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Domenic leans in a speaks in a low voice. “I’m enjoying watching you put meat in your mouth. How about you get a mouthful of a different kind of meat later?”
I try not to choke. Is he fucking serious?
I glance over to my mom, hoping she might have heard, but she’s talking to my new stepfather-to-be and isn’t paying any attention to me.
I grit my teeth. “You try putting anything in my mouth, and I’ll bite it the fuck off.”
He chuckles. “We’ll have to see about that.”
I find Kirill staring at me, too, and my blood freezes. They aren’t serious, are they? Am I in danger from these two? After what happened, my nerves are on high alert, warning sirens blaring through me.
If I told my mother what they’d said, she’d normally have us out of here in an instant, but I doubt that would happen now. We’re here because we’re desperate. We don’t have anywhere else to go.
Besides, I think about what my mom is going to have to endure by being with Nataniele. She says he’s an old friend, and she wants to be here, but I see the truth in her eyes. Isn’t what she’s having to go through exactly the same as me spreading my legs for my stepbrother to keep the peace? To keep us safe?
No, that’s not what I’m doing. Just because he’s made some dumb suggestive comments and his dickhead friend tried to jam his foot in my crotch doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with them.
How far would I go, though, if I had to? To keep us here?
I shiver at the answer my mind supplies.
Chapter 6
Mackenzie
The following morning, I wake early.
I slept surprisingly well, but then I hadn’t slept at all the previous night, and I’d been exhausted. My head is still full of what happened with Paxton, but now I also have my new stepbrother and his asshole of a friend to worry about.
It’s another beautiful day, and the early sunshine is calling me. I go to the balcony doors, throw them open, and step outside. I inhale clean air and let my eyes slip shut, feeling the warmth on my face. I might not be happy about what we’re doing here, but I’m grateful for the comfort we’re living in. I compare it to the inside of a prison cell, and I know I have to appreciate this.
With my eyes still shut, I reach one arm into the air, enjoying the stretch, and then I repeat the process with my other arm. Then I swing up both arms and swan dive down into a forward fold, my palms and forehead pressed to my shins. I exhale and remain in the position, allowing as much of the stress and tension as I can to seep from my spine.
Though I haven’t bothered to bring my mat from the car yet, I run through a couple of sun salutations. The sun warms my bare legs and arms, and, as I straighten again and end with my hands pressed together at my sternum, I open my eyes.
They lock with those of a dark stare from down in the courtyard.
The man watching me is bare chested, a towel thrown over his shoulder. Numerous tattoos cover his torso, shoulders, and arms. He’s at a distance, but I’m pretty sure he’s got some on his neck, too.
Shit. How long has he been watching me? It never occurred to me that someone might see me. I glance down at the clingy camisole and very short shorts I’d worn to bed. I bet when I was doing a downward dog, my hips high in the air, half my ass was on show.
The guy makes no move to hide that he’s still staring at me. He cocks his head to one side and drags his hand through his damp, dark hair. The corners of his mouth lift. Is that a smile?
Hesitantly, I smile back. I think this might be the other guy I saw Domenic with yesterday, but I could be wrong. There are a lot of people at this university, and I’m sure plenty have his build and dark hair.
The tats, though, they’re something else.
Of course, he wasn’t shirtless when I saw him the previous day. I assume he’s coming back from the gym.
Aware we’re just standing, staring at each other, I spin on my heel and go back into my bedroom. My heart is beating too fast, and my cheeks are hot.
Damn, why do all the guys around here have such an effect on me? They either make me hot and bothered or fill me with fear or rage. I shouldn’t be feeling attraction toward anyone after what I’ve been through, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. Maybe my year of being a virtual prisoner of the professor has left me with a raging libido for the sort of experimentation my peers normally have while away at college.
I’m hungry after my yoga. I remember what Nataniele said about me eating with the rest of the students. I guess that means I need to find where the cafeteria is located. I half-wish Domenic had given me a proper tour yesterday, but then realize that would have meant spending more time in his company, which I could do without. Maybe I should have thought about getting Camile’s Snap or something, so I could contact her. I’m sure she’d have happily shown me around, and she’d probably meet me this morning for breakfast, too.
My stomach churns with nerves at the thought of heading into the cafeteria alone. How many people are going to be in there already?
I feel as though I have my new standing as a murderer tattooed on my forehead and everyone is going to know what I did. I’ve never experienced this kind of self-consciousness before, and it makes me want to hide myself away. It’s only my promise to my mom to act normally that prevents me from doing exactly that.
