Page 85 of Pawn

“Thanks, Damien, but this thing has expired.” My leg shakes and I’m chewing my lip, watching as he bores his eyes into me, his scent filling the room. “Now that I know what happened to my parents, I don’t need you anymore.”

“You fucking kidding me, Rowland?” He’s about to stand and I know that approach. He wants to trap me. He wants to keep me as his but I’m not letting that happen again. No matter how good it feels when he does.

Walking back towards the door, I’m trying my best not to fall. If I do, game over. “I’m serious, Damien.”

“Rowland,” he warns. “Don’t walk away from this.”

He’s getting closer and closer, the flare in his nostril becoming clearer.

SLAM!

I’m on the other side of the door before I realize, and I’ve slammed the door on the devil. And this time, I hope it’s for good.

* * *

It took everything in my body to not pull Damien by the shirt and taste his lips again.

It took everything in me not to say those three words on the edge of my tongue.

When I’m that vulnerable, when I’m that weak, all I want is him.

That’s a lie because I still want him when I’m feeling strong and confident. There’s no better accessory to a strong woman attracted to men than a strong man and Damien is that. Strong.

Toxic.

It’s hard to concentrate on anything after that night. Can’t focus on classes or finals. All I think about is that fire, my parents and him.

And I still have no idea what the fuck is happening in calculus.

We should burn everything to the ground.

His words replay in my head and he’s right. Then I wouldn’t have to take these exams with the world in my head.

I can’t believe the only thing standing between me and no longer being a high-schooler are these tests, prom and graduation. A ton has changed since I first stepped foot in ERA.

“Nice seeing you at the party, Jo.” A hockey player walks by with a bite of his lip.

Like how every jock knows my name or how every girl wants to be me.

“Killer outfit at Allie’s party!” Vicky walks by with her posse and they all wave, still in their combat boots.

Since Lea stepped off her royal throne, everyone’s been up my ass. Everyone including Damien.

My phone buzzes in my pocket as if I’ve summoned another call from the devil and I ignore it again, as much as I want to check it. I have thirty minutes before my calculus exam and I’m cramming all I can into my head until then.

I’m about to press on the doors to the library when there’s a pull on my arm. A cold, firm, hold. I let out a squeal before there’s a hand on my mouth, someone pulling me behind a large plant against the wall. I’m squirming in their grip when that familiar scent takes over. Peppermint and pot.

Damien.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask. “You can’t be here. You don’t go here anymore. Remember?”

“I own these halls and you won’t answer your phone,” he says, his eyes falling to my lips and I know what he’s thinking. I’m thinking the same thing but I can’t fall into that trap again. Into that addiction. “You know how I get, Rowland.”

“Obsessive?” I ask.

He doesn’t try to hide it, his touch giving me shivers when his finger comes to my chin. “Something like that.” Looking down, I avoid those beautiful eyes but he tilts my chin higher. “Listen, I’ll be at prom.”

My gut twists. “So?”

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