Is it because he fucked a poor girl? Just on principal because I’m the new meat here and need to be put in my place? Or is he just a plain old psychopath?
He crowds me again. His body presses against mine, and I wedge my hands between us, my fingernails digging into his chest as I try to shove him away, to keep some space between our bodies.
“What I really wanna know is why the fuck you think you deserve to be here,” he murmurs, dipping his face closer to mine. “You waltz in here like you deserve everything you’re about to be given. Like you earned it.”
Is that his problem? He thinks I’m under the impression that I’m some sort of special butterfly because I got this stupid scholarship?
I stare at him, almost laughing in his face at the sheer stupidity of his question.
“I don’t deserve to be here,” I say. “I don’t deserve anything. A lot of shit that’s come my way hasn’t been deserved. But that’s life, and here we are—I’m stuck in a closet with three assholes who seem obsessed with making my life miserable, going to a school I don’t deserve to be in, breathing air I don’t deserve either. Life’s not fucking fair, and most of it happens regardless of what someone does or does not deserve.”
Gray freezes, his body going still against mine. His face twists, a look almost like pain crossing his features. I don’t know why. I doubt there’s a soft bone in this fucker’s body, based off what I’ve seen of him so far. But something I said struck a nerve with him.
Almost as soon as I see it—as soon as he realizes that I’ve seen it—the expression is gone and that deep, angry scowl is ba
ck. He ducks his head even more until we’re almost nose-to-nose, his blue-green eyes narrowed.
“Well, I’m glad we’re in fucking agreement about that. And since you don’t deserve to be here, I don’t think you should be allowed to stick around, what do you think? Give me your key card.”
I stare at him, incredulous. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Your key card. Now.”
He’s got to be insane. Or just a dick. Maybe both.
When I don’t move to do as he says, he growls, shoving his hands into my back pockets. His touch is rough, and I’m reminded uncomfortably of the way he grabbed my ass when he fucked me in The Silent Hour bathroom. He had the same bruising, possessive, dominant grip then too, and the flare of heat that shoots through me pisses me off.
My body can’t seem to distinguish between wanted and unwanted touches from this man. No matter how much I hate him, my nerve-endings keep sending the wrong goddamn signals to my brain.
Ignoring the throbbing ache in my clit, I twist in his grip, trying to free my hands from where they’re trapped between us.
But before I can shove him away, he’s got my key card fisted in his grip—my ticket into my room, into my classes, access to my meals. All of it held in the palm of his hand.
My nostrils flare as I finally free one hand and swipe for it, but Gray shoves me back away from him with one hand, holding the card out of my reach with the other.
“Good luck figuring out how to get around campus without this.” He smirks cruelly. “Maybe you should fly away while you can, Sparrow.”
My vision is going dim, but this time it’s not blackness creeping in at the edges. It’s red. My hands are shaking, my entire body quivering from the force of the anger rushing through me.
I grit my teeth, looking over Gray’s shoulder to Elias and Declan. They stand dutifully behind him, and the sight of them pisses me off. When I look back at Gray, I shove him as hard as I can, making him let out a startled grunt.
“You’re a pathetic piece of shit, you know that, right?” I hiss. “You jump a chick half your fucking size with your goons watching the door like you’re some kind of mafia thugs or some shit. You’re just rich, pampered assholes who have nothing better to do than trample over everyone else because having nothing remotely wrong in your lives has made you bored—”
Before I can finish, Gray has his hand on my throat. He shoves me back against the shelving and puts his face close to mine.
“You don’t know shit about me,” he growls. “Not a goddamn thing.”
He’s close. So close I can see where the blue in his eyes transitions into green around his pupils. So close that heat charges between us, and I can’t tell if this lightheaded feeling is because he’s nearly cutting off my air supply or because of something else.
My nipples are peaked and stiff, drawn so tight it’s almost painful as they rub against the fabric of my bra. My clit is still pulsing, a demanding need building up inside me. This feels like the moment in the bathroom right before Gray’s lips crashed down on mine, the air electric with dangerous chemistry.
With possibility.
With desire that could burn us both to the ground.
It’s infecting my entire body, making hate and lust burn through me with equal vengeance, each emotion ratcheting the other one up even higher.
I want to kill him.