Dare Me: A Bully Romance (Legends of the Ashwood Institute Book 1)

by Jayla Kane

  Jake’s eyes were incredibly green in this light. I could see the light smattering of freckles that ran along the apples of his cheeks, barely visible against his skin; at the end of summer, Jake was copper in color, those tiny dark specks like chocolate sprinkles. His full lips naturally curved up at the corners, as if he were always thinking something too funny and scandalous to share. In winter, deprived of the sun for months, he would turn the same color as my favorite drink: a toffee machiatto, warm and light brown, but missing that golden undertone; his hair would still have those highlights though. He would be utterly gorgeous, all year round, all flavors of him absolutely delectable. “You’re staring,” he said, and his smirk got wider as he sank his teeth into the apple again with another loud crunch.

  “You still haven’t answered my fucking question,” I snapped, and he lazily raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Funny. You think your questions deserve answering?” He tossed a washcloth at me too fast for me to catch, then skidded a bar of soap on the floor next to the bathtub; I’d have to raise my body above the waterline to get it. “I think mine do too.”

  “I’ve told you and told you,” I said, unable to meet his eyes as I lied to him again; instead of dwelling on the dart of pain that shot through my gut, I bit my lip and lurched over the edge, then realized I wouldn’t be able to reach the damn soap and slid back into the water, blowing bubbles in frustration.

  “You better get that,” he said airily, a cat playing with a mouse. “You still stink, Bird.”

  “Fuck you,” I snarled, and suddenly Jake was right by my head, his lips an inch from my ear.

  “You forgot my new title,” he hissed, and I felt my lips part as my heart picked up speed and my lungs snatched breath, making my chest heave. I realized my nipples were visible and leaned forward, ignoring the tendril of desire that crept over me as his whisper did too.

  “Fuck you, Master,” I growled.

  He was gone. Jake had been first string varsity this and that ever since middle school—whatever sport could be played aggressively and intensely, he wanted in. Especially after his parents died; it kept him out of the house. He was just muscle, really, after a decade of soccer, football, basketball, and his favorite, rugby; he had an athlete’s effortless grace. So he was right back against the doorframe, chewing on his apple, when I gave in and put my weight on my knees, allowing my whole body to lean over the side of the tub and grapple with the soap on the floor. By the time I slid back under the water, both of my breasts and half of my ass were in full view of my tormentor.

  But he didn’t say anything. He was quiet for so long I turned my head to see if he was still there, and sure enough, he was leaning against the doorframe, the apple clenched in his hand. I turned away before I could register his expression, but then languid footsteps crossed the floor, stepping through the puddle I created in my struggle to grab the soap. Jake settled his hip against the edge of the sink and took another bite of the apple, his electric eyes gleaming down on me. There was no hiding at this angle; he could see everything under the clear, glassy surface.

  Fuck it, I thought. I do stink. And I’m exhausted, starving, and proving nothing by staying this way. So I soaped up the washcloth and got to work.

  I scrubbed my body diligently, letting the tub drain a little bit here and there so I could more effectively clean off the remaining bits of my earlier humiliation. I mostly forgot he was in the room and focused on the business of scouring my skin, rubbing so hard I turned pink from the neck down. I drained the tub and used my hands to cup fresh water as I knelt in the basin and rinsed myself off, ignoring Jake completely until I was done. “May I have a towel please?”

  “You… You forgot your hair,” he said, his voice coated in gravel. I chanced a glance at him from under my lashes; Jake was watching me, his half-eaten apple forgotten in his white knuckled hand.

  “My hair didn’t get dirty,” I said softly, and saw him swallow.

