Reckless Souls (Saints Academy, #1)(94)

The Elites.

Nope. No way. Not answering it.

I can’t even consider facing them right now. I’ll likely crumble before them like a fool, desperate

to take the euphoria to another level.

A moment later, the rap of someone’s knuckles gets even louder on the wood, rattling the door a

bit, and I scoff, shaking my head as I busy myself with my Academy shirt. Slipping my arms into the

sleeves, I begin to button it up from the bottom in time with the incessant pounding that is now joined

by their deep, raspy voices.

“Rhea. Open the fucking door, we know you’re in there.” Xander’s voice makes me pause, but I

push past the instant pull I feel toward him and shake my head. No they fucking don’t know. They’re

just guessing. As if sensing my thoughts, a low chuckle seeps from his lips as he talks quieter, but still

loud enough for me to hear. “I can smell your scent, little red riding hood. Or did you forget what you

did to me.”

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I still don’t utter a word in response as I continue buttoning up my shirt, turning my back to the

door, like that will make a difference. Just as I’m nearing the last few buttons, the sound of a throat

clearing makes me freeze.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Apparently it’s my favorite word of the day but it’s the only way I can seem to express thoughts

about my current situation.

There’s no way in hell that came from the other side of the door. I was too caught up in ignoring

them to consider the other point of entry.

“If it isn’t my favorite sweet treat. Fancy seeing you here, Rhea.”

Adonis.

My hands clench at my sides, shirt forgotten as I turn to glare at him. “What the fuck, Adonis? Get

the fuck out,” I bark, pointing at the door right behind him, but he just smirks at my feeble attempt.

Leaning against the open door frame, he quirks an eyebrow at me as he looks me over from head

to toe, paying far too much attention to my breasts. I know there will be at least a hint of my bra

revealed right now, but I refuse to shrink and hide under his gaze. I’m stronger, thicker skinned than

that. He knows it too.

“Nah, I fingered you, honey, but I’m down for fucking too if you’d like?” His crude words turn my

veins molten, not cutting me like glass, like they would if they came from someone else outside of the

Elites. But what the fuck was with that nickname? As if sensing my internal question, he licks his lips,

a reminder of what he did yesterday, and it makes sense immediately.

Rolling my eyes, I fold my arms over my chest, realizing my mistake far too late, but unable to

rectify it now, instead I stare him down. “You’re a dick.”

That’s all I’ve got? Get a grip, Rhea.

“You want to see my dick? Is that what I heard?” he retorts, leaning up off the doorframe to thrust

his crotch in my direction a few times, before he reaches for the waistline of his shorts. Adonis has

officially lost his mind.

I don’t get a second to respond when a hand appears from behind him and shoves his head

forward, knocking him off balance, and he stumbles a step or two. Like the damn fucking fool I am, I

immediately stretch my arms out to catch him, but it’s not necessary. I know it’s not necessary.

Although it doesn’t stop him from moving straight into my embrace.

“Look what you did,” I grumble, shoving him back hard as Xander, Khaos, and Zen slip into the

room too.

My room.

My personal space.

My sanctuary.

Fuckers.

Xander’s heated gaze is fixed on me. Khaos is trying to smother a dark laugh at Adonis who

straightens himself and reluctantly takes a step back from me. While Zen casts his eyes around my

room. A slight frown marring his forehead as he does, before settling his eyes on me.

“Can you all fuck off now?” I hiss, brushing my hair back off my face, using the hair tie on my

wrist to pull it up into a high ponytail. My annoyed glare doesn’t seem to concern any of them as

Adonis flops down on my bed, getting comfortable as Khaos perches at the bottom, leg crossed over

the other as he watches me. There is intensity and insinuation with every move they make.

It’s like there’s a challenge in their actions, their eyes, which only pisses me off more. Annoyance,

frustration, and a hint of desperation oozes through me, sending more warmth through my veins and I

want to scream.

“We need to talk,” Zen says calmly, ruffling his messy blond hair as he remains in place, while

Xander inches toward me, but still keeping enough distance away, like he knows what will and won’t

cause me to explode right now.

Test the waters with me, buddy, I dare you. Now isn’t the time.

As much as I think it, my tongue won’t move to let the words pass, like there’s something stopping

me, and I want to scream at that too.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I manage to say, wanting to hurry this along so they’ll fuck off and