Page 7 of Virgin Sacrifice

“Yes, of course,” Blackwell said, suddenly breaking his gaze from mine as he sat back down seemingly without a care in the world.

For a moment, his impassivity caught me off guard.

“But don’t come crying to me when you don’t like the consequences of your choices.”

Ah, there he was.

I bobbed my head in response, choosing to ignore the barb and instead making my way out of the classroom.

I had almost made it out into the hall when Blackwell’s voice rang out once more.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you next class, Miss Torres,” he called, followed by haughty laughter.

I rushed down the hall as quickly as I dared.

Once again, my instincts had been spot-on. Locke Blackwell was the devil.

Chapter four

Luz

“Sac à merde! Pinche pendejo! Verdammter Depp!” I hissed on my way back from dinner, cursing Dr. Blackwell in as many different languages as I could.

The meal of watery spaghetti and dry meatballs served in the dining hall had done nothing to improve my mood. Not even the chocolate pudding helped.

I wasn’t stupid. I was well aware that as a young Latina at an elite university, I was going to run into privileged jerks, both young and old, on power trips. And like so many other women, I was more than proficient at remaining composed when faced with a raging dickhole.

But something about Locke Blackwell’s particular brand of malice had gotten under my skin in a way the entitlement and lechery of the average frat boy didn’t. No, he hadn’t broken my composure, but it had been close, closer than I could afford with the weight of my scholarship on my shoulders.

My shame faded into a memory as my fury continued to build.

Clenching my fists as I stalked towards the dorm, I was practically vibrating with rage.

“Screw you, Locke Blackwell. Du Schwein!” I muttered to myself as I made my way through the double doors of Jackson College House, getting more than a few curious and concerned looks from other students.

“Mija . . .”

I could practically hear my mother’s gentle voice echoing in my head.

“So quick to anger, Luz, I raised you better than this . . .” she would softly chide me. “As women, there is power to be found in our softness . . . in the sweetness of our words.”

And where had that gotten her? Bitterness and regret shot through me.

My breath was shaky as I climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, and no matter how many times I tried to clear the weight of my tears from my eyes, they remained heavy.

By the time I exited the stairwell, I was slightly more under control. But I knew that as soon as I came down from the adrenaline rush of my anger, I was going to crash hard. I needed to get to my room, complete my skincare routine, and get under the covers with a good book.

With a furtive glance, I scoped out the floor. A suspiciously social-looking group of girls gathered in the small, shared lounge on our floor. Jackson College House was coed, but for some reason, the girls on my floor outnumbered the guys four to one. This had led to some of my floormates crowning ours to be “the girls’ floor” during orientation. It also meant, for some unfathomable reason, swapping premature and saccharine promises to remain BFFs forever (making the effort to point out the fact that they were saying “forever forever” didn’t seem worth my time).

Hard pass.

Once I was satisfied that they were sufficiently distracted and unlikely to notice me, I dashed to my room and locked the door behind me, before leaning against it and finally allowing myself a deep breath of release.

For better or for worse, my first day at Hollow Oak was over. Only 599 more to go.

I tossed and turned for hours, only to finally fall asleep and spend the rest of the night trapped in an endless cycle of reliving my humiliation at Dr. Blackwell’s hands. Sometimes in my dreams, I rose up and put the demon in his place. But most of the time, I simply cowered and broke down in tears, begging as Locke told me that not only had I been kicked out of Hollow Oak but that police would be there shortly to arrest me for falsifying my transcript and pretending to be a student.

I woke up covered in sweat, my heart pounding. It took me a moment to realize that a sound had woken me up.

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