Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
My cock aches when I wake up.
The afternoon sunlight is filtering in through the trees outside the window. I let out a breath as I blink my eyes open and look to the other side of the room.
The other bed is still empty.
Dust motes float in the sun shaft coming in.
I must have only been asleep for about an hour.
I reach down to grip my dick and it’s harder than a fucking rock.
I moan as I squeeze it, but I can’t live with myself if I get off to the idea of Hunter.
That’s Weston’s brother.
It’s his fucking brother, no matter what happened in the library, and I just can’t.
I stand up, shaking off the sleep and trying to ignore the heavy ache between my legs. I make a few laps around the room and I figure out the only way I’m going to get past this is through motion.
I need to move.
Need to run.
I’m changed into my workout clothes within another minute, and I head out the door and onto the street.
I run down Red Row and head out onto campus, taking the long route.
The run takes an hour, and by the end, my mind is finally clear.
I’m going to go back into the house.
Have fun with my friends.
And I’m not going to be a moth to Hunter’s flame.
Back on the front lawn of the Onyx Society house, I see something tacked onto the front double doors.
It’s four photos, I see as I get closer to the doors.
My chest tightens.
No.
The photos aren’t tacked onto the doors.
They’re nailed.
Each picture is in black and white, and they’re pictures of me, taken from various moments throughout my week.
My heart is still pounding from my run.
I reach for my phone and navigate to my text messages, my fingers fumbling a few times in the process.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
Rayne: You guys still in the house?
Weston: Have been all afternoon. What’s up, Rayne?
Come to the front door.
Soon, half of the members of Onyx are gathered around the door.
As the other guys gather around it, everyone is confused: none of us have even seen nails like the ones that are pushed through the photos, which are a brassy, bronze color, and the pictures themselves seem like old-school manual photography, maybe even developed with chemicals in a darkroom.
Red Row is quiet otherwise.
The tree-lined street looks like it always does, and at the edge of the sky, there’s a layer of grey clouds now, blotting out the sun.
Nothing seems different.
Other than the fact that I don’t know where the fuck he is.
Hunter doesn’t keep the same schedule as anyone else. Not even close. But trying to pin him down is always an exercise in futility, anyway.
“The first attack on me came from out of nowhere,” I tell Weston. “But this one just confirms everything.”
“James and Ethan were only attacked once each,” Weston says.
“I’m the first person to be targeted twice.”
Wes squeezes my shoulder. “We’re going to figure out what the fuck is going on. Do you want to stay somewhere else? I know someone with a house in town.”
“No. Honestly, I just need some fuckin’ food,” I tell Weston. “Colossus?”
“Since when do you want to go to Colossus Dining Hall?” Noah asks from behind us.
“Since somebody is clearly tracking my routines and needs to be thrown off course. I always go to the Kettle, so tonight, let’s do the Colossus. If I’m going to die, at least let me confuse my attacker a little bit.”
“You aren’t going to die,” Weston says, but he looks angry.
“You sure you’re okay?” Noah asks. “We can just stay home.”
“No. I want to go out. I’m starving, anyway.”
As we walk across campus toward the Colossus Dining Hall, Weston’s head is on a swivel, like he’s taken it upon himself to be my personal bodyguard.
He’s been taking my situation a little personally ever since the dart hit my neck, which is flattering, but unnecessary.
Colossus Dining Hall is crowded as usual when we arrive.
I always prefer the Kettle.
But if the Kettle is like a medieval tavern, the Colossus is more like something out of a fantasy film. It has colossally high vaulted ceilings, chandeliers, and carved ornate wooden beams lining the ceiling every few feet. Paned windows line the wall, and smaller stained glass windows are dotted all along the top near the ceiling.
We grab trays and fill our plates with food. Most of the guys grab fresh-made mac and cheese, but I go for a sweet crepe filled with chocolate, strawberries, and whipped cream, because a guy’s allowed to have dessert for dinner when he’s being stalked. Usually I max out on protein and try to eat as clean as I can before a football season, but right now I need sugar.
We head over to a free table at the edge of the room.