ARABELLA
Ispend the weekend trying not to think about Romain. He was a gentleman, right up to the point where he went down on me and gave me an earth-shattering orgasm. Apart from asking me to wear a bloody dog collar, I had a surprisingly enjoyable time.
Monday morning, though, when I walk into class, sniggers and whispers make the hair stand up at the base of my neck. The lower sixth haven’t been involved with the bullying as much, so I’m immediately on edge. If this poison is creeping into my classrooms now…
There on the desk.
A collar.
I walk over to it.
It’s not Ravenclaw’s collar. Or the one Romain draped on my lap at the dinner. It’s an expensive-looking choker—black leather with silver fittings and diamonds. The silver name tag glares at me from the desk where it’s been placed for me to see.
Bella.
“Who did this?” I turn around and question the group. There are a few more suppressed laughs, but no one owns up. It doesn’t matter. I know who it is. It’s Romain. The bastard thinks this is funny. It’s not.
Romain is eating when I stride over at lunchtime. Zane and Carter are with him, girls hanging off them. For the first time, there’s no girl on Romain’s lap. For some reason, that makes me straighten up, a warmth spreading through my body.
“Ooh, here’s she comes,” Zane says. I ignore the prick and glare at Romain. Leaving the collar for me to find at school was a mistake.
I cross my arms. “Romain, I need to speak to you.”
He gives me a sideways glance and then lets out a sigh, getting to his feet. He saunters out.
Once we’re in a deserted classroom, I throw the collar at him. He catches it easily, eyes amused as he takes me in.
“You think this is funny?” I hiss.
Romain gives me an unapologetic look as he steps closer. “No. I think It’d look good on you.”
“I told you, no. This is what gets us caught.”
“If you want my protection, this is the price,” he drawls, towering over me with the choker in his hands.
“Never in a million years will I wear that,” I snap at him
His eyes darken, a storm of midnight drowning me in their depths. “Then it’ll only get worse. But maybe that’s what you want? My father said you were a whore. I’m beginning to think you are one.”
He strides out before I can find out what he means. What does he mean by that? Does his father know me?
I don’t seeRomain all day after that, or even the next day. The pranks ease off so that by mid-week, I’m beginning to think he was exaggerating.
I’m very wrong.
I’m standing in for Mr. Glover’s class when one of the junior boys runs in. He’s breathless and red-faced. “Miss. Miss. Come quickly.”
I’m one of the first aiders in the science block, so I don’t hesitate to follow him to the sports complex next door, where the swim team has a practice pool in the basement. There’s a boy on the edge of the pool, unmoving.
As I get closer, I can see it’s Zane Holland—muscled body glistening wet, covered only by his swimming trunks—unmoving and most likely unconscious. I don’t think about anything else. That he’s one of the top swimmers we have in the school. That there’s no swimming on today. I hardly pay attention to these thoughts as I do what I’ve been trained to, kneel down and begin CPR.
His lips are warm when I wrap my mouth around his. I’m not expecting his tongue to slide inside, nor his hand to grab the back of my head and haul me down. I jerk back, almost falling into the pool. Zane sits up and laughs, evil glinting in his eyes. I scramble away, sliding on the wet tiles.
“Going somewhere?” Carter snides. A rough hand drags me up off the floor by my hair.
He yanks my head back. My scalp burns where the roots are pulled tight, making my eyes water. Something between a shout and a yell comes out of my throat.
“Scream all you want,” Carter laughs. “No one can hear you all the way down here.”