Page 85 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“I’m not a dog.”

He tilts his head. The orange light plays havoc with his eyes, turning them into surreal, gleaming orbs.

“Then don’t make us tie you up like one,” Cass says through a sneer.

I turn to frown at him.

In a flash, his fingers are around my throat. “Although you’d look real pretty in a collar.”

Zachary lays a hand on Cass’s arm, and he instantly releases me. Afraid he’ll touch me again, I hurry over and take a seat where Zachary pointed.

“You didn’t answer me,” I say, making sure to use a neutral tone of voice.

Zachary drags a wooden chair to the space in front of my sofa. He seats himself at leisure, as if he’s got all the time in the world.

“What makes you think you’re in a position to ask questions?”

Reuben walks up to Zachary and holds out a short, thick tumbler. Amber liquid swirls around in it as it exchanges hands. Zachary throws it down his gullet and hands the glass back to Reuben.

I can’t believe this is my psych teacher. Granted, I’d only had a handful of lessons with him, but I’d never thought he’d so much as touch a glass of alcohol, never mind sling it back like that.

Dad would have a nightcap before going to bed. I can still see him now, seated at his small desk in the corner of the dining room, a shot of brandy in one hand, the other slowly turning the page of his favorite bible. He would only ever have one glass.

Except when he returned from his missionary work with Father Gabriel. Then he’d drink like Zachary—tossing back shot after shot like he’d kept count of every nightcap he’d missed and was balancing the scales. Then he’d stumble off to bed and sleep for a day.

Mom said it was jet lag, and made her bed on the couch.

Then everything went back to normal.

Kind of, anyway.

“Answer him, honey tits,” Cassius says. I flinch as he collapses onto the seat next to me. He has a glass too, but his still has alcohol in it.

“You want from me,” I say.

Cassius sniggers.

“Information,” I add hurriedly, willing my cheeks to cool down. “Else you’d have gotten rid of me already.”

A bold claim. They could literally have brought me down here to finish what they started. But I know it’s not that. Doing all sorts of dirty things to me in the shower hadn’t been their intent when they’d trapped me inside there.

“We’re just passing the time,” Zachary says.

It can’t be true, but there’s nothing on his face to suggest otherwise.

How do they do it?

“I don’t think so.” I shake my head, and wrap my arms around my chest. It’s not exactly warm down here, and I’m still only wearing my undies and a vest. The leather under my ass is deliciously cool on my tender rump, but it’s freezing against the back of my thighs. I make a point of looking around their man cave. “You’ve got much better ways to spend your time.”

Keep them talking. Learn something. And wait for your chance to run the hell out of here.

It’s not the best plan, but it’saplan. A plan I can hold onto with dear life until something better comes along.

Cassius laughs and takes a sip of his drink. Then he produces a weed cigarette from his cupped palm and holds it out to me. I glance down at it, frown, and shake my head as I suppress a shiver.

“Here.”

I look up. Reuben’s holding out a big-bottomed wine glass with about an inch of alcohol inside. “This will warm you up.”

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