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Blood sprays out of the arterial wound, drenching Viviana in blood. Z pushes the guy off her and looks down at her as she splutters, “Eww, it got in my mouth.”
I wait one second, then another, and she still doesn’t freak out about being covered in blood. Z helps her up, and she hugs him. “Thanks.” She rests her head against his chest. Thankfully, they’re both wearing black shirts. Z suddenly grabs the back of her head and kisses her.
I’m expecting her to push him away since they’re now bothcovered in some guy’s blood, but she doesn’t. Her mouth opens to him and then I’m just standing here watching them make out covered in blood, wishing it was me kissing her instead of Z. It could have been. If I reacted sooner, I could have been the one to save her.
Cain looks down at the guy who was on top of Viviana. “Is this the fucking Dentist?” he demands, yanking Z away from her.
Viviana takes in big, gasping breaths before she looks down at the dead guy and nods. “Ethan Poms. The Dentist is—or was—a sick bastard. He’d pull all the teeth from a person before he killed them.”
He narrows his eyes at her. “You had a fucking mobster serial killer after you and didn’t think that was important to mention?”
She shrugs. “I told you guys Ethan would be upset that I killed his guys. This was him upset.” She points down at the pliers he’d had in his hand when Zane slashed his throat.
“Was he trying to rip your teeth out?” Cain stalked over to her.
She nods. “Probably just a couple. He would have died for it anyway. He was never the brightest psycho in the room, ya know?” She looks around at us like everyone should have heard this version of the saying on a regular basis.
Zane nods like it’s normal and we just stare at her. She looks like she’s playing in a new rendition of Stephan King’sCarrie. I’m not as psycho, but even I can admit she looks crazy hot, covered in blood like a warrior princess. Maybe I’m not much more sane than Zane. Based on the way Cain and Sloane are also staring at her as she wipes her arms and face with some alcohol wipes Cain pulled out of his backpack, none of us are sane. Z and Viviana just wear their insanity proudly while the rest of us try to hide it.
Viviana
Tuesday morning, right after Sandy leaves for her early class, there’s a knock on the door. I assume it’s Zane showing up whenever he pleases, like usual. Instead, I’m greeted by a guy with a baseball cap with some delivery service logo printed on it. “I’ve got a package for a Miss Russo,” he says, holding up a white box.
“That’s me. Sometimes,” I add at the end and smile at the poor guy, who just furrows his brow before handing me the box and asking me to sign his little electric thingy. It’s shaped like a phone and I just write my name across the line with my finger when he holds it out.
He’s already walking down the hall before I even close the door. I look down at the box, wondering if Zane got me flowers again. I set the box on my bed, untying the twine, keeping it shut, and gently pull the lid off. Surprisingly, it’s not flowers. It’s an outfit.
One I would never pick for myself, but it’s still cute. I pull out a white, long-sleeve henley shirt that’s cropped. The fabric feels soft. I set it aside and pull out a black, white, and gray plaid skirt. It’s short and pleated. I don’t usually wear short skirts like this because it’s just begging for a wardrobe malfunction in a fight. There’s a note nestled in the pink tissue paper at the bottom of the box with a pair of whitesocks that look like they would go well over my knees. In neat cursive the note says:
Wear this today. I look forward to seeing you in it.
It’s not signed, but it’s got to be from Zane, right? Who else would send me something like this? My mind flashes to three other guys, but I shake the thought away. I need to stop being so selfish. They’re just friends. Nothing more.
I put on a set of matching white underwear and the socks that do end up a few inches above my knee. My panties are lace trimmed, but they’re in a boy short style, so they have more coverage than anything else I own. The bra is just a simple lace thing that has nice support.
I’m able to use my invisible holster on the waistband of my skirt for my .22 millimeter and a knife in the band on the other side, but I don’t have any room for other weapons. If this outfit means so much to Zane, though, I can forgo one day without having five weapons. I never end up using all of them anyway. I throw my hair up into a bun with my silver chopsticks.
There’s a knock at the door. I open it to find Zane there to walk me to class like usual. He looks me over and his brows go up. “You look…very nice,” he says, staring at my legs.
I usually wear jeans, especially now that it’s closing in on Christmas and there’s fresh show on the ground. The socks he picked out are thick, so it shouldn’t be too cold. I slip on—surprise, surprise—my steel-toed boots. “Thanks.” I smile up at him.
He takes my hand and pulls me into his side as we walk outside. “Are you cold?” he asks, suddenly concerned.
I shrug. “Not really. I’m from New York. It gets really cold there in the winter. I’ll manage,” I reassure him. We stop at the coffee shop and I order a small French vanilla latte. I’m sad every time I come here, since the drink Nox got me is out of season now.
We walk slowly toward Huron Hall so I can finish my drink before I get to class. We’re quiet for the most part, and I notice themurderous looks Zane’s throwing at people around us. “What’s wrong?” I ask him.
“Nothing,” he tells me, pressing a kiss to my temple and subtly putting himself between me and a group of guys walking through the courtyard. When they whistle, Zane snarls at them and grabs my hand to pull us into the building quicker.
Maybe he’s into this kind of thing. Was the point to dress me really provocatively so he could act super possessive?
I toss my empty cup into a trashcan as we walk past it. “Fucking hell,” Zane snarls, smoothing his hand over my ass and resting it just under my butt cheek, pinning the hem of my skirt to my thigh.
He just holds his hand there and makes me walk in front of him up the stairs, snarling at everyone else to back up. I like Zane a lot, and sure, he does some questionable things, but he literally seems like he’s about to have a stroke over a guy possibly seeing my panties on the stairs. Why would he put me in this if he would react so negatively?
Once we clear the second floor, Zane stops next to my class, closing me in against the wall. “I would never dictate what you wear, but don’t you think this is a little much for a random Tuesday on campus?” he asks gently, but his eyes heat as he glares at everyone walking in the hall, whether they’re looking at me or not.
My brows furrow as I look up at him, blinking for a moment before I look down at my outfit. “But…didn’t you send me this?” I ask slowly.
