Page 86 of Wicked Games

“Be back here before seven,” he reminds me when he reaches the door.

Those five words are enough to shatter the last of my afterglow, and a bone-deep cold settles over me.

“Before seven,” I repeat, trying not to let my despair show on my face.

Killian nods, then leaves the room.

I sit there, still covered in both of our cum, and pull my knees up to hug them against my chest. Mental pictures of Killian with random, faceless girls wearing cheap-smelling perfume chase away the last of the lingering good feels from my orgasm, leaving me feeling empty and alone and so fucking stupid for once again forgetting this is just a game and wanting what can never be.

20

KILLIAN

I’min a shitty mood by the time I head up to my room at six thirty. The twins, Xave, and I spent most of last night doing damage control after some shit went down at Rebel House. We don’t even know exactly what happened, just that there was a security breach, and the entire building needed to go into lockdown to deal with it.

Unlike my cousins, I didn’t get a fun job last night. Jace spent his time working with Axel and doing their computer nerd stuff to fortify what was left of our security system, and Jax and Xave were tasked with doing security checks and gathering whatever evidence they could find.

I got stuck rounding up the many visitors to the house and making sure they got their asses out of there without them knowing there was a problem.

Most of them were easy enough to deal with and just needed to be escorted to the door and kicked out, but a few were either too high or drunk to listen, or they were too nosy for their own good. Those guests needed a bit of a firm hand to get them to leave, and I ended up carrying a few of the more uppity female guests out of the house when they tried to pull the whole “Do youknow who I am?” or “Do you know who I’m fucking?” like that was enough to make them privy to our business.

Today was a bit better, but not by much. Instead of spending my day lounging in bed and resting up for the party tonight, I was running around campus delivering messages and doing whatever jobs I was given until it was time to set up for the party an hour ago.

Luckily my status gives me the privilege of not having to do any of the actual setup for events, and after doling out a list of tasks to various initiates, I finally had enough time to grab something to eat at the dining hall, then head upstairs to make sure my stepbrother heeded my warnings and was in my room long before the party started.

When I reach my door, I push it open.

Felix is sitting on his bed in an oversized hoodie and a pair of sweats, his earbuds in and his phone in his hand.

He looks over as I close the door, and I scowl when I see that damn blank mask on his face again.

I wait as he pulls his earbuds out and taps on his phone a few times.

“What were you listening to?” I ask as I head over to my side of the room.

“A podcast.”

“About what?”

The corner of his mouth tips up in a small smile, but his eyes are still eerily blank. “True crime.”

“Are you one of those people who listens to those to relax?” I ask and strip off my shirt.

“No.” He traces his eyes over my chest and arms, but instead of the usual flare of heat, there’s nothing. “I listen to them to figure out how they could have gotten away with it.”

“That’s what Jax does,” I say absently and root through my drawer for a shirt.

The dress code for the party is simple but strict. White t-shirts, white pants, white socks and sneakers, and a white mask. All hair must be pulled back if it’s long enough. No makeup or any sort of jewelry other than plain body piercings are allowed, and the only part of your face you’re allowed to expose is your mouth.

It’s the same dress code as every year, only the color changes. Last year everyone wore black, the year before it was red. This year it’s white.

The fake smile drops from Felix’s face as I toss my clothes onto the bed.

“I’m going to take a shower.” I give him a pointed look. “Don’t move until I get out.”

He nods, just a clipped tick of his head, and fixes his eyes on something outside his window.

I shake off the urge to ask him what’s wrong and make a beeline for the bathroom.

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