What was his name again? I searched my fuzzy nightmares … Peter! Peter, the one they had listened to. Not the so-called headmaster, but they still followed him.
Dark and deadly, Rowan chuckled. “Leave the celibate alone. Leaves more for us, bro. Though from the sound of her heartbeat, she might die before we get a solid taste.”
He wasn’t lying. My heart felt like it might burst through my ribcage, but how could he hear it?
I turned my focus toward Peter. He had … saved me, right? Not all memories were clear, but I recall him sending several others away. Ones who been harassing me.
“I … I think there’s been some mistake. I need to leave, so please let me go.” My voice must have sounded like a mouse squeaking to a cat, because they all wore Cheshire grins.
“Nice try, but you can’t fool us, Witch.” Xander again. “Though if you cooperate, we might let you live.” He bit out the word ‘might.’
Cooperate, how? My eyes pivoted wildly among the three of them, afraid to let anyone out of my sight. Last night, I thought they had rescued me. Now I knew they were crazy. And dangerous.
Through my peripheral vision, I took in the room. Dark and decadent as the men before me. It looked like a Hollywood depiction of a luxurious vampire lair—all black and gold silk, satin, and leather, with heavy curtains blacking out the windows. I stifled a smirk at the stupid thought. They couldn’t be vampires, but they might be part of some wealthy gang. Or more likely, just some bored, nasty, rich boys from the North Shore with too much time and money on their hands while their hearts and minds went bankrupt.
Evil. That’s what I faced.
I fought to keep from squeezing my eyes shut against the tears threatening to leak ... and became uncomfortably aware that I was squeezing my thighs shut against the threat of a bladder leak. I’d just woken up and was terrified. Of course, my bladder would act up.
Rowan snickered and Peter’s expression turned to one of amused understanding. “I’ll show you to the bathroom.”
Nodding, I scrambled out of the large bed—how could I have thought I was in the dorm?—taking the sheet around me, still not willing to think about the implications of the fact that I was only wearing my t-shirt and panties. I didn’t want to go with him, didn’t trust him, but if there was a chance I could get to a bathroom, maybe I’d find a way to escape.
The thick, soft rug that stretched from under the bed gave way to cold marble tile under my feet and my urgency grew. “How far is it?” I asked, hating that even I could hear the fear in my voice.
He laughed. “Not far. Unfortunately, this room isn’t equipped with an en-suite, so you’ll have to take a little trek down the hall.” He opened one of the huge, carved wooden doors and stepped out into a corridor that carried on with the movie theme.
“What is this place?” I breathed, more to myself than to him.
“This section is one of the neutral guest rooms adjacent to the Sanguis wing.”
Of course, it was. “What does that even mean?” I muttered, tip-toeing a pee-pee dance across the cold marble. It could have been modeled after the palace of Versailles, sans the parquet floors.
I squealed when he scooped me off my feet. “It means,” he said as he took off at an impossible pace, “those cold-blooded bastards prefer things cold, hard, and dark, unlike we of Copulus House, who love warm, soft things.”
He deposited me in front of another opulent door. “Your throne awaits, M’lady,” he gestured with a flourish and a grin.
Desperate, I grabbed open the door and prayed, slamming it behind me. Thank god, there was a lock.
I flipped it with a satisfying click and took care of my most urgent business first. It gave me a moment to think. Where was I? Had they drugged me? Worse?
My entire body trembled in delayed reaction and I gasped for air to fill my tightened chest. Gaze darting about the room, I searched for weapons and came up empty. The room was surprisingly spartan, given the rest of the décor I’d seen so far, and there wasn’t a single window in sight.
Gold-streaked, black marble tiles covered the room from floor to ceiling, including the benches inside a large shower that took up the entire back wall. It should have been tacky, but somehow was not. It reeked of money—old money—and lots of it. After rinsing my hands in the gleaming sink, I tried lifting the small statuary that graced one corner of the counter. It was heavy, and awkward, but it was the only thing I found that I might be able use.
I debated for several moments. There was no way I could hide the statue under the sheet and wasn’t sure I could get the jump on Peter even if I went out wielding it like a club. I was five-feet-seven, but he was nearly a foot taller and several pounds heavier. I’d have to drop the sheet, too, in order to swing at his head.
What to do?
Wait it out.
Maybe if I stayed silent in there long enough, Peter would try to come in and I could bash him on the head when he did. I dithered for a moment, then quietly unlocked the door. If he had to break it down, I might not be able to swing at his head effectively. I waited behind the door so long that my hands and arms ached from holding the statue. When he finally spoke, it was in a tone of mild amusement.
“I know you couldn’t have escaped, and I heard you unlock the door.”
Shit!
“You didn’t break any glass, so no worries you might have harmed yourself or plan on slicing me. No crash against the marble, so I doubt you’ve fainted. So, what is it, pretty witch? What are you waiting for me to do? Must be pretty boring in there. Did you fall asleep? I guess you must be feeling a little drained after last night. Sorry about that.”
Motherfuc…. Temper getting the best of me, I put the statue down—my arms were trembling too hard to be much good at that point, anyway—and jerked the door open.
If you’d like to be notified when The Accursed Academy series will be released, send an email to kcdixonwriter@gmail.com with the subject “Accursed Academy.”
Also by the Author:
Writing as K.C. Dixon:
Ravenswood Academy of Magical Arts Series
The Claiming (Reverse Harem Dark Romance)
The Culling (Reverse Harem Dark Romance)
Writing as Keri Armstrong:
