Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

S am sat at a long, rich wood table in one of the dining halls nearest Roosevelt House. The chatter was low around the room as everyone shoveled their lunch down their throats—something with grilled chicken and an arugula salad from the looks of it. One would expect nothing less from Oakwood kitchens. I came beside Sam as she ate, my hands trembling and stomach churning.

"Whoa, hi," she said through a mouthful of green leaf. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, I'm not." I scanned the hall with a thorough sweep, though what I was looking for I wasn't sure. "Ambrose wouldn't give me anything, he shut me down about the stupid society. And then I went to Walt, my brother, to see what he wanted last night because he's a fucking jock but, Sam—Sam, it wasn't my brother who came looking for me."

Her brows crinkled. "Really? Then who could it have been?"

"I don't know, but listen, I asked Walt about whatever White Dove is because he's been weird and estranged since the start of the school year and—" I leaned in close, my voice nearly inaudible over the noise of lunch. "Walt fucking threw his hand over my mouth. Said it was a good thing I wasn't home last night and told me I was treading in dangerous waters."

Sam's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"That's not all. A few nights that I've come home late from the library, I've seen this person in a fucking hooded cloak, Sam. And Dr. Wilder is always telling me not to stay out late. That there's some sort of threat, but the university won't warn the students."

"You don't think it's…the secret society, do you?" She mirrored my own tone, her features stark with stress.

"I don't know what to think. It feels crazy to say out loud, but it's weird, right? I just—I need your help, please , since these godforsaken men won't give me any information."

"I don't know, Vivian. If they're encouraging you to stay out of it, maybe you should. Maybe it's better to mind our business." She turned back to her lunch, a shade lighter than before. "I don't like it. Everything about it is off."

"You know how these little societies are! They do terrible things in the name of power and money, don't they? And if there's a threat of something, I don't know, anything because of them, wouldn't you want to put a stop to it?"

"If there is some sort of secret society here, it's probably been around for a while, Viv. And a couple of sophomore girls aren't going to dismantle it. We aren't fucking Scooby-Doo." Sam took a bite of her chicken without meeting my gaze.

"So you're content, then? With just letting this shit happen? If you saw Walt you would want to do something. He looks like shit, he's paranoid," I grumbled, coming to my feet with resolve. "I'm going to find out what I can with or without anyone's help."

She still refused to look in my direction, eating her lunch as if I hadn't spoken to her at all. My nails bit into the skin of my palms and I left without another word, heading for my next class despite the swirling nausea of what I seemed to have stumbled upon.

And the fact that no one would help me get answers.

Whatever White Dove was, whatever threat loomed in the dark, whatever Walt was struggling with…none of it was good. I might not have been Scooby-Doo or Sherlock Holmes, but the least I could do was help my brother.

That evening, after classes and a stop by Roosevelt House to shower and change into something warmer, I entered the library with a mission. If there was nothing about the society in the database, it didn't mean that there wasn't an article or photograph hidden within the shelves somewhere. Perhaps I could find answers in the section on OU's history or the surrounding area.

It genuinely felt to me that Walt was in trouble. Even if that meant damning myself in the end, I would push the bounds for him. Because, as much as I hated him, I loved him. And if it were any other way, Walt would do the same for me.

When I entered the library, no one stood behind the desk to greet students or check them out and I immediately made for the small office where Mrs. Cocoran took her breaks and stored her things. It was cramped, no more than a closet with a desk and coat rack, but it provided a moment of solitude when freshmen were too rowdy or the day seemed a bit too long.

I hung my coat, set my bag on a shelf, and poked around in her drawers to see if she had anything hidden for herself. There was, of course, nothing. Irritated, I meandered out into the quiet Tuesday evening of the library. There were a handful of students cramming for midterms and a group of lacrosse players Walt hung out with who I recognized from my first night—Brad, Brian, and Brandon or something.

"Hey," I greeted them, each regarding me with a warm welcome, but particularly the one with the bright blonde hair and deep brown eyes. He wore a crimson Oakwood sweatshirt and leaned back in his chair upon my approach.

"Vivian, right? Walt's sister?" he asked while the others flipped through their books. One chewed on the top of his pen.

"Yes. Forgive me, I've forgotten your name." I extended my hand for a reintroduction. He was handsome, chiseled old money features and thick arms from his sport.

"Brian." He smiled, placing a kiss on my knuckles.

Right. Brian. How could I forget such a basic name?

"It's nice to meet you—again—Brian." I gave him my most charming grin in hopes that I might placate some cooperation from him.

"And you as well, Vivian. We've heard a lot about you. Heard you visited Walt today, gave him a good talking to, huh?" Brian chuckled.

"Well, you know Walt. He isn't usually so…reclusive?" I gripped the top of a vacant chair with teeth on edge.

"No, indeed he's not." He sat forward, looking me up and down and I wondered for a moment if my skirts had the same effect on everyone as they did on Ambrose—tights or no tights.

Brian licked his lower lip.

"So you noticed?" I continued, shoving the acidic feeling growing in my stomach to the side. Ambrose's appreciation didn't come off so gross. "That Walt seems…off?"

