Chapter 13: God of Wrath: Chapter 13

What the hell have I done?

I’ve been asking myself that question ever since I woke up this morning with an epic headache, an ache between my legs, and a huge bite mark on my neck.

No kidding. It’s so big and angry red that no amount of makeup could erase it, so I had to wear a scarf to hide it.

During class, I’ve been on autopilot, zoned out, unable to concentrate for more than ten minutes.

My head swims and I give up on one of my favorite lectures, human behavior, halfway through. The professor’s words rise and fall in intonation, but none of them get past my ears.

Slumping in my seat, I pull out my phone and stare at the text sitting at the top.

My index finger rubs the side of my nose once, twice, and then I push up my black-framed glasses as I read and reread the text.

It’s Jeremy. I don’t have to guess since it has his name. I didn’t have his number, but apparently, it was saved on my phone last night.

I was drunk, but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember. The moment I woke up, memories flashed in my consciousness and bombarded every principle I thought I had.

Such as not getting involved with someone like Jeremy.

Sexually or not.

But last night, I was totally out of it—I refuse to believe sober me would’ve enjoyed being eaten out and having his thing in my mouth.

Sober me would’ve fought…right?

Sober me would’ve never sent that text that served as his invitation. Not that he needed one—if he wanted to jump through my window, he could and would do it.

He’s a force of nature.

An impossible dilemma.

And he took from me more than I was willing to give. Unapologetically. Without waiting to see if I agreed to it.

Because that’s what Jeremy Volkov does. He’s a man with no boundaries, ethics, or limits. And if last night is any indication, then I’ve only witnessed the tip of his intensity.

I have no doubt that if I let my guard down, he’ll drag me into his dark cave and swallow me whole.

But is that so wrong?

A tiny, crazy, stupid voice chants in the back of my head, mulling over and entertaining an option I shouldn’t be considering.

Besides the self-loathing, there’s been this primal yearning for the feelings I experienced when he straddled my face and used me.

I can’t stop thinking about the raw look in his eyes, the way he desired me so much that he behaved like an animal.

After studying either side of me, making sure the other students are focused on the professor or sleeping, I lower my phone to my lap and type a reply.

Why? What will happen there at seven?

A strange sensation flows through me when he reads the text almost immediately. My leg bounces as I wait for the dots to appear. The movements are so jerky that the guy sitting close to me gives me a fleeting glance and I force myself to calm down.

Why am I so affected by this?

By him?

My screen lights up with a text, and I stop breathing for a second.

How’s the hangover?

My fingers tremble. Why is he asking that? It can’t be because he’s worried about me like the way Ava left me some pharmaceutical remedies and painkillers on the side table. Those definitely helped.

My head hurts a little, but I’m fine.

I suppose you’re a lightweight, Lisichka?

What does that mean? Lisichka?

Little fox. You looked like one that day at the initiation. You still feel like one with all the cunning.

I’m not that cunning.

Really. I’m not. I’m just good at the invisibility game. Sometimes, I’m not sure if helping Lan out that one time was worth it since it presented me with this nightmare.

I suggest you don’t drink again.

Why not?

Do as you’re told.

I thought it was only a suggestion.

My suggestions are your orders.

Yes, sir. Not.

The fucking attitude.

My spine tingles as if I can hear the gruff timbre of his voice and see the displeasure in his ash eyes.

You didn’t answer my question. What will happen at seven at the location you sent?

What do you think will happen?

Would you stop answering with questions?

Would you stop being so standoffish?

He did it again. He’s such a wanker, I swear.

I’m not standoffish.

You’re always walking with your nose in the air or in a book, as if the world doesn’t deserve your time or energy. You also have this habit of pulling away from crowds and spending as much time indoors as possible. Standoffish is me putting it nicely. To be more accurate, you’re an asocial snob with trust issues.

My leg bounces again, and this time, I don’t care about my classmates’ stares as I glare at the phone.

