Athena
For the next couple of days, things go pretty smoothly. Well—as smoothly as they can, considering that I’m still living in fucking Blackmoor House, and I’m still fucking, well—fucking Dean Blackmoor. I don’t find out what will happen if I spend another night in Cayde’s bed because for the next couple of nights, Dean keeps me in his, twisting me into all kinds of positions while he pounds into my mouth and my pussy. He hasn’t tried to fuck me in the ass yet, but I have a feeling that it’s only a matter of time. I’ve felt his fingers get close to there while he bent me over the bed, squeezing my cheeks as his fingertips brushed between them. I’d stiffened then, waiting for the first hint of penetration to come, but he’d just kept thrusting away.
When I’m not pleasing Dean, I’m in class or at the gym the rest of my time. I’ve been skipping my after-school coffee meetups with Mia to head straight there, lifting weights and training with Jaxon. And that last is about to fray my last nerve.
I don’t know why I ever agreed to that, other than the fact that it was the only way to get anyone to train with me. But every minute I spend in that ring with him, it’s an effort to focus on what I’m supposed to be doing, which is honing the skills that I used to have and learning new ones that will keep me safe.
If I ever want to get free of the Blackmoors and the St. Vincents and the Kings, free of all this patriarchal bullshit and out on my own, if I want to keep my mother and myself safe, then I can’t depend on anyone else. Even if Cayde meant what he said the other night, and he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me, it doesn’t matter. My mother depended on a man—a good man, one who loved her and who she loved in return, and look what happened. I can’t rely on three men who see me as nothing but a possession, nothing but a toy to play with, a sacrifice to be made, a pet to keep and pamper when it’s good and punish when it’s bad.
So I work at getting back in shape, training with Jaxon even though half the time he’s curt and sullen, and the other half of the time, I can feel the tension in his body and see the heat in his eyes. He wants to fuck me as badly as I want to fuck him, I know it, but he’s not giving in. And I guess I can’t blame him. If he can’t bring himself to leave, well—
I wouldn’t want this fucking town, either.
Like usual, I linger after Jaxon leaves, cleaning up and mostly just not wanting to head back to the manor house. He probably would have given me a ride back on the bike if I’d asked. The smart thing would have been to do exactly that, rather than walk home alone in the early evening, with it already getting dark. But isn’t that the whole point of this, to make it so that I don’t have to be afraid to walk home alone? I don’t want to feel scared, and I don’t want to feel weak.
I want to feel like the Athena Saint I used to be, queen of the school, a badass bitch that no one fucked with. Not the girl running scared for her life, relying on three assholes to form a shield around her.
So I wait until the sound of the motorcycle fades into the distance and is long gone. Then I grab my backpack, tossing it over my shoulder and heading out of the gym towards “home.” I hate even thinking of it like that, but it’s the closest thing I have to a home at all. The little house on the St. Vincent property that is reserved for the head housekeeper and her family isn’t a home. It’s just the place where anyone who held that position could live.
The truth is that I don’t really have a home anymore. I only have spaces that I’m allowed to occupy, spaces granted to me by someone else, with conditions I have to fulfill. Spaces that I could be kicked out of at any time.
It’s one of the loneliest thoughts that I’ve ever had.
I’m so caught up in those thoughts, in the aching, hollow feeling in my chest that threatens to bring me lower than I’ve ever felt before, that I don’t hear the footsteps behind me.
I don’t even know there’s someone there until a fist wraps in my ponytail and drags me backward, causing me to stumble and fall into the grass by the sidewalk. I miss hitting my head on the concrete by an inch.
And then there’s someone on me, scratching at my face, pulling at my clothes, a hand too slender to be a man’s wrapped around my throat.
I force my eyes open, trying to get a look at what person—a creature really—that’s on me. In the gathering darkness, she looks like a gargoyle crouched atop me, like one of the things from the buildings on campus come to life, but it’s not. It’s the girl that I’ve seen watching me before, her long black hair tangled in her face as she tries to strangle the life out of me.
She might have had the jump on me, but I’m stronger than she is. I grab her hand, ripping it away from my throat, and I feel her nails scratch at my skin, tearing as I grip her slender wrist in my hand and throw her to one side, rolling her onto her back as I pin her.
The second her legs go around my waist, one hooking around the back of my neck as she gets me in a leglock, wriggling out from under me and twisting, I know I’ve underestimated her. This girl knows how to fight, too.
“Who the fuck are you!” I shout as I grapple with her, and I catch a glimpse of bright, wild green eyes as her hair falls out of her face. She’s wearing black jeans and a loose black t-shirt, hardly exercise or wrestling clothes, but she’s doing a good job at putting up a fight anyway. “Why are you following me? Did you leave the letter?”
The girl makes a high-pitched noise as I get a handful of her hair, and she strikes out, punching me in the jaw as she manages to get out from under me, scrambling back. Both of us get to our feet, circling each other, panting, and she shakes her head.
“It doesn’t matter, Athena Saint,” she hisses. “You need to leave before things get worse. For you and for your mother.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand. “Tell me who you are! Why are you stalking me?”
“The devil is coming,” she hisses, her face twisting in the dark in a hideous sneer, making her once pretty, angular face look ugly and sharp. “Get out of these games, Athena, or you’re going to die.”
“I don’t like riddles,” I snap at her. “I never have. What the fuck do you have to do with any of this?”
“They’re coming,” she whispers, grinning widely in the darkness. “They’re coming for you and your whore of a mother, Athena. You’re no goddess. You’re just a sacrifice like every other woman who ever played the game.”
And then she lunges at me, hands clawed, and I put up my fists automatically, meeting her head to head.
She’s tougher than she looks. But she’s not trying to fight like we would in a ring. Her nails scratch down the side of my face again, and I reel back, feeling hot blood trickling down my cheek and dripping off of my chin as she throws herself at me again. I react automatically, sidestepping her and throwing a roundhouse kick at her legs. I manage to sweep them out from under her, and she goes down hard.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I pant. “I just want to go home.”
“It’s not your home.” She scrambles to her feet, backing up this time instead of coming towards me, and I hear her cough, her hand at her side where I managed to land a punch earlier. “Start running, Athena, and maybe they won’t catch you.”
I lunge for her again, planning to get my hands on her and beat an actual answer out of her, but she’s quick. She takes off running, and I start to go after her, but the pain in my face is radiating through my senses, taking over. I touch my cheek gingerly, and my hand comes away wet with blood.