Page 64 of Cruel Devotion

Recently, he’d upped his taunts and teases whenever he walked past me or saw me in class.

With him, my old mantra for dealing with bullies still applied.

Ignore. Avoid.

And I did. Even with the increase of his calling me a whore.

This was a big part of why I didn’t want to be so public with Eli. Keeping our relationship a secret would help cut down the criticism from everyone that I was actually with someone for the first time. It wasn’t anyone’s business whom I was with or what I did with Eli, but I knew people would talk.

Preston did. But I ignored him all I could.

He walked behind me toward my next class, one he was also in.

All through the lecture, I felt his attention on me.

Afterward, he continued at it, stalking close by as I walked to the library. His stare stayed ever-present on my back.

No matter how quickly I tried to reach the library, I felt his presence too close for comfort.

He wasn’t just watching me. He was hounding after me. He was hunting me down.

Breaking into a run as I reached the path that curved toward the library where I could wait for Aunt Cindy, I dared to take one glance over my shoulder.

He ran. Now that he noticed that I’d spotted him, he charged after me, clearly chasing me.

I sprinted faster, but I slipped in a slimy stretch of a puddle left from a cold spring rain. My shoes skidded, and as I tumbled down into the grass, he reached me.

“You little fucking whore,” he growled, grabbing my upper arms and forcing me into the ornamental shrubs of the landscaping.

“Let go of me!” I fought back, wrestling to get free.

“You’re nothing but a goddamn tease.” He gripped my neck, squeezing hard like he wanted to choke me. “You don’t put out for anyone but that fucking loser, huh?” He slapped my face as I tried to scream.

The bite of agony seared through me, radiating with heat over my cheek. This time, the pain didn’t feel good. The pain didn’t lead the way to an endorphin rush and make me feel pleasure. Red-hot anger and terror swept through me, and I tried not to lock up with panic under his attack.

“You won’t put out for anyone but fucking Young,” he snarled, clearly delusional and angry as he clawed at my clothes, trying to force my pants down.

“Stop! Get off me?—”

He silenced my shouts with another hard smack to the face. This one was so hard, so sharp, that it stole my breath.

“Help!”

Nothing I said or did stopped him. He was crazed, frantic to get my clothes off so he could rape me, but the thought of anyone other than Eli touching me pushed me to fight back harder. And harder.

As he struggled to hold me against the wall, I let all my fury sweep into a hot, boiling energy. I shook, grinding my teeth and forcing my arm up between us so I could jam my palm up at his nose with all my might.

“Ahh!” He flung back, putting his hand up to his nose as blood gushed out.

I didn’t wait.

I didn’t linger.

Without another glance back at my bully, the one who tried to hurt me more than with words and cruel jokes, I sprinted away. Desperation fueled me. For the first time, I couldn’t ignore or avoid him. This was fight or flight. Now that I’d fought to get free, it was time to escape until I could feel secure again—something only possible in Eli’s arms.

22

ELI

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