The COMPLETE Coventon Campus Series: Books I, II, & III

by Wright, Kenya

  Hanging from the ceiling, the only other word I could choke out of my tired lips was, “Why?”

  His voice still rang out like a musical instrument, except this time instead of sounding like a slow groove, it scratched my eardrums with static.

  “We're done.”

  “Purple.” That was all I could reply.

  His gaze didn't follow the tiny streams of blood that trailed down my chest. Those dark eyes looked beyond me as he put on his shirt and buttoned it up.

  Although Malcolm had height, his body was slender. Where I had coiled muscle, he possessed cuts in his frame like a sculpture of a Greek God. Not too much, but just enough to make me spot him out of others in the crowd.

  He dressed in silence, so detached from my pain and injuries, it chilled me.

  What type of human could hurt another like that and stand by his damage with no regret?

  A cold chill ran up my spine.

  “Purple,” I whispered right when he headed to the door. By then, I knew he’d had no intentions of taking me down from the swing and helping me with my injuries.

  He paused in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder. “I told you that my world was something you wouldn't be prepared for.”

  Blinking through blood drops, I pierced him with my own hardened gaze. “Tonight wasn't BDSM, knife play, or kink. It was a man taking off his mask and showing me that all this time, he was a monster.”

  “Purple,” was the last thing he said, right before he slammed the door and left.

  That's the only thing I'll remember about you, Malcolm. That's what I'll replay in my mind anytime your name comes up. And when I'm destroying you, that's what I'll remind you of.

  My phone rang. I didn't check the screen. Whoever called wouldn't help. Jay would just worry and threaten to murder the bastard. Evie?

  Who knows what Evie would do? She's even crazier than me. I don't need anyone else to solve a problem that I got myself into.

  So I sat there in the shabby studio I'd rushed to rent with the cash I had. The place was only six hundred dollars a month—no kitchen, just a tiny space with a little bathroom. Five-thousand dollars remained in my pocket. By the end of the week, I figured Dad would be looking for me, and the easiest way to find me would be through my credit card purchases. I didn't want to deal him now. Hiding out with cash would buy me a few more days, maybe even another week.

  I kill Malcolm, and then I rest, and then I'll go home.

  For now, I could escape in the mural-rich streets of Wynwood. Hipsters and artsy folk littered these blocks. Most of them glowed with green auras. Anyone with that dominant color was usually highly creative, yet down to earth. I didn’t understand much about my sight. Every now and then, I googled this or that. Most of the time, I winged it. More layers wrapped around people, but I only focused on the main one that came close to hurting my eyes when I stared for too long.

  Malcolm had a dirty yellow aura, a dullness I ignored and pretended was just fine even though it darkened all the time and changed to black just like Cynthia’s, signaling something was wrong with their spirit. Black tended to symbolize victims of darkness—drug addicts, divorcees, depressives, and the abused. Black indicated hatred, depression, and misery.

  “So you can see auras?” Malcolm held me in his arms. “What’s mine?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  He traced my jaw with his index finger. “Tell me.”

  “Your aura is dehydrated piss yellow.”

  “Is that good?”

  “It’s suspect.”

  “Why?”

  “You darken a lot, where most would brighten.”

  “I’m not most people.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “What do you mean I darken?”

  “Sometimes you shift to black.”

  “Which isn’t good?”

  “No. Thankfully, you’re usually yellow, which means you’re analytical and very intelligent. A workaholic prone to mental health pressures.”

  “Does everyone have an aura?” he asked.

  “Any breathing thing has an aura. It’s like this large energy field, about three or four feet around the body.”

  He traced little circles at the center of my chest. “Thank goodness it’s not bigger than that.”

  “I’ve seen huge ones. I read that an incest or rape survivor could have an aura of over fifty feet.”

  “Is that a good or bad thing?”

  “I have no idea. It’s not like I have training. I’ve just always seen colors around people. I thought everyone saw them too. I pointed it out to my mom once. I pointed at this guy and giggled, ‘Mom, why does he have that pink glow?’”

  “What did she say?”

  “She told me she never saw anything. Years later, I continued to ask people, and no one else spotted the colors.”

  “What made you realize they were auras?”

  “I looked it up, but in the end,” I sighed, “maybe, it’s not even auras. Perhaps, I’m just fucking crazy.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “I love crazy.” He smoothed his mouth against mine, and my body hummed all over. Our tongues lapped and glided within each other’s mouths. We groaned together, rubbing our bodies against each other.

  He brushed his lips along my mouth and down my chin, nipping at the curve of my neck. “I love your skin.”

  “I am a sexy god.”

  “You are, and this skin is so pale and flawless.”

  “Yes, continue.”

  “I want to cut you.”

  I stiffened against him. His aura darkened in front of my eyes, but I pretended it didn’t and closed my eyes. “Why do you want to cut me, Malcolm?”

  He landed a small bite on my collar bone. “Because sometimes I like to hear angels cry.”

  With shaking fingers, I touched my face for the hundredth time that day. Why didn’t I leave him alone? Thick lines greeted my fingertips. It was why I sat in the shadows. I couldn't even turn on the lights or lift up the shades.

