tell meI’m not Society material.” I huffed my annoyance, throwing disbelief in my tone.
“You and I both know that that’s not what I’m saying.” The cocky asshole leaned his whole body against the doorframe as he drawled his response. It made me wish that I had aimed my knife better - thrown itharder.
I felt my pulse pound against my veins as panic clawed its way up my neck.He couldn’t know. No one knew. How had Mack figured it out? How did he know that I didn’t really belong - that I was working my own agenda? I clenched my hands, willing the clamminess to dissipate. Panic wouldn’t help me, only my wits would,andI was too far away from any of my stashed weapons because I had been fuckingrelaxing- looking at magazines for god's sake.
And Mack didn’t even look remotely alarmed, in fact, he looked like a ball of pent-up energy, filled with that Irish charm. In another life - in the streets, perhaps - we may have found each other - may have torn each other’s clothes off in a dirty back alley bar. But that was not our story.
I still wasn’t prepared to die today, and he had shown interest in me,right?
“Then whatareyou saying?” I was fucking terrible at this, but I wouldtry. If it meant I could escape, I wouldtry.I threw a hint of seduction into my voice as I popped my hip out, my oversized hoodie outlining my body, highlighting the move. I watched him; saw him take it all in, and still he did nothing. He didn’t budge. If anything, my move seemed to annoy him, and I watched him clench and unclench his fists.
“If you’re not Society, thenwhoare you?” His voice radiated anger, and while I hadn’t pegged him for a Society loyalist, I still knew he was dangerous.
“I’m here with The Society.” I answered on a shrug as if it were the most obvious statement in the world. My knife was under my pillow; my gun was beneath the bed, but I wouldn’t be able to reach for either without Mack being on top of me.
And just like that, images of Mack on top of me - of his thigh pressed against my soaked panties as I rode myself against him, flooded my brain.
And you know what? Fuck my brain because this was not an opportune time for such thoughts.
“Society girls don’t wear hoodies and panties in their downtime.” His statement was spoken casually, but within there was a challenge, and that was all it took to douse my mind of the images it had just conjured.
“How do you know?” My voice shook with fury because, really - how many Society girls did he hang out with in his downtime - how many of them had he seen in nothing but their lingerie?
I would never be a lingerie kind of girl.
“Because we’re fucking surrounded by them.” His voice shook with fury as he barked his answer, the doorframe seeming to groan under his weight. It was the first crack in his armor.
“They walk around here with their Birkin bags and Chanel no. 5 which makes me want to fucking puke, andyouare not them. And,” he pushed his body off the door frame, taking two strides into my bedroom, suddenly taking up too much space. “It has nothing to do with you beinginvitedinto The Society. If I had to guess, you played the part really well toget in here- the question iswhy.”
His body was too close, his breath almost brushing against my face, and I had to fight the tremors coursing through my body. I hated that in that moment I didn’t know if I was shaking because I wasscaredof him and what he could do - or if Iwantedhim.
“And the thing about perception is, ifI’vepicked it up, then it is only a matter of time beforetheydo.” I felt his body move closer to mine, his breath brush against my ear, and all I could do was clench my eyes shut, willing himaway- willing his spoken words to befalse.
But I knew that they weren't - knew the risks upon entering this damn place, and still I came because I somehow thought that I wasbetterthan them -smarterthan them. That my vigilante justice held more weight than theirs.
“Do you know who I am?” His whispered words suddenly held a different tone, and even though my eyes were shut, I swore I could feel his fingertips flutter against my cheek.
I shook my head, clenching my jaw in the process because even with him standing there - I would admit tonothing.
“Most people here don’t.” His lips grazed my ear this time, and I found my body reacting instinctively, my neck arching up towards him - my body opening towards his.
“Please.” It was the only word that I allowed to fall from my lips, and I didn’t know if I was asking him to stop; if I was begging him to continue; if I wanted him to tell me who he was; if I was partitioning for him not to tell them; or if I wished him gone. My mind was a kaleidoscopic mess of emotions and all I could concentrate on was the rise and fall of my chest and the way his breathing seemed to speed up, fluttering against my neck.
“When youbegfor me,” his lips grazed my neck, and I wanted to moan - wanted to give into these feelings that only he seemed to evoke, “it won’t be out of fear. It will be because youwantme -wantwhat I have to offer.”
When I opened my eyes, I was alone, my room cold and sterile now that he was gone, and I was left aching and panting for a man I didn’t know. Because now more than ever, I was certain that he wasn’t fully Society, either - that he, too, was playing his own game. I couldn’t afford to get mixed up in his mess, not when my plate was already full.
The analytical part of me hovered over the idea of pinning the deaths I would inflict in the name of The Wardenon him- because if he wasn’t truly Society, he would make the perfect scapegoat. The thought alone curdled my stomach, and I shoved the idea aside for when it was truly necessary to act.
