“Achilles—”
“Leave something with me,” I murmur. “Some part of what’smine.”
She gives me a nervous look. “Like…what?”
I stroke my jaw and sit back against the bench. “Take off your panties.”
Her jaw just about breaks when it falls to the ground. “Excuse me?!”
“Take them off,” I say, not raising my voice one decibel. “And hand them to me.”
She stares at me. “You’re?—”
“Crazy? Possibly. Joking? No.”
“Why the hell would I do that?!”
“Because you’re mine,” I say calmly. “And because I’m telling you to.”
Her breath catches when I lean close.
“Or would you prefer I wrap your hair in my fist, bend you over, and do it myself in front of everyone.”
Half-surrounded by rosebushes as it is, the bench we're on is not hugely visible, but it’s not a private space, either. Yelena shivers, and I see the spark flicker in her eyes when I mention grabbing her hair in my fist.
“Fine,” she mumbles, blushing madly as she keeps her gaze averted, looking instead at her fingers in her lap, twisting and picking at each other.
She glances around, scanning the immediate vicinity for anyone who might be looking in our direction. I’m about to be helpful and offer to do itfor herwhen she suddenly half-stands and demurely slips her hands under her skirt.
A moment later, plain black cotton panties are being thrust into my palm.
They’re warm.
As if I wasn’t already rock-hard…
“I need to get to class,” Yelena mumbles, still not looking me in the eye as she pinches her knees together and nervously smooths down her skirt.
When I don’t say anything, she finally looks at me expectantly.
“Achilles?”
“Yes?”
Her face heats. “I…need them back?”
I smile and slowly shake my head. “These are mine now.” I stand as she looks up at me in wide-eyed shock. Then she gasps quietly when I lean down, putting a hand on either side of her and caging her against the bench with my body.
“Just like the rest of you.”
9
ACHILLES
Knightsblood,like pretty much every American college in history, has a significant percentage of its population which is both interested in drinking alcohol and not yet twenty-one. If you’re in need of a fake ID, you’d probably be able to score one at virtually any college campus in the country in less than a day.
At a mafia school, you can get a new fucking passport and social security number in a matter of hours.
So there's not much stopping the under-twenty-one population of Knightsblood from either getting a fake and heading to any of the bars in Hawthorne Hollow, or else just getting shitfaced in their dorm rooms like most college kids.