Lords of Pain (The Royals of Forsyth University #1)(3)
Tristian’s demeanor shifts on a dime, all traces of joking washed away. “What did you just say to me?”
I shrug, shifting my glare to Rath. “Guess someone in the senior class has more than two brain cells to rub together." I know from the way his eyes sharpen that he’s remembering the class we shared. Looking back to Tristian, I say, “It’s not like it’s a secret that Genevieve tossed you to the curb. Too bad money can’t buy you a personality to go with your micro dick.”
I’m trying to hold my ground and look tough, but I can’t stop the embarrassing shudder of fear at the way their faces harden, eyes sparking in anger. I sense what’s going to happen a beat too late. Tristian moves quickly, darting forward and clamping his hand around my throat. My chest hitches on a panicked inhale, hands grabbing his wrist, but his arm is like steel.
He’s not squeezing my throat, but he flexes his fingers, and I read the message loud and clear. He could. Roughly, he says, “Pretty shitty way to treat someone who was just giving you some compliments. Isn’t that right, Rath?”
“Rude as fuck,” Rath agrees.
“Maybe,” Tristian says, prying my fingers from his wrist, “we should show her just how small our dicks aren’t.” He yanks my hand down until it’s pressed to the bulge at the front of his jeans. “As you so obnoxiously just pointed out, I seem to be finding myself short of a steady fuck these days. Maybe I’ll take you, after all.”
I fight to pull my hand away, mouth screwing up in disgust, but he holds my palm there for a long moment, grinding against it. “Fighting will only make it hurt more, baby. I know that’s not what you want…or is it?” He tilts his head, like he’s assessing me. All he gets is the feel of a hard, involuntary swallow beneath his palm. “Maybe you would, huh? You like it rough? Because we’re good with that.”
Rath stonily adds, “Crazy good.”
I try to speak, but my voice is trapped somewhere in my chest, caught in the irony of the moment. Here I’ve been keeping my eye on one threat only to walk into another.
This can’t happen. Not now. Not like this. Not with these guys. Not when I’ve managed to dodge worse—so much worse since moving in here. My eyes drop down to Tristian’s wrist. The corded muscles in his forearm as he holds me by the throat flex and shift beneath the skin. I test my strength against his other hand, yanking it sharply away from his crotch. I do, but I’m not fooled. He just let me. Even one of these guys would be impossible to fight off, but two? My heart goes from racing to thunderous as I realize how entirely overpowered I am here. I could fight. I could kick, scream, lash out.
Or I could reason with them.
They can’t be as bad as all that, can they?
“Come on, let me go.” My voice comes out in a whisper. “I just want to go back to my room.”
Tristian’s lips curl into a sinister grin. “But the fun’s just beginning, isn’t it?”
A shadow moves in the doorway and my heart leaps. Killian’s broad shoulders fill the space. He looks between his friends and me, face blank.
“Killian,” I say, eyes pleading, “tell them to let me go.”
“What’s going on?” he asks casually, like his friend doesn’t have me by the throat, pinned to the washing machine. “I thought you were bringing down more beer.”
Rath’s dark eyes remain fixed to me as he explains, “Story was just telling us how she’s a virgin.”
My stepbrother’s face remains eerily blank. “Was she, now.”
Tristian’s looking straight into my eyes when he adds, “We were saying how we’d be happy to help her fix that pesky problem.”
From the expression on his face, you’d think Killian was being asked whether or not he wanted pepperoni on his pizza. So casual and aloof. Unaffected.
I swallow to remove the dry lump from my throat. “Killian, I don’t know why you don’t like me, but—”
“You don’t know why I don’t like you?” He barks a caustic, scoffing laugh. “Your white-trash slut of a mother wrecks my family, and brings her little whoreling with her, and you can’t figure out why I don’t like you.” His eyes slither down my body, lip curling. “I don’t give a shit what these two do to you. They could both fuck you at the same time, and you know what I’d do?” His eyes spark and blaze, and there’s no mistaking the surety of his words. “I’d laugh.”
He means it, and for some reason, I’m surprised. I always knew he hated me, but this?
This is fucking evil.
Killian is never going to be my saving grace.
“I’ll tell your dad,” I blurt, panicking. Normally I’m not a narc. Snitches get stitches and all that. I’ve never told on Killian for the other things he’s done; the weed, the porn, the party he threw a few months ago where two girls left crying. Secretly, I hoped that keeping my mouth shut might make him warm to me, at least a little. Clearly, I was wrong. But the thing about Killian’s dad is that he likes me. “I’ll tell him that you let them do it.”
Killian’s face shutters, his brown eyes staring blankly back at me. “Just because my dad has some idiotic weakness for sluts doesn’t mean he’d choose you over me.”