now than she normally acts. “A long one,” she calls back.
Dean steps further into the room and the door closes behind him.
“How the hell did you get in here?” I ask.
He arches a brow before striding further into the room until he hovers over where I still sit in my bed. One hand lands on the mattress and the other on the headboard. He leans in close. “I go where I want, when I want, little girl. Did you really think you could keep me out?” It’s a rhetorical question, I know. So I don’t answer. Dean shakes his head and levels his heated gaze on me. “You and I have a chat coming.”
“No.” I shove him back and swing my legs out from beneath the cheap comforter.
“No?” The surprise in his tone might be funny if I felt like stopping to think about it. But I don’t stop and I don’t want to think about it.
“Looks like your hearing isn’t impaired,” I say in a dry tone as I dig through my drawers for workout clothes. “Congratulations.”
“You don’t tell me no,” he growls. “No one tells me no.”
I find what I’m looking for and without looking back, I whip my shirt over my head and snatch my sports bra and wrangle it on. “I just did,” I reply. Leaving the shirt off, I find my running shorts and socks. The effects of the old memory still linger over my mind and I hate it. I feel weak, a mass of trembling fire. Anger and confusion and old hatred all combining into one body—mine.
“Why the fuck did you leave?” he demands, his voice tight as he watches me change. His eyes trail down the ratty sports bra—not all of the stains from my last fight came out even after I ran them through the wash on the first floor a few times, but at least now they look more like dirt stains than someone’s blood.
“I left because I wanted to,” I state.
“I told you to stay. You said you would.”
He takes a step closer, and I move one back. Push and pull. That’s what this feels like between us. Like we’re both choking on leashes with each end in the other’s hand. He pulls me and I yank him. He pushes me and I do the same. My fingers curl into my palm and I stab the blades of my nails into the fleshy padding beneath my thumb. Too much. He’s too fucking much. I feel trapped by him, by this room, by this whole fucking university.
My body whirls towards his, and without considering my words, I blurt the first thing that comes to my mind. “Why the fuck did you bring me there?” I snap. “What was the point?”
Dean leans back, his hooded gaze turning his eyes into slits. I feel like I’m being watched by a snake. The only difference between Dean Carter and a serpent ready to strike is their pupils. In every other way that matters, he’s a dangerous creature. One that I’ve let get far too close, far too often.
“I already told you,” he starts. “I can’t trust you—”
“Bullshit!” I yell, cutting him off. “Don’t fucking play that. You don’t trust me. I don’t trust you. We’ve been over it. What’s the real reason you took me to Luc Kincaid’s house?” His eyes shoot open in surprise and I smile a cold mean smile. “Oh, what? You thought I didn’t know? Were you trying to hide it? What else are you trying to hide? The fact that you’re using me for some stupid, corrupt game you’ve got going on?” That’s the only thing that makes sense to me right now. There’s no way Dean Carter could be genuinely interested in a girl like me—I’m poor, I’m foul mouthed, and the things I’ve seen and done in the last eighteen years of my life are probably darker than he could possibly imagine.
There’s blood on my hands. Rage in my veins. And so much hatred, I don’t know if I’m sucking it in or exhaling it with every fucking breath I take.
“You’re King of the fucking castle,” I continue, unable to stop myself as I take two steps towards him and shove him back against the door. “You rule the roost, right? You have everything you’ve ever wanted. Just a snap of your fingers”—I stop and make the snapping motion with my hand right in front of his stupid, handsome face just to make a point—“and it’s