“New girl’s here,” I said loud enough for Tracey to turn around and gape. “So squeaky-clean and innocent. Like a little lamb. Right, Chase?” I tilted my head and offered her a smirk.
The old man reached in his jacket. It was a move I knew well. Another clue. He wasn’t what he said he was. He wasn’t who he said he was. As if noticing my calculating glare, he removed his hand and offered a forced smile. “A welcoming committee? This place sure is nice.”
I had to respect his control. The way he protectively stood in front of Tracey as if he was the only thing standing in the way of my devouring her.
“Is there a problem?” He scratched his head, then rolled back his sleeves, revealing a small tattoo. One I’d seen as a child but couldn’t place.
“Do I know you?” I blurted.
He laughed. “Know many farmers out in Wyoming?”
It was his tone that convinced me, the way his shook his head slightly, waiting for my challenge. It was the same look my uncle gave me when he wanted me to stop pushing.
It was the look that my dad had taught me when I was ten and had witnessed my first torture.
The girl was still staring at us. Easy target. I’d leave the old man alone; he reminded me too much of mine. And I didn’t need that reminder. Not now.
I lifted my arms and stretched lazily.
The girl’s eyes went wide as she stared at my body.
Chase hit me in the back.
I sauntered forward and tilted her chin toward me, closing her mouth in the process. “Much better.” I licked my lips and fought the urge to kiss her. Yeah, I was losing my shit. “We’d hate for our charity case to choke on an insect on her first day.” Her lips trembled as she looked from me to her Grandpa. I released her, before she could do anything, and walked past with Chase in tow.
I needed to talk to the girl at registration anyway. We disappeared behind the building, but I’d be back. I just needed the Grandpa to leave.
Within seconds, I peered around the building just as the rental car pulled away. And the girl was all mine. My heart thudded against my chest, and, for a second, I regretted what I was about to do.
But every possible outcome ended with either her death or her in danger. Weirdly, I didn’t want someone like her at Eagle Elite. She didn’t belong in my world.
She deserved a picket fence.
A husband.
A good college experience without classmates who’d rather see her commit suicide than survive the next four years.
They would destroy her.
And she would make it so damn easy to do so.
The only way was to beat them to it — to be the first, marking her as our target, our plaything.
Nobody messed with what was mine.
And in the end, nobody would mess with her. They’d allow me to entertain them with her innocence. I’d dangle her in front of them like a carrot, and at the end of the day, she’d be untouchable.
I sighed as she looked up at the building, gaping like someone who’d been homeschooled and never seen a skyscraper before.
She was too skinny.
I made a mental note to get her one of my access cards — she didn’t need to know how much they cost — or that every single student at EE would kill to have one. Mo would take care of the rest.
She’d eat with us.
She’d want for nothing.
It was the least I could do after what I was about to make her endure.
Licking my lips, I approached her again, this time, damning myself to hell with each step I took. “Are you lost?”
“Nope.” She grinned. Damn, it made her prettier. “Apparently I live in the United States.” With a shrug, she tried and failed to lift her heavy suitcase and nearly toppled over onto her cute ass.
I muffled a laugh, knowing that Chase was doing the exact same thing. Being mean to her would be like kicking a puppy. But the world was ugly. I just hated that I would be her tutor in the ways of reality — her prince of darkness.
Hell, I would have done anything to be the hero.
“I’m Nixon.” I stood directly in front of her, shifting my eyes from her poor-fitting clothes to her ugly shoes.
“Tracey, but everyone calls me Trace.” She held out her hand.
I itched to touch it.
To touch her skin.
Instead, I scowled, shook her hand, then wiped that same hand on my jeans as if she was diseased.
“Rules.”
“What?” She took a step back.
Chase moved past me, “He’s right. As cute as you are, Farm Girl, someone needs to tell you the rules.”
Her innocent gaze flickered between the two of us. “Can it be fast?”
Yeah, again, I almost lost my mind. Chase was probably ready to shit his pants. The last person who had talked back to him was Phoenix, and that had ended with a few broken bones and a trip to the dentist.