Page 3 of Virgin Sacrifice

As vain and pathetic as it sounds, I was reassured by the effort I had put in that morning, by the image I had created and deliberately wore like a shield.

It wasn’t even that I fit in with the beautiful people. There was no hiding the lack of highlights in my hair or that my face lacked the almost unnatural symmetry of some of the other girls.

But I felt attractive enough, well-dressed enough, and intelligent enough that I held a small kernel of confidence inside me, although the tightness in my chest remained.

I wanted to stop at the dining hall to grab a quick bite before my first class of the day, Introduction to Japanese. After that, I had a couple of hours free to study and grab lunch before my macroeconomics class later in the afternoon.

A double major in global languages and economics wasn’t for the faint of heart. Still, with four languages under my belt already and an appreciation for both math and social issues, it felt like a good fit. I was confident I could find good work as a consultant or specialized translator after undergrad, and I was considering going for my master’s after working for a couple of years to save up some money.

I made my way to the dining hall, taking one of the main avenues across the campus. The cobblestone path was filled with excited students and lined with imposing academic buildings on either side before giving way to a stretch of palatial-looking fraternity houses.

The frat houses were all decked out in their respective colors for the first week of classes. Despite it being relatively early in the morning, groups of eager young men and women had already begun to gather in front of them, partying somehow already well underway.

With that in mind, I made a beeline to the other side of the walkway.

Drunk crowds weren’t always the kindest to young women, and despite what so many members of our society believed, neither my gender nor my appearance was an invitation for sexual harassment. Guys may have been the worst for street harassment and catcalling, but the women who adamantly defended them and mocked other women for feeling victimized weren’t much better. And since I wasn’t looking to score an invite to any parties, my instinct for self-preservation told me to put some distance between myself and that side of the street.

I’d almost made it halfway down the path when my eyes were drawn back again. Sitting smack dab in the center of the row was an imposing Greek Revival-style house that overshadowed all the other buildings nearby in both size and grandeur. Its large columns rose from an expansive porch in front of sand-colored brick and symmetrical white windows to support a towering roof complete with a piedmont gable and window.

But while the striking house caught my attention, it wasn’t what held it.

Sprawled across the top steps of the mansion were two men leisurely taking in the festivities already underway around them. They were virtually identical in every way, and unlike most of the male students around them, these two were far from boys.

Long muscled legs, clad in denim that probably cost more than most people’s rent, stretched out across the steps leading up to the porch. Both wore simple, yet perfectly cut, black crew neck T-shirts that hung with the weight of a fabric that probably felt even more delicious than it looked. It didn’t hurt that the shirts hugged their lean but firm builds closely, allowing the cut lines of their chests and shoulders to show through the material.

Dark tattoos wrapped around their arms, covering most of their skin down to their fingers. The pattern was impossible for me to make out from where I stood, but it almost looked as though even their tattoos were identical. Which was taking the whole twins thing too far, in my opinion. Even the way they had languidly draped themselves across the steps was symmetrical, their silhouettes creating a perfect mirror image.

I swallowed in vain against the sudden dryness in my mouth.

Tousled, dark champagne locks swept down into their eyes, and while their faces were all sharp lines and strong cheekbones, their matching set of lips were so plush and full that I licked my own reflexively before I could stop myself.

It wasn’t my proudest moment.

Because something about the two of them was off.

Maybe it was the subtle sneer in their expression, the entitlement of their bodies sprawled across the steps, or their bored yet contemptuous demeanor, but everything about them gave me the sense that this was all an underwhelming game for them. That for all the wealth and power of the students milling around in front of them, they were barely worthy of being pawns. Someone like me wasn’t even on the chessboard.

At that moment, one of the twins suddenly looked up from the drunken festivities in front of him to peer across the walk. His dark eyes quickly scanned through the crowd with an inscrutable expression before zeroing in on my own.

My stomach dropped like a weight, and a flush of embarrassment swept through me at having been caught. Mortified beyond reason, I wanted to whip my head away and scurry down the path out of his sight. Maybe bury my anxiety under a generous serving of whipped cream and iced coffee.

Instead, my body betrayed me, and I found myself unable to break away from his intense gaze, even as I continued to walk obliviously down the path.

His expression remained unreadable, at least from a distance, but I wondered what I would see in those eyes if I dared venture closer. Nothing pleasant, to be sure. Derision and cruelty, without a doubt.

So why didn’t I want to look away? Why didn’t—

WHOOMP!

I was jarred back to reality as the wind was knocked out of me, and I flew through the air before landing hard on my back, the stones scraping roughly against my skin.

A grumpy-looking dude with glasses and shaggy red hair on an electric scooter glared down at me. “Watch where you’re going,” he snarled before buzzing away on his mechanical menace, muttering “dumb bitch” under his breath.

Bâtard.

I mean, I should have been paying attention to where I was going, but he wasn’t the one left lying bruised on the ground.

My breath was irritatingly shaky as I pulled myself up and dusted off my clothes. My palms were scratched up, and I was going to have some bruises on my butt and back. Still, overall, I was fine.

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