Page 22 of Cruel Prep (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 1)

A ripple of satisfaction surges through me. Fuck, that felt ten times better than I expected. To be honest, I went a little off the rails. Too far or not far enough—I can’t decide.

It wasn’t the plan at all, of course. None of this was. Dallas fucked all that up. Made me lose track of things. And by the time I had Lily at my fingertips, I’d forgotten everything I’d schemed up.

The whip. The cuffs. The nasty things I wanted to whisper in her ear.

Instead, I was almost… gentle? I’ve never been gentle a day in my life, but this was as close as a person like me could ever come to that.

So be it. There’ll be plenty of time later to torment Lily in all the ways I’ve dreamed up.

I pull the door closed and turn my attention back to the task at hand.

Dallas Martin.

That Hell Princes douche bag just had to stick his ugly nose in my business. He deserved every bit of what he’d gotten.

Bringing a knife? To my fucking party?

Idiot. Absolute idiot. He was lucky Caleb wasn’t around, or else he would’ve gotten very badly fucked up.

I only get the bathroom door halfway open before I draw in a hiss.

Dallas must’ve dragged himself up here after he fell. There’s a trail of blood going up the stairs. He’s propped up against the wall right here. Staining the white tile with crimson.

His eyes are open but vacant. I wave my hand in front of them.

Nothing. No reaction.

Frowning, I crouch down and press two fingers into his throat. It takes a second, but I feel his pulse eventually. It’s soft though. Faint.

He needs a doctor. That much is obvious. But I’ll be damned if I call an ambulance to my house to come get him. My father would have a fucking stroke if I brought that kind of negative attention to the Foster household.

Which means I need to move him myself. But the bastard is heavy. I’ll need help.

Scowling, I go kicking in the doors to the guest bedrooms. I’m looking for…

There.

Caleb is asleep on top of the bedspread with a naked girl spooned up against him. I stride over and jab him in the side.

“Mmf?” he says sleeplily, looking around.

“Get up. We have work to do.”

“The fuck…?”

I don’t bother answering his questions. There’ll be time for that later. Right now, we need to get Dallas the fuck out of my house.

I hear a soft groan from the en-suite bathroom. I walk over and shove that door open.

J.C. is in the tub, jeans around his ankles, while a black-haired sophomore chick slurps on his cock. His eyes are lidded with satisfaction, but when he sees me, they shoot open.

“Time’s up,” I tell him. “Get rid of her. I need you.”

“I’m a little busy, amigo,” he replies in a drunken slur.

My eyes narrow. “It wasn’t a fucking question, J.C. Get rid of the whore. Now.”

He growls, pissed off, but he shoves the girl off his dick in the same motion. I turn away to give him some privacy.

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