Sordid (Sordid 1)

“I meant I drank too much,” I said, compelled to explain.

His expression had gone flat and it remained indifferent. “Come on,” he said. “The car’s waiting.”

He threaded his fingers through mine and led me through the party, cutting a path to the front door. It was an enormous task, and halfway there, Luka’s arm was once again around my waist, keeping me from collapsing. I had to fight to keep my eyelids open and stay on my feet.

“Why am I so tired?” I said, but Luka had no response.

The cold night air was only slightly sobering. Pulled up in the circle drive, a man in jeans and a button-up shirt waited beside a black town car. I was guided down the front porch and into the driveway, and when I blinked, I was sitting on leather covering the back seat.

“I’m in Deacon Hall,” I murmured as Luka buckled me in. I couldn’t be bothered to do it myself, and somehow he knew. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, needing to take a minute. I didn’t fight him when his hand rested possessively on my thigh, his fingers skimming right at my hemline. We’d be at my dorm soon, and Luka’s spell over me would come to an end.

π

I blinked my blurry eyes and disorientation hit me, only to be crushed instantly by a wave of nausea and a horrifying pounding in my head. The pillow beneath me wasn’t my own. There was green striped wallpaper on the walls, not bland cream paint and obnoxious white lights Avery insisted on hanging. Where was I?

“Are you going to be sick again?” a deep, male voice asked, and I jolted upright, only to moan in agony. My hand flew to the throbbing in my temple, trying in vain to massage it away. I had to process each piece of information slowly, one at a time.

I was in a strange bed, curled up under the sheets. All my clothes, except for my shoes, were still on, although one of my knee-high socks was bunched at an ankle. Daylight streamed from the large bay window. Holy crap, what time was it? And the voice . . .

Across the room, Luka sat on the edge of a gold colored love seat, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He appeared showered and shaved, not the least bit hungover. My pulse kicked, and I hated it. The sight of him still gave me a rush.

However, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking with his fixed expression. He pocketed his cellphone and gave me his full, intense attention.

“Where am I?” My throat was scratchy and my voice hoarse.

“One of the guest rooms.” He stood and retrieved a red sports drink off of the floor, holding it out to me. I hadn’t realized how parched I was until he unscrewed the top and handed it to me.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I drank half the bottle before coming up for air. I tried to keep the nerves in check. I glanced around the room. “How did I . . .”

“Get here? You don’t remember?”

I shook my head and drank the rest of the bottle. On top of the nausea, I felt shaky and weak.

Luka studied me intently. “You got sick in the car. I decided to bring you back here so I could keep an eye on you.”

My ears burned with embarrassment. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

“It happens,” he said casually. “How are you feeling?”

I pressed my lips together. I felt like garbage. Things were still moving too fast and I was sluggish. Yet I had to answer, because he stood beside the bed, waiting on me. “Not great,” I mustered. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think . . . I had that much to drink.”

He took the empty bottle from my hands. “You’ll feel better if you have something to eat. Can you stand up?”

Something was . . . off. It took me a second to recognize he’d just asked me a question, rather than give me a command. And that brought the whole of the previous night flooding back to me in a hurry.

I wasn’t a virgin anymore. I’d slept with Luka Markovic. This was literally the morning after, and he was offering me breakfast. No, wait. He’d coaxed and persuaded me last night, maybe even manipulated. Things had spiraled out of control and gone too far, and then he’d forced himself on me.

I swallowed hard. I needed to get out of here before I let it happen again.

My legs were shaky but worked well enough as I tugged my socks up, climbed out of the bed, and smoothed my hands over my rumpled costume. I had to look like a hot mess. There was a doorway off to the side and I could see the darkened bathroom beyond.