I open my mouth, ready to unload on him, but then Wes strides into the kitchen and chimes right in on the conversation.
“She belongs to all of us, right?” he remarks, dropping into the chair across from me at the table and reaching for the cereal box.
“Sleepovers were never part of the fucking agreement,” I snap, struggling to keep my cool.
“What’s the big deal?” Ford scoffs, pushing off from the doorframe and sauntering over to join us in the kitchen. He leans an elbow against the counter, perfectly at ease. “Jealous ‘cause she doesn’t wanna sleep inyourbed?” he taunts, arching a brow.
“I don’t give a shit what she wants,” I grit out, every syllable carrying the force of my barely restrained anger. “This isn’t about her fucking wants and needs. It’s about controlling her. Punishing her. Fuckingruiningher.”
“I get next sleepover,” Wes announces, shoving a hand into the cereal box and pulling out a fistful to eat dry.
“No,” I snarl, rage unfurling by the second. “No. Fucking. Sleepovers.”
Ford and Wes both look at me like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have. The shadows are dangerously close lately, my control over them slipping the longer I’m forced to cohabitate with the spawn of my father’s whore.
“Why not?” Ford questions, clearly missing the fucking point. “She’s our Doll, isn’t she? Why not enjoy the perks?”
“Because it’s not fucking real!” I seethe, slapping a palm down on the tabletop, my cereal bowl rattling against the lacquered surface.
“What do you mean it isn’t real?” Ava asks meekly, peering into the kitchen from the hall.
Fuck.
This is a prime example of why she shouldn’t be here– because we can’t even have a fucking private conversation without her busting in on it and asking questions.
Questions that she definitely isn’t getting the real answers to.
Ford and Wes both dart glances my way, and I think fast on my feet. “You’re still on probation,” I grumble, spooning another bite of cereal from my bowl. “None of this is official until you’ve proven your loyalty and are properly initiated.”
“Okay,” she replies slowly, drawing out the word as she takes a timid step into the kitchen. “So, when do I get initiated then? What does that entail?”
“Loyalty first,” I grumble, shoving the spoon in my mouth and effectively ending the conversation.
“Can’t let you in on the inner workings of the society until you’re worthy,” Wes adds with a wink. His eyes wander down her body unabashedly, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a little smirk. “Grab your backpack and let’s get going, we’ve got a Stats exam to crush.”
Ava huffs a frustrated sigh, spinning on a heel and stomping off down the hall back to her room.
Wes swings his gaze on me, arching a brow, and I glare back, daring him to say something else.
He wisely doesn’t.
“Guess that means we’ve all gotta get ready to go then, huh?” Ford sighs, pushing off from the counter.
I drop my spoon into the bowl with a loud clatter, shoving to my feet. “Sure, let’s go keep up fucking appearances, shall we?” I scoff bitterly. “God forbid the sheep miss out on their daily show.”
The bullshitover breakfast puts me in a foul mood for the rest of the day. By the time afternoon rolls around, I consider skipping my English Lit class and hitting the weight room instead, yet somehow wind up wandering into the lecture hall anyway. I’m all by myself up in the back corner now that Chelsea’s been relegated to sitting on the opposite side of the room, but I don’t mind it one bit. I prefer the solitude to her trivial, incessant chatter.
Ava sits up front like the fucking teacher’s pet, and I stare at the back of her head for the entire lecture while Professor Turner drones on about symbolism and some other pretentious bullshit.Ava never turns around, but I know she feels the weight of my glare. It’s obvious from the tense set of her posture and every uncomfortable shift in her chair that she’s painfully aware of the predator in her midst.
When Turner finally dismisses the class, she summons everyone to the front of the room to collect our graded assignments on the way out– some bullshit paper that Ford had Ava write for me. Normally, I shove off my homework assignments to eager nerds who want to get in the Kings’ good graces, but the opportunity to torture Ava was just too ripe to pass up.Let’s hope she earned me an A, or there’ll be hell to pay.
Ava’s the first to Turner’s desk– becauseof fucking courseshe is– and she takes her paper from our professor with a brittle smile, spinning around and quickly darting up the aisle to leave. I catch her by the elbow before she can blow past me, those doe eyes widening in fear as I yank her to a stop.
“Wait for me outside,” I direct, drinking in her fear like an addict before releasing my grip and allowing her to scramble away.
A satisfied smile spreads across my lips. While I could easily jump to the front of the line at any point, I think I’ll stay right where I am, let Ava stew for a while as she waits.
Slowly, I work my way to the front of the room, taking my sweet ass time while my classmates collect their assignments and leave. When I do finally get up to the front and approach Turner, however, rather than handing me my paper, she hesitates.