  I could see my own aura. Purple light radiated from my flesh. People with that glow were highly psychic and attuned to other’s emotions. Although we held a wide circle of many friends, most purple individuals remained unlucky in love until they found their perfect soul mate.

  And my aura is darkening to black. Just like Cynthia and him. I’m damaged now.

  Chapter Seven

  Jay

  Evie and I had finished two bottles of champagne before the stewardess cut us off. I gave her a big tip to soften her annoyance. Everyone else in first class tucked in for a short nap. We were barely a six-hour drive from Miami, and the plane trip would be no more than an hour and a half from take-off to landing. I had to move fast.

  “So, tell me about Mary's Little Lamb.”

  With droopy eyelids, Evie leaned on her chair, facing me. I'd tucked her in one of my blankets from my dorm room. Every time we traveled together, she bitched about the cold temperature on a plane. I patted myself on the back for remembering to bring it for her.

  One step at a time. I won't give up. It just takes dedication.

  “Stop calling him Mary's Little Lamb,” she slurred. “He's a sweet guy and trust me, he's no one’s little anything.”

  Aww, so he's a big douchebag? He's not bigger than me. I'll fucking crush him if it comes to that.

  “Interesting.” I forced a smile and scooted closer to her, resting my elbow on the arm chair between us. This way, only a few inches lay between our mouths. I wanted to kiss her, but I couldn't.

  Take your time. Breathe. Don't scare her. Focus on the long-term goal. Some fast plays get a few points, but the most strategic ones win the game.

  “He play sports?” I asked.

  “No. He's a music major.” She yawned.

  “How did you meet him?”

  A giggle escaped her lips. “I'm not telling you.”

  “Why?”

  “It's embarrassing.�
��

  “Oh, now you have to tell me.”

  “I met him off College Crush.”

  “What's that?”

  She gave me a curious look. “It's a top online dating site for college kids. I'm shocked you haven't heard of it, but you are doing big things.”

  No. I'm just going to the gym and stalking you.

  “Anyway, you fill out a personal questionnaire and the site matches you to guys. Lamm came up as a ninety-seven percent match. I figured that, due to that fact, I might have an eighty percent chance of liking him.”

  Leave it to Evie to make love a mathematical equation.

  “So you started talking to him on the phone?” I asked.

  “Yeah. First through emails, then we exchanged Facebook profiles. That's a big thing for me. I had to make sure he wasn't a serial killer.”

  She's been talking to him all this time?

  Evie continued, “We've recently been skyping. We had a video date.” A smile spread on her face as her eyes brightened, or maybe it was all my imagination.

  I forced a smile. “Skype date? Tell me about it.”

  “It was kind of cute. We were supposed to meet on webcam through Skype of course at 8:00 p.m. this one Saturday night. We both had our TV's in sync to play the same movie, that new artsy flick, ‘The Mathematician.’” She giggled at something as if it was an inside joke they had and she'd just remembered it. I almost tore the arm off the chair between us.

  “He loves artsy flicks. I love math,” she said. “It was a perfect film. We both ordered the same pizza. It was so cool, just to have someone there for a few hours. I don't know, but the best part was...”

  Oh yes. Please give me more reason to hurt this guy. What was the best part?

  She grinned like a crazy woman. “Someone knocked at my door an hour into the movie. Lamm had sent me flowers like it was one of those traditional dates. He got major cool points for that.”

  I said through clenched teeth, “He should get points for that. You deserve to be spoiled. Where do you think this is going?”

  “I don't know, but he's been fun to get to know,” she offered and then paused as if finally seeing the anger on my face. It had been hard to hide it.

  The woman I was in love with sat in front of me talking about how much fun she was having with a guy she was getting to know. And I had to keep my mouth closed and deal with it. Hadn't we already been in a situation like this before? Hadn’t we just been in different positions? Hadn’t she sat where I was, listening to my adoration for Cynthia?

  This is not fun at all. How long did Evie have to deal with this shit? I could kill this lamb guy.

  “I'm sorry,” she said. “This is probably crazy talking about this.”

  “No.” It was the only word I could say in the moment that hopefully didn't sound like a blatant lie.

  “You and I are friends now, but it may take time before we can start talking about who we're dating.”

  “Maybe. Are you dating anyone else?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “Lamm is all that I'm talking to for now.”

  “Do you have room for more?”

  Burping, she chuckled. “Maybe after exams. Perhaps, I could form my only little threesome. Can you imagine me with two guys in a relationship?”

  I had to stifle a fucking growl. The very thought shoved rage into my heart. Threesome relationship? With who? Even if it was me and someone else, I couldn't last an hour. I'd go crazy if someone touched Evie right in front of me. It was hard enough dealing with Pipe’s hands all over her.

  “I bet two men would be hard to manage.” She twisted around and stretched her legs out. “I don't know how you did it with Cynthia and me.”

  The mention of us three incited pain in my heart. Jealousy mingled with regret. Here I was, thinking I could never share her, and now she had to remind me of my selfishness for forcing her to share.

