My face remains passive as my heart begins to race in my chest. One of my hands glides up and I settle it on his chest, right between his pecs and beneath his sternum. "You think so?" I challenge with an arched brow.
"I know so," he replies coolly.
"Are you asking for a truce?" I inquire, curious.
He laughs, the sound low and vibrating. It stirs something wicked inside of me; a twisted desire for this man who acts like a King and looks like the devil. He is a devil, beautiful and cruel. I doubt there's a woman alive who could survive him, and I certainly know that if I tried, I'd be left as nothing more than a husk of a human afterwards. Because Dean Carter is a man that cannot be tamed.
"No, little girl," he replies. "No more truces. No more bargains. I'm done being nice."
I snort and he pulls back a little to look down at my face fully. A cloud of air expels from his mouth as he breathes out, small and barely there—but with how cold the mountain air is, it doesn't surprise me to see it.
"This was you being nice?" I counter with a smirk.
"Oh yes," he says, his voice so serious that it makes my lips turn downward once more. "I've been very nice to you, baby." He turns his face and nuzzles against the soft, whisper thin baby hairs at my hairline. This time, there's no repressing the shiver that comes from his nearness.
Fuck, I think. I'm so fucking fucked. And not in the good way.
"But that's all about to end," he continues, "because you can't be trusted."
"I don't trust you either," I point out. The masculine scent of him invades my nostrils and I try to back up, but his hands press down harder against my sides, anchoring me in place. After a moment, he drops his arms and takes a step back, turning towards his bike. My knees threaten to crumble beneath me, but I hold fast and steady, forcing myself to appear unaffected. Inside, though, my nerves are on red alert.
I feel alive. Like the moments right before a fight. Except I don't expect to defend myself against Dean the same way. He's cunning, sharp. Ruthless. I watch his movements carefully as he strides over to the bike and lifts one leg over the seat before reaching down and retrieving the helmet I'd carelessly dropped alongside it, not caring that it probably cost several hundred dollars.
"You never told me what you meant by what you said," I say as I take a step towards him.
He lifts the helmet in my general direction as he slides the glasses back over his eyes. "Guess you're going to find out, aren't you?" the asshole comments without remorse.
I sneer at him, stalking forward and ripping the helmet from his grasp. "This will be your only warning, Dean Carter," I state.
He leans back and slides both hands into his hair, pulling the strands back from his face so I can see him clearly—every chiseled and stubble-jawed inch of him. "Oh?" He smirks.
I scowl and lean into his face as I clutch the helmet. "You fuck with me and I will fuck with you ten times as hard," I hiss.
His lips part, his tongue coming out to slide across his lower lip as he bares his teeth. "I look forward to it, Avalon. If anyone can take me, I wanna see if you can."
He's playing with me. He has to be. But I don't give him the satisfaction of an answer. He can have the last word if he wants it. I've given him fair warning. Shoving my head back into the helmet, I strap it on and climb onto the back of his bike as it roars back to life.
"Don't forget to hold on," he says. "We've got a bumpy ride back."
Dean can't see the glower as my hands find the sides of his abdomen. Out of pure spite, I sink my nails into him, grinning when he grunts.
That tiny victory is short lived as he leans back and speaks again. "Be angry all you want, baby," he says. "Just remember I, too, give as good as I get."
My hold loosens, but only marginally, as we take off and I turn back, wanting to see the ocean one last time—the only good thing that came out of this night. Instead, all I see is the red glow of the taillight on the pavement beneath us like an ugly eye watching our every movement. The entire high from my adrenaline rush has seeped out of me within a few hours when usually it takes days or maybe even weeks for the need to build back up.
Dean is no good for me, but my one consolation is the fact that I'm not good for him either. If he tries to take me down completely, he'll find himself a King without a throne.
33
Avalon
Dean Carter is proof that not all demons live in hell. Some of them walk among us. He certainly does. With his head held high and an eternal smirk on his face like he can't help but laugh at the rest of the world. It pisses me off.
After our little foray at the warehouse and the midnight ride, I'm ready to just try and get back to a normal schedule the next day when I walk into class. But all my good intentions go up in smoke when I spot the object of my annoyance and persistent hatred sitting in my seat.
The girl behind me slams into my back when I come to an unexpected stop just inside the door, causing me to clench my teeth as she accidentally hits a few of the lingering bruises from the night before.
"Ugh, watch it," she grumbles.
I don't think, I just turn around and level her with a glare. "You fucking watch it, bitch," I snap back. Today is not the day to fuck with me.
She scoffs but turns her head away as she slides around me and hurries to her seat. Abel looks up from his spot and waves me over. I ignore him, taking the steps two at a time as I climb to the now unoccupied seats they've been using since they transferred into this class. The ones they used to watch me from afar. I can feel Dean's eyes following me.
I slam my bag down on the empty seat, take a deep breath and let it out before sliding into the chair and dropping my shit down by my feet.
They're just trying to elicit a reaction from me, I tell myself. Remain calm.
That, of course, is easier said than done when two minutes later, I watch as the three of them pack up their shit and move back with me. I stiffen as Braxton drops into the chair at the end of my row. My fingers twitch towards my bag, but I'm not even given the chance to avoid them because in the next instant, Abel bounds down the row in front of the one I’m currently sitting in, puts his hands on the table and lifts himself up and over and onto the other side, blocking me from exiting.
I turn accusing eyes on Dean who just stands behind Brax with his stupid grin.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I demand.
Dean's eyes drop to Brax, who gets up and shuffles past me, dropping a hand on my shoulder as he goes. I shrug it off with an irritated huff before returning my scowl to the man still standing at the end of the row like he fucking owns the place. I mean, he does, but does he have to be so fucking smug about it?
Like the night before, Dean's hands come down and cage me in—one on the back of my chair and the other on the table in front of me. He leans close, my vision completely overtaken by his chest and the dangling chain hanging down in front of the loose band t-shirt he wears.
"I told you," he says, whispering the words so only I can hear. A shudder threatens to overtake me. I shove it down and jerk my chin up as he continues. "I'm going to be keeping a close eye on you, Avalon. Consider me your new best friend because we're going to be spending a lot of time together."