  “Every part of you is dirty,” he said, but his tone was missing some of its bite. He didn’t take his eyes off of me as he reached for a towel and placed it on the lip of the tub. “But fuck it, we’ve got work to do. Come on, Bird.” That’s more like it, I thought, still not making eye contact as he tossed the apple in the air and caught it, flawlessly returning to his usual demeanor. I waited as long as I could before realizing he wasn’t going to leave, then just stood up and wrapped the towel around my body. He’d whisked the pile of dirty clothes off somewhere, probably when I first got into the tub and hadn’t noticed him. I reached down for my boots and my bra and a strong, calloused hand snatched my wrist out of the air. “Uh-uh, Bird,” he growled, and I tried to ignore the warmth of his skin, the tingle it sent rushing through me from the point of contact, how fragile my arm looked in his grasp. “You can keep the towel for now—and later, you can thank me for not throwing all of your cheap shit in the garbage. Come into the room and grab a seat; I want to talk to you about some things.”

  Were we going to do some actual Society business? I was curious, but the warm bath had taken all of my energy. Every bit. I was so tired I stumbled on the way out of the tub and he had to grab me again, his arm sliding under mine and gripping my ribs like a vise as I wobbled on my feet. When I managed to get out of the tub he still didn’t let me go, pressing against me in a sweethearts’ pose until we got into his actual dorm room. He dropped me on the edge of the bed and went back to the bathroom for a moment before returning and taking a seat at the desk. These chairs were meant to be used; they looked practical and comfy, with wide leather seats and backrests, a swivel and wheels to let you skid around the room in scholarly pursuits. I had no idea why the Society’s Game Master needed such foreboding chairs in his office… Then again, the predatory grin on Jake’s face might be all the answer I required.

  “What’s up,” I said, too casually, and he clicked his tongue at me. “Master,” I amended, and he cocked his head, his eyes narrowing.

  “I like that so much more than I thought I would,” he said, an almost feline undertone in his voice. “I mean, I knew I’d like making you cry in a puddle of your own piss, but this…” He sighed and leaned back, steepling his hands behind his head as his eyes raked over me. “I enjoy you so much more this way, Bird.”

  “Than you did when you were constantly fucking with me in high school? Or than you did when we were friends?”

  His smile froze for just a fraction of a second before he snarled, “both.”

  “Listen you motherfuck—”

  “Shut your mouth, Sineater,” Jake growled, all traces of levity gone from that beautiful face. He continued to lean back in his chair, though, and I could see each and every muscle in his strong arms, clear as day, popping out from beneath his short sleeved t-shirt. “I’m done with the bantering part. This is the listening part.”

  I tucked the towel more firmly around myself, and his nostrils flared. I waited for him to tell me to drop it, but he didn’t. “What did you want to talk to me about… Master?” I tried to sound interested, but I didn’t have much energy left and Jake was burning through it with his dickishness. “Something with the Society?”

  “Someone in the Society is fucking with me,” he said abruptly, and I frowned. “Nothing big,” he went on, watching me, his lips back in that perpetual curve that drove every woman that saw it temporarily out of their minds. “But there’s a reason you were chosen as a potential Sineater—and a reason they didn’t just hand you over to me.”

  “The thing last night—that’s not how they normally do it?”

  “I don’t know if there’s a ‘normal’ way for anything the Society does,” Jake told me, his tone deceptively conversational, “but according to Tanglewood, the deposed Master of Games from last year, I was supposed to go get you from class on your first day, dressed in full goth mode. The text would just say your last name and the room you were in.”

  “The professor wouldn’t have stopped you?” I shook my head at him. “That
guy was full of shit, the Society doesn’t have that kind of pull—”

  “By the way,” he said, breaking my gaze for the first time to nonchalantly pick an imaginary piece of lint off of his shirt, “your syllabi, books and all your lecture notes are over there.” He flicked a quick look at a pile by the door, where my bag—stuffed to the gills—waited. I stared at him.

  “I left that at home. Fuck, I completely forgot today was the first day of class—”

  “Well, not for you, Bird,” he said sweetly, giving me a saccharine smile. “You were busy.”

  “Alright, asshole,” I muttered, but he just raised his eyebrows. “So the Society has a lot of pull. Fine. But you really believe this guy Tanglewood?” I wrapped my arms around myself a little tighter. “I heard some… Some pretty bad things about him.”

