Deviant (Boys of Winter 3)

I take a deep breath, knowing that when I take that final step to close the distance, I’m going to smell that toxic stench that rolls off drunks as the alcohol comes out through his pores and sits clammy on his skin.

God, it’s so gross.

My hand curls into a fist and the sweet feel of my brass knuckles tightening over my skin gives me the strength to keep going. “Why don’t you stand up and let me see what I’m working with?”

“Oh, a lady of the night?” he slurs. “Trust me, I’ve got exactly what a girl like you needs.”

“A girl like me?” I question, watching as he shakily gets to his feet and has to grab hold of the table just to keep from falling. “What’s that supposed to mean, Santa?”

He laughs at the name, thinking it’s something cute, but he couldn’t be more wrong. “You’re a dirty little slut,” he says with a wink. “I haven’t got any cash for ya, but I’ll get you off real nice.”

Ugh. Gag.

“Oh, yeah?” I ask, stepping right up into him with a flirtatious smile. He beams from ear to ear and before he gets another word out, my fist slams right into his nose. Blood spurts out and I hit him again and again. His jaw, his eye socket, his brow.

He falls to the ground, unable to hold himself up, but I just keep going, letting out all the rage as the bartender just watches on, making sure no one dies in his bar.

Blood spurts all over me, but I don’t care. All that matters is getting that sweet, sweet release and burning out the fury and rage that lives inside me.

With every hit, I calm down a little bit more, until finally, the rage eases and I can breathe again.

I catch my breath and wipe the sheer layer of sweat off my brow as I get back to my feet. I glance down at my bloodied fists, making sure it’s all his and not mine, and after shaking out my hands a few times, I step over Santa’s unconscious body and casually make my way to the bar.

“Hit me with your strongest,” I tell him.

The bartender just nods and fills up a shot glass before sliding it across the bar. I take it and throw it back, cringing with the burn before asking for a refill.

The liquor only just touches my tongue when the door flies open and the boys come barreling in. They storm toward me in their pissed off, alphahole glory, and the second I turn and lay my eyes on them, the tears stream down my face.

“What the fuck was that?” Grayson roars, staring straight at me and ignoring the passed-out body just behind me, though I know they see it. They’re not stupid.

I stare up at the boys and as I swallow the shot, defeat filters through me. “I think Sara Benson raped me last night.”

CHAPTER 18

The Escalade speeds down the highway as King’s fingers brush back the hair off my face. I lay across the backseat, my head in his lap and my feet in Grayson’s. I keep my face turned in toward King’s stomach, keeping myself hidden from the guys’ lingering stares. Every time I meet their eyes, the tears start, and I have no choice but to berate myself for telling them what happened.

I wanted to keep it to myself. I should have kept it to myself because now every time they look at me, I see the fear in their eyes, wondering when I’ll break. Though seeing fear is better than pity. If they were to look at me with pity, I’ll have no choice but to bust their asses wide open.

One by one, they sat down beside me at the bar, and together, we took shot after shot as I explained exactly what happened last night at the party. I told them how I thought it was Cruz, how I wasn’t sure if I consented. But they assured me, anyone in the state I was in last night wouldn’t have the ability to consent. She took advantage of me. Which only led us all to take another shot.

We spent the day sitting at the bar, then slept it off in some shitty hotel while Grayson held me all night and let me cry into his shirt. But today is a new day, and I’m putting that shit behind me. Well, I’m putting it aside to deal with it on my own, where I won’t have to bring the boys down. This is my mess to clean up, and while I know the boys would do anything to stand by my side and help me through it, that’s not what I want.

Sara and I will be handling this privately, and I’m going to make sure that she understands just how badly she fucked up by putting her hands on me.