  Well played, Evie. You have no idea that you're doing it, but you're fucking teaching me a lesson for sure. Breathe. Focus. Continue to play the game.

  “Are you tired?” I asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Are you relaxed?” I turned off the lights above us. We'd been the only two in first class still up and with our tiny bulbs on.

  “I'm fine, Mr. Jay Trip Connoisseur for the Stars.”

  “You think you would have sex with this guy?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You do. You’re a sexual animal.”

  “I’ve been taking care of myself.”

  “No woman on your level should have to do that.”

  “I’m good at pleasing me.”

  “I’m good at pleasing you too.”

  She laughed. “Yes, but when I please myself, it doesn’t come with all the confusion and drama.”

  “You miss my tongue?”

  She parted her lips.

  “Do you?”

  Those eyes shifted to the horny cat ones she always did. I would have bet a hundred dollars she was getting wet.

  “I miss tasting you,” I whispered.

  “Jay...”

  “I do.”

  “Can you chill on relationship stuff for a few minutes?” she asked.

  “This isn’t relationship stuff that I’m talking about now.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yes.” I leaned in closer and brushed my lips against hers. She shivered against my mouth but didn’t move away.

  “I’m talking about licking that soft space between your thighs.” I rubbed my bottom lip against hers. A low sigh left that soft mouth.

  “I miss tasting you.” I still didn’t kiss her yet. Instead, I slipped my mouth against hers and outlined it with mine, never consuming those lips, never sucking on that tongue like I wanted to. A tiny moan came from her as she closed her eyes. “Do you miss my tongue?”

  Sighing, she backed away from me. “I’m not answering that question.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it doesn’t matter.”

  “Why doesn’t it?”

  “Even if I did miss it, we couldn’t do anything about it.”

  My heart raced in my chest. “Says who?”

  “The airplane staff.”

  I looked around. No one moved in the dark aisle. The one guy in the seat across from us typed into his computer with earplugs stuffed into his ears. The couple directly behind us leaned into each other and snored. Even the stewardess was further up front in her chair and chatting with the other one.

  “Let’s see.” I slid down to the floor before Evie understood what I was going to do. I was a big guy. First class provided decent leg room, but not enough for me to get on my knees in the most comfortable way possible.

  “Umm. What are you doing?” she asked as I edged my big body around her little legs and got between them. It was almost impossible; my lower half remained where my feet had been resting.

  Removing the blanket off of her, she lifted her leg up and placed it on my empty seat more to not get her thighs pressed into the metal of the chair.

  She whispered, “Get back in your seat.”

  “Lift up your other leg.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I'll be quick.”

  “No.”

  “This is just a test.”

  She tossed me a skeptical look. “A test?”

  I’m so glad you wore those little shorts.

  “Let me just see if I can get my lips down to yours...without looking obvious.” I grabbed her thighs. Her flesh shivered against my huge hands. She panted, nervous little breaths. I knew that rhythm, understood that she was already wet even though she didn't want to be.

  Lamm can play you piano, baby. I can play your body. I know it better than you do.

  I kissed her thighs as she tried to scoot back and escape me.

  “You're insane. Get up. This is crazy.” Her voice was representative of a person doing their best not
to be heard, but still having their words carrying louder than necessary. “Jay...”

  I bit her thigh, and she groaned. I breathed in her arousal. Evie had this unique scent about her—a mixture of flowers and woman. I could taste the slickness of her heat on my tongue. Saliva dripped from the edges of my mouth just to sample her.

  I glanced up. Evie's mouth remained open in shock. Both of her legs were spread awkwardly up—one leg dangling over the arm chair, its foot touching my back, the other leg pressed up near the window.

  “You want me to stop, Evie?”

  She bit her lip. The center of her legs greeted my eyes, and Evie had nothing else to say.

  Score one for Jay.

  It never took me time to get her in the mood—just my lips on that pussy shoved her off the edge. My mouth just needed to be close enough for her to see the inevitable. She understood what I was capable of when it was just her moist lips and my tongue. She'd told me once that my tasting her made her high, more faded than any hit from a blunt.

  Well, I'm hoping you're telling me the truth. Hopefully, the chocolate and champagne made you take your battle armor off.

  “Jay,” she whispered right as I yanked her tiny shorts to the side and exposed that lovely cunt.

  Oh, how I missed you.

  “Jay...please don't...”

  I blew air against those wet lips. They glistened. She was so ready.

  “Jay.” My name came out of her mouth with a plea. “Please, don't.”

  Her legs shook in the seat.

  I looked up at her. “You want me to stop?”

  “You know what I want, but it will just...I don't know.” She bit her bottom lip. “I don't think we should.”

  “One lick? Please? I'll stop after one lick.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair.

  “Just one lick, baby.”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  “Can I do anything else?”

  She gripped the chair’s arms.

  Before she could answer, I lapped at her center—one long stroke from the cushion of her behind to the softest cent of her core. That lick was a tongue lashing. I barely moved a half an inch every three or five seconds. I wanted her to feel the thickness of my tongue right on her and think about how good it felt.

  Separating her folds with my tongue, I continued my slow journey up to her plump clit, circling that bud until it throbbed.