  “He’s not here,” Jake said with a finality that made me narrow my eyes at him. I recognized it from long ago. “So it doesn’t matter—”

  “You don’t like him,” I interrupted, and he cocked his head. “Master.”

  “As I was saying—”

  “That’s your answer, Ja—Master,” I said, shrugging as he watched me more carefully. “You did something to get him deposed, right? That’s how you work; I thought you just threw your hat in the ring, but I should’ve known better. You did something that helped Tanglewood on his way out the door so you could be Game Master. So whoever is pissed about your maneuvering—maybe they wanted the job, maybe they’re loyal to Tanglewood for some reason—they’re getting back at you.” I cocked my head in imitation of him, and in spite of himself I saw the tiniest quirk in the corner of his mouth. “Just find out who his friends are. And everybody that was serious about becoming Master of Games.”

  “How could he still arrange such a thing, if he’s not in the Society anymore?”

  “You said he wasn’t here,” I answered, thinking about it. “Does that mean he’s dead? Not in the Institute? Not a member of the Society? What?”

  “He was expelled. And last I heard he wasn’t getting in to another four year school—no one would touch him. He might have a chance at community college in a couple of years.”

  I stared at him. “Is it true then? That he raped—”

  “No. He did not rape his Sineater.” Jake looked bored. “But… That might mean you’re right, little bird. He might not have gotten kicked out of the Society just because he got kicked out of school.” Little bird. His eyes flashed as he gave me one of his million kilowatt grins. “Nice work.”

  “Do you know who his allies are? Or whatever you creeps call each other?”

  “This isn’t fucking TV, Bird,” he said, shaking his head at me. “I’m not up against the goddamn Alliance. And you’re still not sounding very… Deferential.”

  “Do all Game Masters make their Sineaters call them Master, Master?” I glared at him, and I could swear this time he almost smiled. He gave me a cool glance after wiping all traces of it away.

  “No, but then, they don’t all have the history we do.”

  Well, that was the last of my energy. I started to stand up, realized I didn’t have any clothes, and thumped back down on the bed. Jake watched me, his face blank. “Did you just try to leave without asking me?”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake— “I need to sleep. I need to eat. If you want me around to find out who’s undermining your rule, Master, I need to leave and—”

  “But you don’t have any clothes!” His mouth dropped open in mock surprise, his eyebrows high on his forehead. “Whatever will you do?”

  “I guess I’ll just wear this luxurious private-suite towel, asshole,” I snapped, and he grinned at me. I stood up and started walking over to my books, then froze when I saw the ice in his gaze.

  “No you won’t,” he said softly. “That towel belongs to me.”

  “Oh, come on—”

  “Drop it,” he snarled, all traces of false amusement gone.

  I stared at him, our eyes locked on one another for a solid minute, then slowly exhaled. Fuck him. Fuck this whole game of his. Fuck everything—

  I dropped the towel, not allowing myself to look away from his ice cold gaze.

  Fuck you, I thought, and after I was sure he understood the hatred I beamed into his eyes I turned and walked towards my bag and my boots. I leaned over and began picking up my bra when I heard him roll across the floor on that comfortable desk chair, the leather whispering against his back.

  “The pizza’s for you. You can sleep over there,” he said, and I turned to see him facing his laptop at the desk and paging through a textbook while a pencil twirled around his long fingers, looking, for the moment, every inch the scholar he’d never been.

  “I don’t—”

  “I wasn’t asking,” he said quietly, and the pencil stopped its languid dance through his fingers. When I put my bag down and reached for the towel, he began twirling the pencil again, faster and faster, still facing away from me. “I told you already, little bird—the towel belongs to me.”

  Then I almost snapped that I would wear my dirty boots in his fucking bed, but I was too tired. I’d been awake for over thirty hours, and although the warm water had soothed my body, I was still sore. I sat on the bed to eat a piece of pizza; pan crust, pepperoni and mushroom. Jake hated mushrooms. We always fought about it when we were little.

