“You don’t even know me,” I point out. “Not really, and I certainly don’t know you. You can’t say shit like that.”
Rook walks away, as if bored with the conversation, and comes back while Oliver is explaining the fact that he can absolutely love more than one person at a time.
“Here.” My professor cuts him off and holds out a can of ginger ale for me.
I swallow hard and gaze up at him, eyes narrowed. “Drop dead.”
He grins. “Well, I can alwaysmakeyou drink it. It’s not poisoned, Love.” He sits down on my other side, giving me the impression that I’m caged in with absolutely nowhere to go. As I watch, Rook opens the can and takes a drink, as if to show me that it is not, in fact, going to melt my organs from the inside out.
That’s what I’d thought, at least. He sets the can down and swiftly leans forward, kissing me hard and gripping my jaw so I can’t go anywhere. I shriek in surprise, my arms suddenly gripped from behind as Rook opens his mouth and lets the ginger ale drip into my mouth, from his tongue to mine.
I don’t have a choice. I swallow, nearly choking, but he doesn’tstop.
He kisses me, barely letting me choke the ginger ale down, and his other hand comes to my waist to press against the bareskin of my side under my hoodie. Or rather, the hoodiehegot for me that I’m still wearing.
“Do I need to do it again?” he growls threateningly, tongue tracing my lips to find any traces of ginger ale. I shake my head as much as he’ll allow, dragging air into my lungs as I stare at him.
It hits me, then, for the first time. He isn’t like Oliver at all.
He’s so much worse.
“Then open your mouth.” I wish I could beg for him to go back when he was letting me drink it on my own. I wish I hadn’t told him to drop dead. Especially when he lifts the can to my lips and pours just enough into my mouth for me to swallow. But the can is replaced with his mouth a second later as he presses his tongue against mine to make sure I’d done as he’d said.
“I can-I can do it myself,” I whisper, eyes wide as I stare into his face. I find myself pulling away from him, even though that means going closer to Oliver. But frankly, right now, Oliver feels like the lesser of two evils to me.
“Sweet Blair,” Oliver purrs in my ear. “There you go; I’ll be your safe haven.” The words make me shudder, and I realize I haven’t been as subtle as I’d intended. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush with the front of his body as Rook closes the distance between us once more.
“Please—” I choke out, feeling my heart thrumming in time with the pain in my head. “I won’t tell. I don’t know what youwantfrom me.”
“You don’t?” Rook tilts his head to the side and holds the can out for me to take. I do, fingers trembling, and take a small drink of it that I hope is sufficient for him. Of course it isn’t, though, and he touches his fingers to the can in a clear message to drink more.
“Love, we just wantyou.”
The words make me choke, and my eyes stream as I nearly cough ginger ale all over his nice t-shirt. But he doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he pulls me closer to him, so that I’m held between them in a living, breathing cage. He rubs my back, taking the can from me in the same motion, and murmurs in my ear that everything is fine.
Even though it isn’t.
“Are you going to let me go? For real?” I ask, when he sits back again and I’m no longer hacking up a lung. “Tonight?”
“As soon as I know you’re okay,” Rook promises. “Like I said, I want you to stay here until I know you aren’t concussed.”
“What if I tell someone?” I don’t mean to say it. I don’t mean to say a fucking word other than ‘okay’ or something else just as innocent, but I can’t put the words back in once they’re out.
But Rook just… shrugs. Behind me, Oliver chuckles against my hair. “Then you tell someone. Maybe a cop comes looking at our door, and they don’t find a damn thing. Maybe they do an investigation, and they find nothing. Just like they’ve found nothing every single time Oliver has laid a body at my feet before. Do you think this is the first time I’ve cleaned up one of his spree victims, Love?”
“Are you not a killer, then?” I ask, hating the curiosity I feel at his words. “Is it just Oliver?”
“No,” Rook promises, shaking his head. “I’m just better at controlling myself. And I don’t have a lot of time to have my own fun when he’s out killing lookalikes of your roommate for his own needs. If you go to the police, it’s likely no one believes you. No one looks at us twice. Neither of us gets caught, and you look like the girl who cried wolf.”
There’s no threat there, and I shiver at the touch of his fingers on my jaw.
“What if I don’t wantyou?” God, I should really learn to keep my mouth shut. “Either of you?” I don’t, obviously. How could I?
“Then prove it,” Oliver growls in my ear. When I start to speak, he cuts me off with a finger against my lips. “Prove it when you aren’t so worked up, and we haven’t scared you so badly.Prove itwhen it counts, not when your fight-or-flight instincts are taking over.”
“I won’t feel any differently in the morning,” I reply, eyes on Rook’s. “Or the next day or whenever.”
“Then prove it,” he agrees with a shrug. “Prove you want nothing to do with us, sweet little puppy, and we’ll leave you alone.”