Phoenix Rising Page 3

  “Come.” Macen carted the tray to a table on a small second story platform. “I’ll expect you here for no less than three meals this weekend. I will know if you don’t show up, Riles. You don’t want me coming for you.”

  “I’m not part of your pack. You aren’t obligated to tend me.” I stiffened my stance. “I can handle myself.”

  Setting the tray down, he studied me from the other side of the table. I shrank beneath his scrutiny until his gaze traveled downward in a slow, leisurely caress which left my skin heated and my breathing raspy.

  This wasn’t good. An attraction like this spelled disaster with a capital D. Cunning Alphas would use whatever hold they had on a person if given half a chance. Macen was cunning without question. I needed to sever whatever I sensed developing between us.

  It was new—thrilling and exciting—yet terrifying. Sensations I’d never experienced erupted within me. Heated skin, labored breaths, hardened nipples, and a throb between my legs. I was aroused. The shock flooded me with a new wave of headiness. I wanted more of this, wanted to experience what happened after. I couldn’t take the risk.

  “I have no doubt you’ve tended yourself for a long time.”

  “Good, then we agree. I appreciate your kindness today, but I will manage well enough on my own beginning tomorrow.” There. I mentally snapped the attraction tethering us together. Determination made my stomach lurch and my pulse quicken with an agitation I couldn’t abate.

  “We’ll see, Riles. We’ll see.” He dragged a chair from the table and motioned. “Sit. Eat.”

  I inhaled the food and embraced the silence around me. Macen stood guard at the base of the second stairwell. Thankful for the moment of solitude, I steeled my nerves. Today had been a day. A bad one.

  But I was free.

  I swallowed more than I chewed, shoveling the food into me like a starved man on execution day. I gulped the entire glass of tea in one fast inhalation. Another appeared in front of me before I could think to ask for more.

  I glanced up at the hand holding the glass and stammered at Logan’s grin. “I love a woman who knows how to eat.”

  The teasing tone set me at ease as I continued powering my way through my food. I’d set the bars and peanut butter and apples aside along with the crackers. Everything else was fair game. Thank goodness my stomach kept up, accepting everything with a rumble for more.

  I loved this place. This food. The bread wasn’t stale; the vegetables weren’t on the verge of rotten. The food wasn’t leftovers no one else wanted. It was mine. All mine.

  Elation filled me. I was a stranger. The slate was erased, blank for new experiences. This was my chance to live normally, make friends. Sure, I wasn’t in the best hall, and I had next to no money. The meal ticket was all I needed, and this was a college town. I’d find a job. I was good at a lot of things—washing dishes, scrubbing floors and toilets. I’d done it all for an entire pack. Surely, I could handle a job here, whatever it was.

  I tried to swallow the belch rising from my throat, but it tumbled out freely, no doubt empowered by new mindset—one I’d achieved thanks to the brief moments of security Macen and his pack had offered. Heat rose in my cheeks when I looked over at the two men who’d dutifully sat and watched me inhale my food with the efficiency of a Hoover.

  Macen’s grin made my stomach flip-flop in a good way. I took a few slow sips of the sweet tea as my gaze darted over to a buffet table I hadn’t seen. Desserts. A smirk appeared on his face as he rose. “Chocolate?”

  I nodded, a little embarrassed. I’d packed away enough food for a rather large family already. I hadn’t had devil’s food cake since my fifth birthday—the last party I’d had.

  Don’t think about the past. Embrace the future.

  “Thanks.” I flashed a tentative grin at him as I picked up the fork and devoured my cake, a dueling blend of dark chocolate and something else…cherry, maybe? I ate two pieces to be precise. Jesus, this was the best shit I’d ever had. I flicked my tongue over the frosting still on the fork and glanced down at the plate longingly. I’d lick it clean, but I had to have at least a little decorum here, right?

  I sucked the last bit of frosting from the fork while my gaze met Macen’s. Something moved within me, caressing against the underside of my skin. I shivered as moisture pooled between my legs when I imagined tasting his skin, licking along his neck, down his chest. He’d taste better than this cake.

