Reckless Souls (Saints Academy, #1)(35)

few shots off the table, turning on my heels and heading into the woods away from him. When I’m

settled in between the trees, the noise not as loud, I glance back over my shoulder to see where he is,

and I just about manage to make out his face over by the campfire with his friends.

A sigh of relief sweeps through me as I stop beside a tree stump. The little twinkling lights

scattering the trees makes the area feel magical, offering just enough light among the darkness. Being

out here alone probably isn’t a good idea, but I just need a fucking second to breathe.

Away from leering or glaring eyes, all of the noise, and the constant tension that seeps through me.

Leaning against the tall tree to my left, I let the cool, rough wood texture graze my skin as I press

myself into the bark. Without looking down to see what flavor I got, I peel open the first shot, lifting it

to my mouth and quickly gulp it down. The zingy taste of green apple coats my lips, and I take a deep

breath, slowly exhaling as I try to build up the courage to rejoin the party.

The sudden feeling of someone watching me has me standing a little taller, the hairs on the back of

my neck rising as my eyes try to focus on my surroundings. My body tightens, my defensive nature

ready to take over.

“I don’t think you should be alone in the woods.”

The mocking tone comes from behind me, and when I turn around, I’m surprised to find Mr.

Asshole standing with his hands in his pockets, dark hair covering his eyes that still sparkle green in

the limited light.

Fake blood is smeared on his face and dripping down his ripped white shirt, and I scoff.

“Why? I’m not scared,” I reply, my confidence and years of living alone like this coming across

as arrogant, but I won’t apologize for it, especially not to this guy or any other guy for that matter.

“You should be. There are things out here that go bump in the night,” he simply states without

elaborating any farther. He slowly walks toward me, each step measured, calculating, as he observes

my reaction to him. His eyes remain fixed on mine, not making me feel uncomfortable or like an

object as Hector did, and that somehow manages to calm the defensive side of me.

“Is there anything I can help you with? I came here for some fucking quiet. I don’t need you

patronizing me,” I grumble, hand on my hip as I stare at him expectantly, and the smallest of grins

touches the corner of his lips.

“I was just wondering what permission I needed to confirm how hot you are with your curves on

display,” he replies, the words far too similar to what Hector just said, and when my brows knit

together in confusion, I realize he must have heard him. Asshole.

“Do you always eavesdrop?”

He doesn’t respond until he’s almost toe to toe with me, circling around so my back is touching

the tree again. The bark bites roughly against my skin, adding to the sensory overload I’m already

beginning to experience. My pulse quickens at his closeness, my palms sweating as I grip the two

remaining shots in my hand.

Catching the movement, he slowly inches his hand forward, prying one from my grip and opening

it. He offers it back to me wordlessly, before taking the other and doing the same, only keeping that

one for himself.

When he holds it out for me to clink mine against it, I only assume he’s a man of very few words,

but decide to roll with it. Almost fucking enjoying it compared to the slimy dickheads who haven’t

shut up when approaching me.

Touching the rim of my shot glass to his, I quickly swallow it down, a hum of approval slipping

from my lips as the lemon taste dances on my tongue. Almost as nice as the apple, but not quite.

I don’t realize I’ve shut my eyes until I pry them back open to find him glaring down at me, a

drastic shift in his cool demeanor from moments before. “You shouldn’t be allowed to make sounds

like that,” he grunts, tossing his empty shot glass on the ground as he takes the final step to evaporate

the remaining distance between us.

Instead of raising my hands to hold him back, they fall to my side, almost encouraging him closer

by my submissiveness, and my empty shot glass falls to the soil too.

He’s all I can feel, all I can see, and it’s intoxicating.

“Did your new friend tell you the secret about Vampires and Shifters?” he asks, brushing my curls

back over my right shoulder, and without even making contact with my bare skin, I shiver as I shake

my head. “She didn’t share with you the little known way to predetermine if you will become a

Vampire or a Shifter? And here I was thinking you were getting close to my cousins to get under my

skin,” he retorts.

“Cousins?” I say in confusion, brows raised as I eye him, and he must see the surprise and truth in

my eyes because he nods, the darkness ebbing ever so slightly from his gaze. Again, it’s like I can see

another shift in his behavior based on my reaction.

As if that’s all he needed to confirm, he inches closer, his breath on my neck as he runs the tip of

his nose over the length of my throat. My body stands stiff, rigid, as I try to predict his next move, but