Page 36 of Deadly Sacrifice

Yeah… Creed’s a fucking asshole, but he’s skilled with those fingers. It’s almost enough to forgive and forget. No strings attached, keep it sexual, learn all the tricks from him. It’s beyond tempting, and I know he’d be more than agreeable.

But then I remember the way it felt last night when my eyes landed on him and that blonde. He was looking at her the same way he looked at me when he held me against that tree. Like I surpassed every dream he’s ever had. Like he wanted to drown in me, never coming up for air so long as his lips were on mine.

I’d never felt so confident in myself as I did with him pressing into me, sharing the same air as me. Then he managed to take that confidence in his fist, crush it to dust, and blow it into the wind in ten seconds.

I didn’t offer him anything he couldn’t easily find with the next girl. That was clear enough by the cruel smile he offered me when he found my gaze across the room at the party.

It’s not like I was in love after only one date. I hadn’t grown any crazy attachments or anything. We didn’t have any kind of conversation about exclusivity. But I won’t lie and say I wasn’t hoping things with Creed would turn into something more. We had chemistry together, and I was ready to light a match to it and see what kind of explosion we could be. I wanted to get to know him, in and out of bed.

Creed had other plans.

I think if he wanted to keep seeing other people until we were sure about each other, that would have been fine. It’s not as if I haven’t occasionally eye-fucked Griffin — and god help me, even Asher, until he turned into a lunatic — but the fact that Creed was so in my face about it, so unapologetic… that rubbed me wrong.

While I’m fighting the rise of my mixed emotions, I roll over in bed, pulling my gray comforter up over my head to block out the bright morning light. I’m not a sunshine and rainbows person. I’m an overcast, rainy, chilly day kind of girl.

Since it’s Sunday, I have nowhere to be, so my plan for the day is to mope and nap and binge eat whatever the hell I want. Screw the sun outside, screw the boys across the street, and screw anything else that tries to pull me out of bed. By the time tomorrow morning rolls around and I have to be a functioning human in pants while I go to class, I’ll be just fine.

Creed, who?

Asher, how’s the nuts?

I just need one day to recuperate.

Just as I’m drifting back to sleep, starting my first cat nap of the day, a light knock comes from the door. I ignore it, burying my head deeper under my covers and pleading for the heaviness of sleep to drag me down.

Another, more insistent knock sounds, and I throw my back comforter, scowling at the door. Annie didn’t come home last night, but the door isn’t locked, so I really doubt it’s her.

Then, as if simply thinking about the unlocked door was the all clear, it swings open, and Heather walks in. I jerk up in bed, covering my chest with my blankets. I’m wearing a thin sleep shirt and no bra, and Heather isn’t someone I want seeing all that. Free the nips, just not to this bitch.

“Um, excuse me?” I rasp, clearing my throat as I blink through the aggravating light coming in through the window. “Pretty sure I didn’t say come in.”

Heather smiles tightly, clasping her hands together. “Pretty sure I’m A.Chi.O. president and this is my house. I go where I want,” she tells me, the barest hint of bite under that sickly sweet tone.

I swallow down every insult I have. It’s not going to suit me to get kicked out of Greek life before I can figure anything out. These snotty people have some kind of link to the stars my mom always ranted about. I need to know what that is, and unfortunately, that means playing nice. Even when I want to stab her.

“Alright,” I drawl, trying to ease the tension from my jaw. A quick glance at my phone shows it’s just past nine in the morning, which means it’s too goddamn early to be bothering me. I wake up with the birds all week for class. I want to sleep in on the weekends. “What’s up?”

“Asher called. The guys just woke up and could really use some home-cooked food to help soak up all that alcohol in their stomachs,” she explains, sneering down at the only personal item I have in the room; a framed picture of Mom and me in Disneyland when I was in middle school. That was a good few days for her, but when we came back home, she deteriorated again. “How cute,” Heather mumbles, except her tone suggests she doesn’t mean it.

“Thanks.” I take the frame and set it glass-side down on my nightstand so the picture isn’t showing. It gives me the fucking creeps with Heather staring at it like that. “So… this is you telling me to go make them breakfast?” I guess dryly, gathering my wild hair up in a messy ponytail. It sickens me to say this, but I kind of miss the overly sweet and enthusiastic woman she was when we met.

Heather turns to me with a radiant smile, patting me on the head like a fucking dog. “That’s right! So smart.” She winks before spinning for the door and leaving the room. With a final forced smile before she’s gone, she says, “Don’t keep them waiting, Prudence. That won’t make Asher very happy.”

I scowl at the closed door for a long time. Fuck Asher. He can eat shit for all I care. But with a defeated roll of my eyes, I get up and get dressed. Can’t piss off Queen Bee or the Psycho King across the street. I don’t need either of them tossing me out of Greek life because I was late to scramble some fucking eggs.

Ten minutes later, I’m as bright eyed, bushy tailed, and squeaky clean as I’m going to get, and I’m knocking on the door across the street.

Asher opens, wearing dark gray sweatpants and nothing else. He smiles at me, all cocky and shit, like I didn’t lay him out on the floor last night. “Sweet Prudence, here to cook me breakfast,” he muses, stepping aside and opening the door wider for me to enter. “I could get used to this.”

“Don’t,” I deadpan as I walk inside. I don’t wait for Asher to lead the way. While he closes the front door, I’m already halfway to the kitchen.

“Hey, hold up,” he calls after me, grabbing my arm and forcing me to stop.

I spin around and yank myself out of his hold, curling my lips in fury. “Do not touch me,” I whisper harshly, getting right in his face — well, in his personal space, since his face is so tall. “Or did you not learn that lesson last night? Because I’m more than happy to give a repeat performance.”

Asher’s brows are raised as he stares down at me with those deep green eyes. He takes one more step, closing the distance between us and almost pressing our chests together. “I think you’re confused. You seem to think you hold even an ounce of power here.” He lifts his hand, winding a lock of my hair between his fingers. Then his grip tightens, and he uses my hair to pull my face up so I’m nearly staring at the ceiling above us. “You don’t. So you’d better lose the hostility and get in the fucking kitchen. And don’t think your chores end here. You’ve got a lot to do to make up for last night.”

I snarl, grabbing his wrist and digging my nails in. “Fuck you,” I spit.

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