  His nostrils flared, his eyes widening as he leaned back and mumbled, “I’ll never look at cake the same ever again.”

  Dear God, they sensed I was turned on. How could I not remember they’d sense that even if I wasn’t wolf? I’d lived with that terror most of my life—afraid my emotions would be misconstrued by the wrong person.

  “Don’t.” Macen grabbed my hand and squeezed until my fear subsided and the warm calm returned, pooling in my limbs as though I was floating on air. “Don’t ever be ashamed of what you feel, Riles. Ever.”

  “I didn’t mean to get so excited about cake.”

  “It certainly makes me look at it with an all new respect,” Macen teased.

  “No shit.” Logan stood. “Suddenly, I’m in the mood to go run. Maybe to China, possibly Australia. I’ll let you know.”

  Had I upset them? Maybe they were too polite to speak their mind. I’d never known wolves like that, but perhaps they existed. My packed stomach was unsettled until Macen’s hand rested on mine. The warmth seeped into the stinging coolness my fear had started. I didn’t want to upset them. They’d been kind to me.

  “Don’t mind him. We’re still housebreaking him.”

  Logan growled from halfway down the stairs. I couldn’t help but laugh. Macen’s eyes lit with golden flecks, his full lips turned into a grin. Yeah, this man was everything I’d sworn to never hope for and everything I wanted.

  Maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all. Grasping the new seeds of hope I’d planted, I stood and grabbed one of the bags from the corner of the room. Filling it with my leftovers, I breathed a small sigh of relief.

  Thanks to Macen’s kindness, I’d have food for the weekend. The limited funds I had wouldn’t last long. I didn’t know how much thirty dollars would get me, but it wouldn’t be much. Then again, I was a student. I didn’t need much.

  I made my way down the stairs and fell into step beside Macen as we returned outside and continued the trudge to my new quarters. Each step seemed to make those around me grimmer. Clearly, there were things I had yet to figure out about Ruger Hall.

  We reached a makeshift checkpoint of some sort. The guards turned and regarded Macen and his crew. “This is where you leave.”

  Macen palmed my face and dragged my gaze upward to lock with his. “If you need anything at all, call Wolf Hall. Or better yet, call the ROAR hotline. They’ll help you.”

  I nodded. I didn’t exactly have a phone, but I’d figure something out. He’d already done too much.

  “Breakfast tomorrow.” He grinned. “I almost hope you forget so I have reason to chase you.”

  My belly fluttered with awareness. I wasn’t used to flirtation. He kissed my forehead and left.

  The guards motioned for me to continue. We walked for longer than I’d expected. Darkness enveloped Ruger Hall as though the few lone rays of sunlight glimmering on the horizon couldn’t break through the hall’s gloom.

  We stopped at the base of the structure, which sat on a hilltop on the otherwise desolate stretch of campus.

  “There’s a staircase to the left. You’re in room two hundred twelve at the end of the hall on the right.” The security guard made no move to enter. “No one from Ruger Hall is allowed beyond the entry gate we passed a few hundred yards back until dawn. If you have a problem, call the security in this dorm. This isn’t our jurisdiction.”

  I dragged my suitcase behind me as I ignored the unease pinging along my spine.

  I studied the dark entryway, the even gloomier décor—black furniture, dark gray wal
ls offset by flickers of light from red candles. Thick, blood-red curtains covered the windows, swallowing any light. A large parlor was to the right. Ignoring it and any possible inhabitants, I made my way up the steep, narrow staircase. The stereotypical décor accomplished its purpose—to terrify the ever-living shit out of me.

  My pulse quickened when I began walking down the narrower, darker hallway. The grating of unmoving plastic against worn carpet made me shudder. Goose bumps formed on my arms. Someone was watching me. Doors cracked open when I passed, but no one exited or offered a welcome. Nothing in this place screamed welcome. The dark, foreboding interior was a cliché in a Goth sort of way.

