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?”