“It’s something, though”—Breaker’s eyebrow lifts, questioning the bullshit I’ve started with this girl— “and if what we think is right, then in the end, she shouldn’t care what we’ve done to get to the truth.”
“That’s how we’re going to justify it, then?” I face him, completely surprised by how the reality settles roughly on my conscience.
“We do whatever we have to do to survive, always, and for each other.” Breaker walks out of the living room, and I fall back into the couch. “Reed was one of us.”
My head pounds with the unknown. We could have this all wrong. Chasing ghosts and dragging someone innocent on the ride with us isn’t what we do. The Glass House Boys control the social hierarchy on campus. What we say, goes. What we say, doesn’t, is discarded. No questions asked. No evidence needed to support our reasoning.
To them, it’s our word that counts. Both a blessing and a curse. Power puts a target on our backs in a way nothing else can.
Our power may have been the catalyst for Reed’s unfortunate ending, and here we are walking Palmer right into the same trap.
Chapter Seven
Palmer
A knock on my door startles me, causing me to drop my mascara wand, leaving a dark smudge of makeup on the countertop. It’s only seven in the morning, a little too early for a visitor.
“I swear to God, Delaney, this better be important for you to be interrupting ME time!” I yell, buttoning my pressed white shirt.
I open the door and suck in a deep breath. Marek leans on the wall across from my room, his legs crossed at his ankles, looking every bit of the trouble he is.
“Coffee?” He offers the tray to me, and I carry them inside my room, placing them on the table. I never say no to coffee.
I check the orders and smile to see my usual favorites. He plucks his basic black coffee from the group and takes a long sip. A soft moan releases from his mouth, and like there’s a direct connection to my center, a ping of lust shoots through me.
He watches the front of my sweatpants like he can will them off my body. I fidget, knowing what he could be thinking. I pinch my thighs together to get some relief, and he grins, looking up at me through his long lashes.
“How’d you know what I order?” I ask and turn to grab the cappuccino first. His grin catches me off guard when I face him. “You know what, never mind. I don’t think I want to know.”
“Probably safer that way.” He sits on the edge of my mattress, thumbing the lid flap on his cup. “What has me curious is how indecisive you are. Three different orders every time. If you want a good buzz, Palmer, I can give you something to quench that thirst.”
“What are you even doing here, Marek?” I check my watch to distract myself from paying too much attention to the boy on my bed. “Isn’t it a little early for you to be hunting?”
It’s what they call the process of finding their next victim. At least that’s what Reed had told me. This was my worry when Marek and the boys started showing interest in me. Reed had fallen for it, and I’ve never understood how. For how smart of a girl she was, you’d think she’d know better than to fall for the charm of four sociopaths.
“Is that what you think I’m doing, hunting you?” He sets his cup on my bedside table, stands, and stalks over like a predator, inspecting a wounded animal he plans to rip the jugular out of. “That isn’t what this is at all.” One hand grips my hip, tugging me flush against him. “Girls who are hunted aren’t meaningful. They hold one purpose. To feed our egos and our thirst for the beautiful scream only a girl pushed to her edge can bring.”
“My sister?” I cover my throat.
“Was never hunted by us.” With slow, painful movements, he leans down and grazes his lips against the side of my neck.
“But she told me about it.” I shiver as he shows the other side of my neck attention.
“Think back, Palmer. Did she ever say she fell prey to us?” He taps my temple, and I recall every conversation. He’s right. “Reed didn’t need to be hunted. She willingly walked into our arms.”
“And I assume you expect me to do the same thing.” I stand up straight, hoping to show him I’m not afraid of him. But I am.
“I wouldn’t want you as bad as I do, if you did, Palmer. Like Breaker said, don’t make it easy for me.” His eyes are always so intense, like he’s holding back something and only willing to go so far until something stops him.
“You should go. I need to finish getting ready.” I walk to the door and hold it open. Privilege gives Marek the confidence to sit at the small table that divides the kitchen from the bedroom. “What are you doing?”
“I didn’t come here just to deliver coffee. I’m walking you to class, Palmer. I know today is the anniversary of . . .” He leans forward, gripping his cup so tight, I expect it to explode. He doesn’t finish his sentence, as if it’s too painful to acknowledge.
We watch each other for a minute, neither of us moving or uttering a single word. Like a standoff, we are choosing to challenge the other. I want him to leave. He wants to stay. The greatest war ever raged is happening between us right now.
“You won’t win. Now get dressed, or else you’ll make me late.” Marek leans back in his chair.
I snatch my socks and skirt from the table and head for the bathroom. The door springs back open as I close it. Marek’s large hand is the culprit. He stands boldly in front of me with hungry eyes, taking up too much space. His blues sparkle with desire.
“I said to get dressed, Palmer. I didn’t say to do it behind a closed door.” His tongue reaches out, running over his bottom lip.
“Marek,” I whisper.
His fingers dip into the side of my sweatpants and lower them until they fall to the floor, pooling at my feet. When he falls to his knees, shock rolls through my heart. He helps me step out of the material, then grabs the black socks, working them onto my feet. He stands and lifts me onto the counter, tucking himself close between my thighs.
“You have no idea, do you?” His lips graze mine, and his hands dip into my hair.
“What?” I ask, tightening my legs around him, loving the way he feels there.
“How weak you make me.” He wastes no time capturing my mouth with his. His tongue dances and plays nicely with mine, giving just enough pressure to prove how badly he wants me. Through our lips, he whispers, “See, you’re going to make me late.”
When he moves away, putting a little bit of space between us, I miss the warmth his large body brings. He bends back down and slips the skirt onto my legs and lifts it until he can’t anymore.
“Jump down, baby.” A sweet kiss on the cheek is all it takes to make me putty in his hands. I do as he says, and he turns me around, roughly bending me over the counter. The skirt tightens on my hips as he raises the zipper.
A cool breeze hits the back of my thighs. A sting radiates over my ass, and I jolt upward.
“Did you just spank me?” I grin, hating myself for how much I enjoyed the sharp intrusion.
“You don’t stay first in the class by being lazy.” He turns his back, bold and domineering, and leaves me to finish getting ready. “Don’t make me late again, Palmer.”