Alpha Bully (Wolf Ridge High 1)

She doesn’t expect the sharp smack of my hand on her ass. Her gasp is part yelp. I squeeze and rub away the sting, and lean close to put my lips beside her ear. “Don’t get smart with me, Pink.”

The fresh scent of her arousal greets me, making it pure torture to let her go.

I release her wrists but slap her ass one more time. “Get inside.” My palm tingles with the impact. I’m sure her ass will for more than a few minutes.

Good. I want her to feel me.

Feel the pain I choose to give her.

And the pleasure.

I’m going to give it to her every way I desire.

And she’s going to love taking it.

Chapter 7

Bailey

I go through my first few classes the next day in a stupor. I should be exhausted but I’m not. I’m keyed up. Antsy. A little sick. Nervous. Confused. And underneath it all simmers excitement I’m afraid to even acknowledge or let out.

Cole Muchmore kissed me.

I mean really and thoroughly kissed me.

And it felt like he doused me in lighter fluid and sparked a match, because my whole body is still on fire. My skin is branded everywhere he touched.

I want more of it—so much more.

And even though he promised more—in the most threatening kind of way—I have no idea what to expect from him today, and that terrifies me.

And even more pressing, I have to figure out what I’m going to do about the Brumgard situation. Last night turned into such a cluster, I couldn’t think straight.

I still don’t want to run to the principal or the police. I’m already a leper at this school. I don’t need this kind of stigma, too.

The idea that appeals to me most is just avoiding the whole thing. Not returning to class. Blackmailing him for an A and my recommendations.

No, that’s a lie. Ditching class and getting out of work doesn’t excite me.

What I’d prefer is a teacher with integrity, who would’ve actually worked with me on starting a newspaper. But that’s an impossibility. There will be no Wolf Ridge High newspaper. No chance to get a byline and build my clips for my college paper. No opportunity to make a difference and leave my mark on this school.

I fantasize about walking into class with my head held high. Brumgard should be the one who wants to hide, not me. But when the time comes for class, I feel like puking. I stand at my locker, even though I don’t need any books. I’m hiding there.

Okay, if I’m completely honest with myself, I’d admit I’m waiting for Cole to appear. To tell me what to do. Or be my shield. Or just offer some kind of support.

But that’s stupid.

He may have kissed me last night, but it doesn’t mean he plans to continue anything. Yesterday could’ve been a one-off. Twenty-four hours of crazytown where the shit hit the fan for each of us and we stood by each other.

The halls start clearing out, kids heading into their classes before the late bell rings. I suck in my breath and close my locker.

Cole’s coming down the hall surrounded by his pack of friends. I expect to see his face bruised and swollen, but it’s not. In fact, I can hardly tell anything happened last night. I guess he wasn’t hurt as bad as I thought. He’s listening to a friend now and doesn’t look at me.

And that settles it.

No way in hell I am going in that classroom. I’m way too raw and exposed. I can’t pretend everything’s okay when it’s so not.

As the group of alpha-holes pass, I duck my head, looking at the ground. Only at the last minute, I can’t help myself. I look over at Cole again.

He looks too. At the same moment.

Nothing changes on his face; his cocky smirk is firmly in place. If I blinked I would miss it, but he winks at me.

And just like that, the world is right again.

No, not right. But so much better. I can breathe. I can think clearly.

I savor that wink—a shared secret between us—and I keep walking, straight out the door to the little patch of shady trees Rayne showed me.

Like Cole said, I don’t have to go to class if I don’t want to.

In fact, I could probably still work on this newspaper project as my own personal independent study. It can be part of my blackmail. Brumgard has to publish whatever I put together.

Feeling much better, I pull out a notebook and try to recall the list of potential articles I brainstormed on his whiteboard yesterday.

Cole was right. I do hold the power.

And I intend to use it.

Cole

Brumgard’s nose is swollen three times the normal size and both his eyes are black. I hear him tell a kid he had a door opened on his face as I’m walking in.