Dinner is chicken dumplings, a particular favorite amongst the students. The dining hall is packed. I see Kade Petrov and Tristan Turgenev struggling to find a seat, and I wave to them to take the empty spots next to Bram.
Kade sets down his tray, grinning.
“Dumplings and apple pie for dessert,” he says. “Must be my birthday.”
Bram gives Kade an appraising look. He’s heard Bodashka talking shit on Kade Petrov in our boxing classes, but he’s also seen that Kade is clever and a good fighter. For all Bram’s faults, he prefers skill over pedigree in his friends.
“I heard you were chosen as Freshman Captain,” he says to Kade.
“Yeah,” Kade says, coloring a little. “Probably just ‘cause of my brother. He won three times, so maybe the Freshmen hope it’s genetic.”
“Sorry,” Valon says, stuffing a dumpling in his mouth, “ya got no chance, kid. We’re sweeping all four years. Gonna beat your brother’s record.”
“Yeah, I know you’re a bunch of all-stars. I’ve heard about Leo Gallo.” Kade grins, brash and unconcerned. “I’ve got nothing to lose. If he beats me, that’s what everyone expects. But if I win . . .”
“Then you’ll wake up in the morning and realize it was all a dream,” I say, laughing.
Kade laughs along with me, not offended. “Maybe so,” he agrees. “Can’t fault a guy for trying.”
I like Kade’s easy confidence. A year ago it would have irritated me—it would have reminded me of Leo. But somehow it doesn’t bother me on the younger boy. Maybe because I wish I had been more like him my first year at school. Less angry—looking for friends instead of foes.
Foes come all on their own.
Bodashka stops at our table, staring angrily at the seat he usually takes, currently filled by Kade Petrov. Without a word, he stomps off to join Vanya and Silas instead.
“Is this his spot?” Kade says guiltily.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “It doesn’t have his name on it.”
Bram raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. Bodashka is pompous and not that bright. Kade is better company and a lot funnier.
“How about you?” Bram says to Tristan. “How come you’re not sitting with the Frenchies?”
“I like the Paris Bratva,” Tristan says, in the surprisingly soft voice that does not at all accord with his large frame. “But Jules is kind of a dick.”
Bram laughs. “Yeah he is. His room’s right next to ours. He’s moodier than a girl.”
Tristan chuckles. “The only person who can keep him in line is my sister. And she’s in the library right now.”
“Your sister’s Claire Turgenev?” I ask.
“That’s right.” Tristan nods.
“Fucking hell, she’s gorgeous,” Bram groans in a tone of deepest longing. “No offense.”
“I’m not offended,” Tristan says, shrugging. “She is beautiful.”
Claire Turgenev has long been the standard of beauty and class at Kingmakers, one of the few female Heirs beloved by almost everyone. When she graduates at the end of this year, a hundred male hearts will break, and probably some female hearts, too.
Not mine.
I’m not as captivated by stunning blondes as I once was.
In fact, what I’d like to see right now is a shock of black curls, thicker than fox fur and darker than a moonless night . . .
As if I summoned her with my thoughts, Cat Romero walks into the dining hall with my collar around her neck.
She locks eyes with me, standing still for a long moment.
She looks like she might join me voluntarily, until she sees the lack of empty chairs at my table.
I curse the impulse that led me to invite Kade Petrov over.
Cat sits with Anna, Leo, and Hedeon instead.
Hedeon pulls her chair back for her because her hands are occupied by her tray.
That simple chivalrous act sends a bolt of fury down my spine. I’ve never thought about Hedeon Gray for two seconds, but all of a sudden I think he might be my mortal enemy.
He takes a bite of his roll and makes some comment to Cat.
Cat answers back politely.
I want to know what they’re saying.
No, fuck that—I want to rip out Hedeon’s voice box. Can’t he see, clearer than day, that Cat belongs to me?
The evidence is wrapped around her neck.
Cat can feel me watching her. Her eyes flit up to meet mine. Her cheeks flush deeply pink, darker than her lips. Instinctively, her fingertips fly up to touch the metal ring in the center of her throat.
“One hour,” I mouth.
Cat nods slowly.
That’s the time we set for her to meet me in the Bell Tower.
Blood surges into my cock.
“What are you looking at?” Bram demands.
“Nothing,” I say, returning to my food.
Bram glances across the room, but he can’t follow my gaze across the crowded dining hall.
I’ve been making improvements to the Bell Tower. I’ve brought up cushions, blankets, and candles, stolen from all over the castle. Other things, too: ropes. Chains. And a tool of my own invention . . .
I wait for Cat, blood pumping through my veins with the pressure of a fire hose.
If she’s one fucking minute late, I’m going to punish her . . .
I hear a pebble tumbling down the steps.
It’s the only hint that Cat is coming.
She’s quiet and light on her feet. Small and unobtrusive.
She really is a talented Spy, in her own way.
After all, even that consummate predator Rocco Prince had no idea that she was stalking him . . .
She stands just out of sight in the shadow of the stairwell. But I know she’s there, watching me.
I light the candles one by one, until they form a half-circle around the fallen bell, like the precursor to a seance. What will Cat and I summon tonight?
I start the music.
A playlist of my choosing, selected specifically for Cat.
Bound — Indiana
Spotify → geni.us/bully-spotify
Apple Music → geni.us/bully-apple
Only once my preparations are complete do I speak.
“Why are you still dressed?”
Cat steps out of the shadows into the candlelight.
Her face is still, but those big dark eyes never stop communicating with me. They betray all her secrets.
She begins to disrobe.
Something I’ve noticed about Cat: when she forgets to be nervous, she moves with surprising grace. She slips out of those over-large clothes, baring the tight body beneath.
And what a body it is.
Her small, round breasts stand at attention on her chest. Her waist is so slim I could close my hands around it. But she isn’t skinny or childish—those curving hips and that full ass add a satisfying sensuality to her figure.
Her bronze skin glows in the flickering light. Every inch of her is smooth and unmarked. For now . . .
“Come here,” I bark.
Cat crosses the space between us, silent and obedient.
“Stand against that wall,” I order. “Put your hands over your head.”
Cat stands with her back to the curving stone wall. She raises her hands over her head, wrists crossed. The movement lifts her breasts even higher, tilting the nipples up invitingly.