Lords of Pain (The Royals of Forsyth University #1)(14)

Yours,

Ted



A photograph had also been stuffed in the envelope, a compromising picture that I sent to a few of the Sugar Daddies for money. Ted had been one of those Daddies. He was no one special. Just someone to earn some quick cash off of until I could get out of dodge. Back then, I hadn’t really been paying much attention to the people on the screen. They were barely even real people to me. Just a means to an end.

It wasn’t until that first letter, the mention of my stepbrother, that it hit me.

Ted must have been Killian.

Who else would know? Who else would chase me across the country like this just to torment me?

It would have been easier if it were Killian. It’d mean that he and the others were the only ones who knew about what they did to me. Nothing could ever be so simple, though. I quickly realized that this was someone else.

Dear Sweet Cherry,

Did you get my gifts? Did you like the flowers? I know orange is your favorite color.

I must admit that it’s very upsetting that you ran away. I had so many plans for the two of us. Do you not want to see me? Did you give the one thing I asked you to save to someone else? Are you nothing but a common whore?

No. I refuse to believe that. You made a promise and I know you’ll keep it. That’s why I sent you the gifts, to let you know I still believe in you. In us. One day soon I’ll find you and I’ll make you mine.

Until then,

Ted



It, too, was accompanied by photos of me. In class. In my dorm room. Standing in line at the canteen. Laying down in the nurse’s office when I’d come down with the flu. Each photo was progressively more alarming. This wasn’t someone across the country. This was someone local, someone horrifyingly present and persistent. He knew where I slept, what I ate, when I went to class.

That’s when I began doing some of my own stalking.

Killian’s social media is a tribute to narcissism. Back then, he posted up to a dozen times a day. He was easy to keep track of, and among all the photos of him posing with girls, it became obvious that it wasn’t his MO. Killian took girls and tossed them aside. He didn’t chase them. He tormented them, yes, but the letters, the gifts, the teasing, weren’t his style at all. They weren’t nearly interactive enough to be. This isn’t how Killian prefers to hurt people.

Still, I couldn’t stop tracking his profile—all of their profiles. At first it became a sick fascination, watching these guys who’d hurt me so badly. Wondering what makes them tick. Wondering if they felt bad. Wondering if they were doing it to other girls.

But the fascination wasn’t so sick. I realize that now. After what they did to me, there was some comfort in knowing where they were. I couldn’t shake them, even after a year. Even after three years, even from across the country, I could feel their eyes on me, their deep breaths and fingertips. I constantly woke, drenched in sweat, caught in feverish dreams of being choked by a thick cock shoved down my throat, the bitter taste of semen on my tongue. The only thing that made it go away was watching them. Ironic, the stalked became the stalker. I watched their successes, their failures. Much like in high school, they dominated college. Killian has become a superstar in football, Rath is deeply involved in the music scene, and Tristian seems to have a different girl on his arm every night. I knew when they got into Forsyth University, and I knew when they became Lambda Delta Zetas—Lords.

That’s how I heard about the position of Lady.

I shove the letter and photos back in the envelope and hide it back in the pocket of my suitcase. Grabbing my backpack, I exit the room. It’s the first day of classes, and I can’t be late. Daniel probably went out of his way to help me register and get through the admissions process, even though the deadlines had already passed. He has a lot of sway at the University, and getting on the wrong side of it will put a wrench in my plans of avoiding him at all costs.

I close and lock my door, double checking that it’s secure. It’s not a great apartment. When Ted finds me—and I have no doubt that he will—it’ll take almost nothing to get inside.

As I walk toward campus, I’m once again caught with the question: Would he? Would he break in and hurt me? The letters aren’t so sweet anymore. They’re impatient, edged with angry desperation, uncaring. What happened in Colorado is proof enough that he has no limits.

If I don’t make the position of Lady, then I’m not sure what I’ll do. I have no plan B.

Yet again, I check my phone, hoping to see a text from the Lords. There’s nothing. Being on a college campus is both a positive and negative. There are a lot of people around, so it’s easy to blend. But knowing the guys are so close has me on a razor’s edge, shoulders tucked up to my ears, eyes scanning the distance.

I enter the psychology building, anxiously searching for my first class—room 202, second floor. I find the stairwell and head up, traveling with a handful of other students. I’ve only just stepped onto the landing when I jolt to an abrupt stop. Killian leans against the wall, tattooed arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes zeroed in on me.

The other students pass without sensing that anything’s off. Even though I shouldn’t be surprised he knows exactly where to find me, a tingling, alarmed sensation rolls up my spine. His presence is like a startling ache in the universe, something that throbs unavoidably in my awareness. It’s yet another reminder that this thing I’m doing here is dangerous. Trading in one evil for another was never going to be ideal.