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“Let’s get to the rules, shall we? Rule number one: no other guy can touch you. Ever. We will literally fucking beat them to—well, not death, but close—if they do. Rule number two: you will be available to mine and Christian’s every beck and call, no matter fucking what. Rule number three: your orgasms and pleasure now belong to us. If you give them away to yourself or anyone else, you’ll be sorry. Rule number four…”

Her scoff fills the car before she asks, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

With a smirk, I say, “I’m the fucking devil, babe, and you’re about to see my wrath.”

Shifting gears, I speed along the winding mountain road until Reaper Academy comes into view. She can’t say anything as she holds on for dear life, gripping her seatbelt as if her life actually depends on it. As if I’d ever hurt her. Please.

I park among the other luxury cars sitting in the small student parking lot. Most of the kids live on campus in their dorms, leaving their expensive cars back at home. My dorm sits empty these days, mostly because it’s boring as fuck on campus without Christian or Holden nearby. Christian won’t be back on campus until the bracelet is off of his ankle, and Holden’s gone-gone. I also can’t come and go at all hours of the night, and that would put a hinder in messing with Billie. She has a dorm room here, too, but I have no idea why she’s not using it. After her mom got arrested, everything seemed to change for her.

“May I get out?” she asks in a snarl. “Ya know, since I have rules to follow now...”

With a smirk, I reach over and grab her jaw, gently forcing her to look over at me. But the red mark on her right cheek I hadn’t seen until now sticks out like a sore thumb. The veins on the side of my neck pulse as anger consumes my chest.

“Who the fuck did this to you, Billie?”

Her gaze dances across my face before she lets out a nervous giggle. “Nobody. I, um, tripped and—”

“If you say you tripped and fell into a door handle, I’m going to lose my shit. Who. The. Fuck. Touched. You?” I ask through clenched teeth, enunciating each word as the anger swirling inside of me only intensifies the longer she withholds the truth.

Her eyes drop as she licks her lips. “I talked back to my uncle last night. He got angry,” she whispers.

Motherfucker.

I see red—hot, boiling streaks of red. It doesn’t matter how she talked back to him, no man should put aggressive hands on a woman. The only pain a woman should feel is the kind she enjoys—the kind only a real man can provide right before she has the most explosive orgasm she’s ever had.

“Get to class, Billie,” I say sharply, letting go of her chin as I sit back in my seat and stare out the windshield.

“What are you going to do?” she whispers.

Nothing right now, but her uncle’s days are numbered. Just wait until Christian hears about this.

“Not a thing, baby. Now get to fucking class.”

Grabbing her leather bag from the backseat, she hugs it to her chest and slowly gets out of my car. I know she’s waiting for me to say something, but I’ve got nothing. My jaw is so tight I think I’m about to break a fucking tooth, and I don’t want to blow my gasket on the wrong person.

When she slams the door shut, I reach over and tap Christian’s name on the screen. The ringing echoes through the cab of the car before he picks up on the fourth ring.

“What’s up, man?” he answers.

“We have a fucking problem, bro.”

Chapter 5

BILLIE LUCAS

Lookingovermyshoulder,I see Zeke still sitting in his car, and he’s staring at me while his lips move. He’s clearly on the phone with someone and part of me wishes I knew who he was talking to. I’ll admit, a tinge of jealousy licks up my spine when I think about him talking to another girl.

But I ignore my crazy emotions, hike up my leather backpack and saunter into school like I have almost every day for the last three and a half years. The vibe is different now, though. I used to walk through these halls with my head held high, knowing I was the queen around here. Now? Not so much.

I’m almost to my first class when someone knocks into my shoulder really hard. I stumble forward, slamming into the stone wall with a grunt.

“Watch where you’re going, bitch.”

My mouth falls open as I turn, finding the culprit. Believe it or not, she’s an underclassman who used to look up to me. I can’t remember her name to save my life, but I remember seeing her at the cheerleader tryouts last year—the team I’m no longer on because they kicked me off.

Tears fill my gaze as I feel my cheeks inflame. And when I look around the hallway, everyone is staring at me with disgust or smirks on their faces. They hate me here.

Saying nothing, I turn and march into my classroom with my head down. A few tears slide down my heated cheeks, and I try not to bring attention to myself when I quickly wipe them away. I don’t need these assholes seeing what they’ve done to me. I may try to seem like I have this hard exterior and nobody can hurt me, but it’s nothing but a facade.

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