  The food made me even sleepier, and I laid back on the sheets, finding the pillow with my head and pulling the duvet over me. Naked in Jacob Warfield’s bed, I thought with a shiver, and it wasn’t only fear that caused it; I could smell him, all around me, a scent I would remember for as long as I lived. One I associated with joy and safety, as strange as that was. My body remembered our time together growing up—the schism that tore us apart did so literally, and I had no lingering scent memories of Jake the Bully. Just Jake my best friend, the boy I loved.

  I felt the tear track down my cheek and wondered how I had enough water left in my body to cry.

  But then I felt nothing. The dark took me, and that was all.

  Chapter Eight

  Jake

  I tried to think of who might have an interest in avenging Tanglewood and came up short. It was a piss poor distraction from the girl sleeping in my bed, anyway.

  My enemy, laying right there. I forced myself to look down at the book in front of me and try to focus on the words, but it just wasn’t working. When she sighed in her sleep, I automatically turned toward her, and when I did my entire body went rigid.

  Raven Keller was naked in my bed.

  She’d twisted the sheets around herself, so that her legs and ass were covered but perfectly outlined by the thin sheet; she kicked the duvet off about an hour ago, the last time I couldn’t keep myself from looking over at her before forcefully turning away. Her long, silky black hair was all over the place, damp tendrils of it clinging to the pale skin of her torso… When she rolled towards me, eyes closed and lips parted, I felt my balls clench as I sucked in a breath at the sight of her exposed breasts. That’s what happened earlier, too—in the bathroom, when I made her get undressed in front of me. I hadn’t meant to—I meant to embarrass her, of course, but I…

  I hadn’t meant to stand there, staring at her, my entire body flooding with adrenaline as I drank in every curve, every shadow and dimple and freckle and color her figure gave me in the split second she needed to grab that bar of soap. And when her breasts swung over the ledge of the bathtub—Jesus, they were round and firm as apples, so pale and sweet and capped by a nipple the same color as a rosebud from our garden—I thought I might actually make her fuck me. Just seize the invisible boundary civilization and good sense laid between us and shred it with my fucking teeth. The rumors about Tanglewood weren’t true, but I would bring them to life. That’s what was happening to me, I realized, whenever Raven Keller was physically near me; it made me worse. It made me something monstrous—and not only the hate I had for her. No, it was like the hate melded with my lust, breeding with it to create s
ome kind of demon that wanted to possess her as completely as it possessed me. Entirely. Wholly.

  I’d been hard for four hours. Hell, I’d been hard a lot longer than that—since I saw her yesterday in the lecture hall, probably, so prim and determined and desperate to be Sineater, but hating me all the same.

  I’d tried jerking off earlier while she slept, staring into the bathtub and imagining her there. But it didn’t work. I knew, for some reason, nothing would. Delia and Bailey could take turns sucking me for a week, and I wouldn’t cum—not until it was Raven’s mouth on me, Raven beneath me, Raven gasping as I—

  Fuck. I was starting to chafe.

  I could go over there now, I thought, biting my own tongue so hard that I tasted blood. I could go over there, run my fingers over the softly rippled slope of her ribcage, put my palm on her white belly, then trace the underside of her breast. Close my mouth on her nipple and suck it until she woke, and then, then I would—

  Then I would what?

  I blew out a long breath and put my hands behind my head, unsure of myself. I’d never done anything to a girl that she wasn’t up for, even if it wasn’t particularly romantic, or even, in all honesty, respectful. I didn’t care about them, but I never lied about that fact. It was an exchange—Bailey, Delia, Toni, Ramona, Charlotte, Daisy—the list went on. And that was this week’s entourage; if I tried to list all the girls who sucked and fucked me this summer I’d be here all goddamn night. But not one of them felt taken advantage of—some of them hated me now, sure, but not because I lied--because I hadn’t. I told them right up front: This is what I’m like; this is what I’m willing to do. What do you want? And they told me.