  Trapped here until morning, I fought the urge to sprint from the place and find Macen. My frayed nerves screamed for a shred of normalcy. I was free from Cervantez pack restrictions. I’d waited for this moment for years, never realizing how isolating it would be.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  I stared at the door and wondered if I should knock. Did I have a roommate? Was there a monitor I was supposed to check in with? Was there a brochure I could pick up on Roommate Etiquette 101? I’d never shared a space with another person before. What if I screwed up and pissed her off? Or worse, what if my inquisitive nature took control and I offended her? The questions ping-ponged around—lost in the void of things I didn’t know. They were the least of my worries.

  Shoving the mouse persona I’d embraced my entire life aside and channeling my inner Riles, I turned the nob and pushed on the door until it gave way. A lone bulb cast a pale, yellow light into a black room. Black walls, black furniture, black everything. A Goth invasion had entered and vomited its bleak décor on the small room.

  “What do you want?”

  A girl exited what I assumed was a bathroom. With a hand on one lean hip, she glared at me through two inches of mascara and eyeliner. Black eyes speckled with flecks of red studied me until I averted my gaze. She was thin, tall—Hell’s version of a runway model.

  Ruger Hall was demonic land. Few universities embraced Demonia’s desire to educate their youth in Earthen ways. None of the customs and traditions ingrained in me would do any good here. I was, once again, nothing.

  “I’m Riletta. Your roommate, I assume.”

  “Huh.” She smacked blackened lips and approached. Long, blue-painted fingernails strummed against her neck, a sharp contrast to her alabaster skin. “What are you?”

  “Good question.”

  “I thought so.” She waited a moment before sighing. “You aren’t gonna tell?”

  I moved to the empty side of the room and set my meager belongings on the bed, taking special care to extract the pilfered fruit and crackers I’d stashed in my pockets like a squirrel gone rabid.

  “You expecting an Apocalypse I need to know about?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Well, keep that shit on your side of the room. If I see rats or bugs because of it, you and me are gonna have issues.” She flashed a set of fangs and shrugged into a leather jacket. “So, what the hell are you?”

  “Don’t know; don’t care.” Indifference seemed the best defense. “What are you?”

  “Half vampire, half demon. I was raised in the Earthen dimension, which is why they seemed to think I could deal with your ass when we got stuck with you. Totally not cool. So keep your shit on your side, and don’t get in my business.”

  “Okay.”

  “You know anything about Ruger Hall?”

  I shook my head and unzipped my suitcase, trying to focus on anything aside from the furious pumping of my blood. Demons. I knew nothing about Demonia. I was ignorant about cultural beliefs, dietary needs. I was totally unsuited for my new surroundings.

  “I can practically taste your fear. That’s some really strong shit for my kind. You’re best sticking to the room for the first couple of months. This wing is all freshmen. Most of them just got here from Demonia where you’d be an appetizer before the feast.”

  Great.

  “We all signed agreements not to bite or feed, but that wouldn’t stop the succubus demons from whipping you into frenzy and getting drunk off your fear. I’d almost pay money to see that shit.” She wedged her feet into combat boots and stood fully. “You always glimmer?”

  “I glimmer?”

  “Maybe it’s the lighting on your pale-ass skin.” She shrugged. “I’m light, but you give a whole new meaning to the term, you know?”

  “I guess.”

  “Whatever.” She grabbed a set of keys from a peg at the door. “Just so you know, it’s gonna suck ass for you here. Our classes are all at night, so the rest of the campus can breathe easy and not be around us. We’re too cool to hang with their shitty asses anyway.

  “Summation for you—we’re loud and in charge at night. You aren’t shit. Stay in the room and I’ll try to keep them from messing with you as long as you don’t piss me off. Got me?”

  “Yeah.” I would’ve agreed to anything to get her gone. I needed time alone to think, figure out what I was going to do—if there was anything I could do.

  It wasn’t like I had a treasure-trove of resources at my disposal. The card Van had offered. It was a hotline of some sort. Maybe they could offer some advice. It couldn’t hurt. “Is there a phone around here?”

  “You believe cell phones rot our brains?”

  “No, just can’t afford one.”

  “Whatever. It’s on the desk over here. It’s routed to Demonia, so don’t go calling Kansas.”

  “I’m not from Kansas.”

