Eden

“We’re far from it.”

“If you’re thinking you get to blackmail me,” I start on a hiss that drips venom, “it’s not happening. I’d rather go to—”

“Shut your foolish little mouth,” he growls.

“Is your father pushing you to do this, Saint?” I continue. “Is that what this is? Daddy wants the scholarship kid gone and Saint gets right to it, like the good boy he is?”

He steps closer to me, crowding me. I peek around, worried that everyone will be gawking at us, but nobody’s watching. I have a feeling that’s not because they aren’t curious. It’s highly likely because they’re terrified of Saint’s temper.

After all, the bastard is their lord and master. When he snaps his fingers, they fall to their knees.

“This is just between me and you, Ellis—no one else. You don’t seem to understand exactly what I meant when I said you belonged to me,” he snarls in a low voice, though I’m sure the people next to us in line can still hear him. “If I call you, you answer. End of story.”

I clench my teeth until my jaw aches. “You make it really easy to hate you, you know that?”

“I don’t care if you hate me,” he snaps back. “As long as you remember your place with me, then you can fucking curse my soul to hell, I don’t give a shit.”

“My place?” I’m trying to maintain my composure so that we don’t cause a scene, but it’s growing increasingly difficult the more he pokes at my restraint. “You want to tell me what my goddamn place is, if it’s so important to you?”

“Ideally, underneath me.” He grins at his own lame joke, but his eyes flash with undisguised fury. I’ve hit a nerve—probably several. Good, let him be pissed. “But during those times when I’m not making you scream, I expect a certain level of obedience. You are mine.”

“What do you think this is? Do you think I’m going to be your sex slave or some shit?”

“Not a bad idea.” He looks so damn arrogant. I wish I could slap his smug face and tell him to go fuck himself, but really, I know that won’t stop him. I’ve more or less done those things to him already, and he’s still here.

“Never going to happen,” I spit.

He doesn’t look convinced.

Leaning down to my ear, he suggests, “I could put a collar on you, if that’d make you behave. I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

I jerk my head away from him. “Saint, stop.”

“Why? Have I said anything that doesn’t turn you on? Are your good, Southern girl morals finally starting to kick in after you’ve spent the last two semesters with me stuffing your—”

“You’re being a fucking dick, that’s why.” My cheeks are on fire because I can hear a few snickers behind me. “Would you just cut it out?”

He gives me a slow blink. “Only if you start doing what you’re told.”

“Go fuck yourself, Saint.” My voice cracks in my effort to keep from shouting at him. “I’m not your toy. Get that through your thick head.”

His lips dip down into a scowl, but I can tell it’s all an act. He’s enjoying this—making a scene. “You’re not playing nice, Ellis.”

I take my plate and shove it into his chest. He doesn’t even budge. “Eat a dick, Angelle, but make sure to save the other half for your father to choke on.” I move around him to storm away.

I don’t look back to see if he follows me, but I have a feeling he’s not. Good. I hope he’s as angry at me as I am with him. Pushy sonofabitch.

I stalk from the dining hall, skipping breakfast, a decision I come to regret later as I slog through my classes. I make it a point to ignore Saint in every period we share, but as the morning progresses, I’m less and less concerned with him and more and more eager for the end of the day so I can stuff my face in the privacy of my own room.

My stomach is growling so loudly, and I’m so focused on how hungry I am, I’m not paying much attention to where I’m walking on the way to history class. That’s the only reason Stalker Barbie is able to catch me off guard.

The shove seemingly comes out of nowhere. My back hits a bulletin board, the rubber backs of tacks digging into my flesh, and the breath rushes from my lungs. Eyes wide, I gape at Laurel, who’s standing with her hands balled into fists glaring at me. She’s all alone, no bimbo posse to be seen. And she looks furious, but I’m not sure what I did to make her so visibly angry. I don’t think I’ve done anything more than usual, at least.

“What now, cunt?” I snarl, my hands splaying out in front of me to push her back.

She jabs one of her stupidly long fingernails in my face. “You need to back the hell up.”

“ICE refusing to deport your stepmom again, Laurel? Is that it? You’re bitchier than usual.”

She comes at me, thrusting her face so close to mine that I can see the freckles through the makeup on her flared nostrils. “The whole school’s talking about your little show with Saint this morning at breakfast.”

I roll my eyes. Shit. I guess it was wishful thinking to have hoped I’d managed to keep my argument with Saint from being a public spectacle. It was likely a doomed effort from the start. I doubt Saint can do anything on this campus without everyone knowing about it, which is a wonder he’s accomplished so much carnage this year.

Pushing from the wall, I step forward to move around Laurel, but she rests a hand on my chest and pushes me back into the wall.

“You’re not walking away from me so easily, slut,” she snarls.

“You better take your hand off me before I smash your face into the floor.” It’s not an idle threat. Not today. I’m ready to lay her out if she doesn’t back off.

Maybe she can see in my eyes that I’m not fucking around, because she lowers her hand, but doesn’t step back to let me move away from her.

“You’re a whore,” she spits. “Everything was just fine around here before you came along. You’ve ruined everything, you redneck trailer trash freak. You stole Saint and killed my best friend and—”

“Your priorities seriously make me sick, but we both know I didn’t kill Saydi, so save your shit.” I tilt my head back and smirk. “And FYI, bitch, jealousy doesn’t look particularly good on you. You keep blaming me for Saint’s lack of interest in you, but I can’t take all the credit. It’s mostly your clingy personality and sloppy blowjobs that turn him off.”

Her eyes flash with rage and I know I’ve hit the bullseye. She really is ridiculously easy to read.

“He was mine,” she insists, her shoulders vibrating. “You stole him from me.”

“Was he really? That explains Rosalind, huh?”

I hate how much satisfaction I get at her crestfallen expression. I hate that she’s turned me into an asshole, but I’m a survivor first and foremost. If I’m not a bitch to her, she’ll eat me alive.

Her expression hardens again. “I’m going to say this once. If you don’t leave Angelview, and leave Saint alone, I’ll ruin your life.”

I almost laugh in her face. She has no idea how many people have threatened me with that before, and of all of them, she scares me the least. I’ve got drug addicts and a manipulative psycho mother back from the dead to deal with. A stuck-up mean girl whose only claim to fame is a tyrant father and a moment of cruel glory at an assembly doesn’t seem like as big of a threat anymore as she did my first semester here.

That realization gives me a strange boost of confidence.

“You know what, Laurel?” I say, pushing away from the wall and crowding into her. “I’m done here.”

She scoffs at me. “I’m not joking, you baby killing skank. I’ll fuck up your whole world if you—”