Page 26 of Vicious Knight

“Yes. I am saying that you can’t like me.”

Thorne leans forward, resting an elbow on the desk. “What if it’s too late and I’ve already decided you’re mine?”

My lips part and my mouth goes dry as all the moisture drains from my body. When the moisture returns it beads between my thighs, sending ripples of heat through me like liquid fire.

I try to school my thoughts but my damn traitorous body likes the way he said that word—mine.

“I’m not your type.” I have to rein this in. Diffuse the situation before it gets worse. Things feel like they’ve already gone south, so I need to change course and hope he does too.

“Interesting, first she refuses my dick, then she refuses me.” He gives me a maddening smile. Then he tilts his head to assess me, the way you would when you’re trying to figure something out like a puzzle. “How do you know what my type is?”

“I just know it’s not me.”

“Why’d you say that?”

“You don’t know me.” And he can’t.

“I know enough. Ivy Yegorov, age eighteen, daughter of Oksana Yegorov and step daughter to Levgen Yegorov. You’re doing music here with a minor in English literature because you love classical literature and post-romantic poetry. Favorite color is lilac, favorite artist is William Waterhouse, favorite bands are The Cranberries and Heilung, favorite movies are the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit trilogies, favorite food is cannelloni. And you hate graveyards, which is interesting because your compositions all sound like death to me.”

My lips tremble. I stare at him, utterly taken aback. Unlike him I can have social media because my relatives aren’t part of the Knights leadership, but since I still have to be careful I don’t post a lot of personal stuff. He knew a lot of personal stuff I don’t think I’ve ever shared with anyone.

He looked me up. No. It’s more than that. He knew about my music. You’d have to look deep to find that because I only have my collection uploaded to SoundCloud.

“You looked me up?” Saying the words outside my head sounds incredulous in relation to him.

“I make it my duty to know who I need to know. Should I tell you some more things I know about you?” He flutters his fingers over the table as if playing the piano.

“Tell me.” A cold tremor lances through me. I don’t think he knows my secrets or we wouldn’t be here talking like this. But curiosity pushes me to find out what he knows.

“Fear looks good on you, little deer. So does innocence. Maybe that’s why I want your V-card.”

Shock slams into my chest and stays there, shackled to my heart. My nerves erupt in tremors and I know I’ve turned several shades of red, each one deeper than the shade before it.

How in the hell does he know I’m a virgin? How? It’s not like I have the word virgin stamped on my forehead. And that’s not usually something you can tell just from looking at someone. Is it?

Thorne stares back at me with expectancy. I want to tell him he couldn’t possibly know that about me and he needs to leave me alone, but my mind can’t compute an answer.

“So you see, I do know you.” His menacing voice pulls me from my stupor.

“How… how did you know I still have my v-card?” It’s silly, I know. I should have chosen to tell him I’m not a virgin, but I’m so stunned that he would know something like that I want to find out how.

“I just told you, I make it my duty to know who I need to know.”

“But that’s personal.”

“Not to me, Bambi.” A lopsided grin slides across his face, then it disappears as if it was never there.

“Now I’m left with the question of what will happen next.” Thorne keeps his gaze trained on me.

“What will happen next for what?”

“You. Do you give me your V-card? Or do I take it?”

The seriousness that creeps into his expression makes my heart stagger in an offbeat symphony. My skin crawls as if a million ants are beneath it and I try to calm my breathing. But I fail.

Thorne is an absolute psycho. I suspected it before, but now I know.

“I’m not giving you my V-card and you’re not taking it.”

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