This bastard is able to rile me up with a few words, and I’m not even the type who’s easily provoked. I’m the most levelheaded of my friends. Hell, I’m the one they come to, to end fights, but right now?

I’m seething. Volcano-like steam explodes from my pores and it takes everything in me not to curse.

And you’re an arrogant, monstrous, absolutely appalling existence with antisocial tendencies. Oh, and a stalker. But you don’t see me talking about that 🙂

I sent the last smiley face for extra effect.

By all means. If psychoanalyzing and slapping labels on me gives you peace of mind, do it all you like.

You’re a break-and-entry criminal. Also, a creep who goes into places he wasn’t invited to.

No breaking was involved. And am I really considered a creep if your cunt drenched my face while you were coming apart on my mouth? I can still taste you on my tongue. Ten-star meal. Would try again.

I’m surprised no one besides me sees the fire consuming me from the inside out. My face is so heated that I grab my bottle of water with an unsteady hand and nearly finish it in one go.

But that does nothing to quench the thirst.

When the hell did it become so hot in here?

You still there? Get it together and breathe. Don’t vomit just because I was reminiscing about your sweet taste or else it’ll be embarrassing in class. We really need to work on your prude tendencies.

My gaze strays sideways, studying, searching, and coming up empty. Is he here somewhere?

No, he couldn’t be. One, he’s not an REU student, and while that can’t stop him, his presence would give him away. There’s no way I would’ve missed his beast-like physique and harsh stares.

How did you know I was in class?

I know everything about you.

Are you still…stalking me?

Are you still looking behind your back to search for me?

I touch the side of my nose and then let my hand fall to my lap.

I’m not searching for you. I just want to see you so I can avoid you.

As soon as I send the text, I contemplate unsending it. No idea why.

It’s true. All I ever wanted was to avoid Jeremy, so why am I plagued with these types of thoughts?

The moment he reads it, a stupid sensation of regret courses through me.

He doesn’t reply right away, and when he does, my spine jerks upright.

You still search for me.

Did you miss the part where I want to avoid you?

I only read the part where you want to see me.

I don’t want to see you.

Does that mean the DM from last night wasn’t meant for me?

I pause and clench my fingers around the phone. That’s a good question. Was that message meant for him? I was so sure I clicked on Landon’s IG profile, but I didn’t.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out Lan wasn’t the one I wanted. Messaging Jeremy wasn’t a drunken mistake. It was what I was secretly yearning for since that night at the Heathens’ mansion.

I just needed liquid courage so I could act on it.

Can you forget about that?

He takes a few moments to reply, and when he does, the tone reads final. Clipped.

Be there tonight, and remember the word that can end it all. Smoke, was it? That’s the only courtesy I will give you. If you hide, we’ll do it my way.

My fingers shake so badly that I nearly drop the phone.

There’s no need for him to voice it so I’ll understand what will happen tonight.

Jeremy will pick up where he left off that night in the forest.

He’s going to chase me.

My heartbeat escalates at the prospect, and I drop the bottle of water in my attempt to grab it.

I reach down for it, but a masculine hand picks it up and offers it to me. “Here.”

My gaze meets with that of one of my classmates, Zayn. He’s quiet, like me, definitely studious, and has a peaceful aura like a Buddhist monk’s.

He dresses in designer jeans and shoes and has a prim hairstyle.

We’ve been in the same classes for the past four years, since secondary school, and we’ve barely spoken to each other. But I’ve always appreciated his low-key presence.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

He beams. “The professor has been looking at you, so you might want to hide your phone for a bit.”

“Oh.” I tuck it on my lap. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

“My pleasure. I’m Zayn.”

“I know. Cecily.”

“Nice to finally meet you, Cecily.” He grins and I manage an awkward smile back.

It’s not really about him. I’m shit at meeting new people and often give off the wrong vibes.

There’s a reason the only friends I have are my childhood ones—and recently, Anni because she picks up on social cues fast and eradicates any type of awkwardness.

I lean my chin on my palm and contemplate the pending decision I have to make.

Stay.

Or finally let go.