  She turned and shook her head. “What do you shift into?”

  “I can’t shift.”

  “So, you’re not a shifter.”

  “I am. I think. I just don’t shift.”

  “I could bite you if you want to know. I could taste what you are in your blood. Maybe. It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to bite anyone. Wanna try?” The hopeful lilt in her voice pinged my oh shit meter into the red.

  “No thanks.” I reversed until the backs of my knees thumped against the bed. “Appreciate it, though.”

  “Whatever.” She rubbed her temples. “I’ve already got a headache twenty minutes into dealing with your ass. I deserve a bump in my grades or a cut of the money the dean got to take you in.”

  “Have fun.”

  She turned the nob and froze in the doorway. Turning to face me, she glared. “You’re going to sit here and get mopey and weepy and shit. I can’t stand that shit—makes the back of my mouth bitter and my sinuses swell.”

  “Sorry.”

  “That’s it.” She slammed the door while on the wrong side. I wanted her gone. “Get some decent clothes on. You’re going to Temple with me.”

  Temple didn’t sound like a place I wanted to go. “No thanks.”

  “Not an option. You, sitting here, sorting your mental shit is gonna make me sick when I get back. It’ll ooze into the vents and get everyone around us fucked up, too, and I ain’t putting up with their crap ’cause you’re all weepy and shit. Got me?”

  I didn’t respond. What could I say? Tears burned the back of my eyes, and I tasted the screams in my throat. I was terrified, pissed, and confused. I was lonely, desperate, and, did I mention, terrified out of my ever-living, fucking mind? Oh, yeah, and I was a little sick of being everyone’s chew toy.

  “That’s more like it.” She smirked as she focused on my suitcase. “Keep the last thought, whatever it was. Own it, make it your bitch. Live it tonight, and you might actually make it a week in Ruger. You’ve got some serious mojo when you channel it.”

  She fished through my clothes, tossing them into two heaps on the floor at the end of the bed. “I’ve had cleaning rags with more style than this crap. Newer, too. You wear this shit?”

  “Sorry, Gucci wasn’t on my route here.”

  “Smart ass doesn’t suit you, Princess Barbie.”

  “My name’s Riletta.”

  “Whatever.” She grabbed a T-shir
t from her drawer and tossed it to me. “Throw this on so they won’t give me shit.”

  I complied, pretty sure I wasn’t going with her.

  “And don’t even think about not going. Five minutes alone and everyone in a half mile radius will sense your breakdown. You’re like the last crack pipe in a room full of addicts.”

  “So, you’re taking me to this temple where they all are anyway? How will that help?”

  “You focus on your shit, and we taste it. You focus on ours, and you’re just a princess out of place—a curiosity we’ll want to gnaw on, but we’ll eventually spit you out.”

  “Lovely.”

  “I thought so.” She opened the door after I’d donned the shirt. “Let’s move.”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m not an overly religious person.”

  “Cute.” She laughed. “Look, you come and show your face so I don’t deal with the questions about your ass for a week, and I’ll get your innocent Princess Barbie ass home so you can crash. You keep your shit together for the next few days, and I’ll get you alone where you can sort your ass however you want. We good?”

  We were so not good. I nodded anyway. “I don’t even know your name.”

  She didn’t respond until we were outside and standing beside a large Harley Davidson motorcycle. Sleek black mingled with fiery orange flame work. It was hot and dangerous, much like the woman.

  Yeah, I was totally crushing on her bad ass persona. Why couldn’t I be more like her? Were there classes I could take? Bad Ass 101 perhaps?

  She straddled the bike with a gruff, “Get on.”

  I’d never been on a motorcycle, but didn’t think she was in the mood to know that. Over the years, I’d learned when to shut it, and this was most certainly one of those moments.

  The machine purred and growled beneath us like a primal beast waiting to be tamed. It reminded me of Macen in a lot of ways. My pulse quickened beneath my skin. Something within me lapped up the sensations, reveling in the freeness of the dark cloaking us.

  “Yeah, you aren’t weepy any more, are you?” She chuckled. “Name’s Vira.”

  “Like Elvira?”