Page 56 of Kingmakers, Year Three

Ilost my virginity to Dean.

I guess I knew it was coming.

I agreed to be his pet for a month and then sucked his cock on the very first day. So I was unlikely to make it all the way to Christmas intact.

Still, I’m not sure how I feel about it.

Zoe gave her virginity to Miles, the love of her life.

I gave mine to an enemy. I wonder if I’ll regret it?

The truth is, I don’t regret it at this moment. I can’t regret it, because I’m already craving doing it again. And I don’t honestly view Dean as any enemy anymore.

Maybe I never did.

He’s frightened me from the day I first laid eyes on him outside Miles’ Halloween party, just over a year ago. And he’s frustrated me a hundred times since then.

But did I ever actually hate him?

No. I don’t think so.

My terror has always been accompanied by a strange fascination with Dean. He intrigues me, like a dark pathway into the woods. I want to see what’s inside.

No, I definitely can’t regret fucking him. It felt too good. The most pleasurable moments of my life have come in our last several encounters.

But I am confused about one thing. The thing that makes me feel a squirming sense of guilt and shame when I think what I allowed Dean to do to me. And how much I liked it . . .

There’s only one person I can ask.

I call my sister.

Miles told me where to find his cache of hidden cellphones so I could call Zoe any time I like, not just on Sundays.

I go to the very furthest point of campus, in the northwest corner of the fortress walls, tucked behind the prison tower and the edge of the ruined cathedral. Here, in a thicket of Hemlocks, no one will see me using a forbidden piece of technology.

Zoe answers at once, pleased and breathless.

“Cat! How are you?”

I don’t have to ask how she’s doing. I can hear the pure joy in Zoe’s voice. That’s how she always sounds since she moved to Los Angeles with Miles.

“I’m good,” I say. “Or at least, I think I’m good.”

Zoe laughs. “What does that mean?”

“Well . . . I, uh, had sex for the first time.”

“What!?” she shrieks. “With who?”

“With . . . Dean, actually.”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line.

“What are you doing,conejita,”Zoe murmurs. There’s no judgment in her voice—only concern.

“I . . . might like him. A little bit,” I admit.

Another silence. Then Zoe says, “He’s bitter, Cat. Bitter and twisted inside. Do you know what he tried to do to Leo?—”

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