I stare at Monica. She is on top of one guy. He’s sliding his cock inside her pussy, and the other guy behind her is lining the head of his cock up to her ass. She takes them both. Her moans grow louder over the music.
Saint’s hand rises slowly, and his knuckles brush the side of my neck.
My breath catches as Monica effortlessly takes them both. The three of them move in a rhythm.
Saint’s touch is barely there, yet my entire body reacts.
Saint steps closer, close enough that I feel his breath on my skin. Every breath I take feels heavier.
His voice lowers. “Everyone assumes Prey are helpless.”
I turn my head. His eyes hold mine. His pupils are dark and uncomfortably perceptive.
“They think power is always taken.” His words settle between us. “Sometimes it is.” His thumb traces lightly beneath my jaw. “Sometimes people choose the cage because they’re afraid of what happens outside of it but love what is done inside of it.”
A chill moves through me.
“You understand that, don’t you?”
The question isn’t really a question. He’s talking about Monica and what she likes inside that cage. He’s talking about Kenyan and what happens behind its walls. What is not listed on their brochure.
He’s talking about me and what I can choose to want, and somehow, those things feel connected.
Saint’s gaze never leaves mine. “That’s the dangerous thing about this place, Amy.” My name sounds different when he says it. Softer. Possessive. Almost reverent. “It doesn’t have to be about what people are forced to do.” His eyes drift briefly towardMonica and the two guys. Then back to me. “It’s about what you discover you wanted all along.”
The silence that follows settles over us like a confession, and the more I watch, the harder it becomes to separate fear from desire. Maybe they were never different things.
Maybe the most dangerous discovery is believing that darkness is something that happens to people.
Sometimes…you choose it.
Saint
Iwait until Amy disappears inside the dorm building. I wanted to stay but didn’t want to push her so soon. She was quiet after I showed her what goes on behind Kenyan’s walls.
She was stunned. And aroused. It took everything inside me not to take her to my bedroom. Just like it’s taking everything inside me to leave her here.
The old brick building swallows her whole. I walk down the path until her window comes into view. A light comes on. Then I see her silhouette pass briefly across the window before disappearing deeper into her room. Only then do I turn away.
The campus is quiet. It’s nearly two in the morning. The stone walkways glisten from an earlier rain, reflecting the amber glow of iron lampposts that have stood here longer than anyone alive remembers. Wind moves through the oaks lining the quad, carrying the distant sound of the breeze.
The party is over for me. I let Azriel and the others handle getting everyone out. I have enough staff to make sure everything gets cleaned up.
I pull my hood over my head and begin walking toward the south lot where my car waits. Three steps. That’s all I manage. Headlights sweep across the stone. Not one pair. Three. The engines are almost silent.
Three identical black Rolls-Royce Phantoms glide through the empty campus as though the university belongs to them. The convoy doesn’t slow until it reaches me. All three cars stop in perfect formation. One in front. One beside me. One behind.
Every door remains closed.
For several seconds, nothing happens. The engines idle. The headlights illuminate the old stone buildings. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell rings twice. Finally, the rear passenger door of the center Phantom opens but only halfway.
I have no idea who the fuck is inside. The windows are tinted so dark that all you see is the reflection of the campus building’s lights.
A man steps out. Black suit, black gloves, and silver hair cut impossibly short. I can’t place him.
My hands ball into fists as he closes the door behind him with measured precision before walking toward me.
He stops six feet away. “Saint.” His voice is calm.