Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
So he is in a secret society.
“There are two, right? Maybe they didn’t make the cut in one, but they made it in the other.”
“They didn’t. The other is made up of overgrown little boys whose idea of wild depravity is a drunken threesome, not a gangbang in the woods followed by murder. There’s only one society on campus that does shit that dark, and none of the Rho Kappas are in it.”
So he’s in that one.
Considering his description of the club, I’m not sure I find that comforting.
I’ve heard rumors about the secret societies on campus, but it didn’t feel like a real thing to me. Sure, it was fun to think about something like that possibly existing at my school, but its very nature is cloak and dagger shit that I never expected to encounter personally.
“If they’re not in one, then why were they doing a ritual like that tonight?” I ask.
“Because they’re copycats who couldn’t stand being left out of something exclusive. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but Kyle’s not well acquainted with the word no.”
I shrug a bit self-consciously. “This was the first time I ever really hung out with him. I don’t know him that well. I thought it being a public place would be safer than a one-on-one date, I never imagined…”
I never imagined he had such evil intentions.
To my surprise, he just shakes his head and says, “Don’t beat yourself up. You couldn’t have known. I am curious, though… Obviously the guy knew you were a virgin…”
My face warms with embarrassment. “He may have… jokingly—I thought—asked about my body count.”
He stares at me. “Your body count.”
His dry reiteration embarrasses me even more. “I know it sounds douchey…”
“Because it is absolutely fucking douchey.”
“But he didn’t seem… I don’t know, it sounds stupid now.”
He shakes his head. “If a man ever asks you that question, he better be asking how many people you’ve killed. Only a fucking loser would ask that otherwise.”
“Well, I’m never dating again, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
He smirks, dropping his towel.
I gasp, spinning around as fast as I can.
My heart hammers in my chest as I hear him stepping into his sweats. “Do you have a body count?” I ask, my voice a tad unsteady.
His tone light, he answers, “I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He knows that’s not what I’m asking, but I guess I wouldn’t share something like that with a total stranger, either.
“You can turn back around.”
I do, but I have to work to keep my eyes on his face because while he put sweats on, he’s still shirtless, and his finely chiseled body beckons my eyes to behave rudely.
“Hypothetically, if I were to accept your invitation to stay here tonight—”
“Not an invitation,” he interrupts idly.
“—Do you have, like, a guest room I could stay in?”
“I have a nice big bed,” he states, his gaze locked on mine.
My stomach bottoms out at the mere idea of lying there next to him all night. As if I would ever be able to fall asleep.
“And a nice comfy couch that you would nobly sleep on to make me more comfortable?” I ask hopefully.
He smirks. “No. Now, you gonna finish patching me up or what?”
Chapter Nine
Killian
I tell Brynn to take a shower after she’s done caring for the cuts on my back.
I’m tempted to go in there with her, but I don’t since she put in so much effort making sure I was neatly bandaged before bed.
While she’s in the shower, I get comfortable and grab my phone so I can touch base with the guys. I’ve been so busy with her, I haven’t had a chance to check in with Shane or Hex to see how things are going with the Rho Kappas.
I’m between texting Ryan and responding to their updates when suddenly, my focus is torn away by a noise coming from the other side of the wall.
Singing.
Brynn is singing in the shower.
And she has a great voice. Even through the filter of the wall, I can tell.
Can’t tell what she’s singing, though. The song sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it. It doesn’t sound like the kind of song that has a music video. Maybe a show tune. That would make sense. She is wearing a costume rooted in Broadway, after all. Movie version, sure, but still has its roots in—
Phantom of the Opera.
All I Ask of You.
Got it.
A faint smile tugs at my lips, picturing her lathering her long dark hair with fragrant shampoo in the steamy shower while she sings with all the gusto of the show’s ingénue performing for a sold-out theater.
But then that smile drops as my gaze does, too. It’s impossible to picture her in the shower without thinking about her naked, and as soon as I follow that thread, my thoughts turn a lot less wholesome. I can still see her singing to her audience in my mind’s eye, but now that she isn’t wearing any clothes, I have the most absurd impulse to rip her right off that stage before any of the rich fucks in the crowd can gawk at her.