"We all have, haven't we?" Brian looked to his counterparts on either side and yet none of them seemed to make eye contact with me as they confirmed Walt's concerning disposition. The hair on the back of my neck stood .

"Do you have any idea of what exactly is going on?" I hedged.

"Honestly, no. Could be anything, you know? Say, do you have a date to the Gala on Halloween? I'd love to take you, get to know you a bit better. Maybe we can figure out how to help your brother out. What do you say?"

I was taken aback by his sudden change of subject and intuition in the back of my mind screamed for me to run, but I stood my ground, eyeing this Brian with incredulous suspicion.

"Vivian." Ambrose came from behind, voice tight. My shoulders visibly relaxed upon his approach without my consent. "I need you upstairs now. There's a tote overdue for shelving."

Each of the young men eyed the tall, lithe gentleman as he came by my side with lips pressed thin and brows plunged deep.

"Dr. Wilder," Brian greeted, arrogant and full of himself with his hands behind his head. "I'm surprised to see you here tonight."

"Get used to it, Beaufort." Ambrose's palm pressed gently into the small of my back and I startled at his touch. "Vivian, upstairs, please."

The tone of his voice had the memory of this morning curling into the pit of my stomach. It awoke the ache, which crawled up and behind my ribs as I examined his stunning cheek bones and dimpled chin.

"Let me know about the Gala, Viv. Here's my number." Shredding paper brought my attention back to Brian, who held a small note between his fingers for me to take. I slipped it into the small pocket of my skirt, almost dumbly.

"Thanks, I'll think about it." I refused to acknowledge Ambrose, simply moving toward the stairs to begin my shelving.

"You will leave her alone," Ambrose intoned from behind. The weight he wielded was deadly enough to slow my stroll.

"You don't own her, Professor. She's fair game."

My stomach threatened to spill the cup of ramen I managed to eat after class this afternoon as I climbed the stairs to the second floor. I grabbed a handful of books from the shabby tote, inspected their spines for a moment and marched to the row they belonged.

I wasn't even halfway done with my handful when Ambrose came around the corner, his hair mussed and eyes sullen.

"Stay away from Brian Beaufort," he bit out, looming over me.

"I'm sorry, Professor , but I don't think you have the authority to tell me who I can and cannot speak to." He continued to advance me, sending me backward into the wall where he caged my body with his—a hand on the frame of a lattice window and another on the bookshelf beside us.

The position sent a thrill through my blood despite the lingering hurt and frustration.

"I can't? Really?" His lips brushed over the shell of my ear and I shivered from the contact, at the way he exhaled. "As long as you are full of me, you'll do as I say. And you should know I intend to keep you full of me."

"No," I protested, exacerbating the rush of lust that swelled inside. "I'm going to the Gala with Brian Beaufort and there's nothing you can do about it."

His lip curled and he gripped my jaw tightly, tilting my face towards his.

"You will not. Do you have a death wish?"

"Why would you think that Brian would hurt me?" My words were garbled from his harsh hold.

"Because I know him better than you do, and besides. You're mine. "

My breath came out in a woosh and the stupid longing in my chest roared to life once more, thrilled and dancing in jubilation.

"I am not," I murmured with every attempt to tear my face free. Ambrose shoved his hips into mine, stilling me against the wall and his body. Not an inch of space existed between either.

"You are." His nose grazed my jaw, up to my temple in a slow, torturous movement. "You are because I say you are. Don't play like you don't want me all of the sudden, Vivian. Not when you came all over my face and cock this very morning."

My heart pounded in my ears and between my thighs as Ambrose slipped the tip of a finger in my mouth.

"Suck," he ordered. My tongue swirled over the pad of his finger, taking in the delicious taste of his skin until I sucked as I would if it was his cock. His white teeth pierced his lip and his hips bucked as he groaned. "See? It's so easy to be a good girl, isn't it?"

My teeth teased his finger, threatening a bite which sent his eyes wide.

"I want to take you right here," he purred, pulling his finger from my mouth. "I want to stifle your cries while I fill you, while we don't know if anyone's coming around the corner at any given moment."

I flashed hot and my knees wobbled. "It's on the list," I reminded him, my own voice unrecognizable—thick and full of lust.

"It is, isn't it?" His large hand slid down the curve of my waist, sending my skin into a fury of goosebumps. "But you're angry with me, remember?"

"I don't know how much longer I can be angry with you when you're touching me like this," I admitted, hooking a leg around his own.

"Don't let me off the hook so easily, my darling. I deserve your anger." Ambrose pulled away, adjusting his thick arousal in his trousers.

"I never said you didn't." I tucked the remaining books tight against my chest to keep from reaching out for him and making another reckless decision. Even though I wanted him, I knew we had already come so close to being found out once today.

"I'll have something for you by the end of the evening, something I think will make up for my misstep earlier this morning." Footfalls approached, heavy and slow and as we peered through the stacks, we spotted one of Brian's friends from downstairs perusing haphazardly.

Ambrose growled low under his breath, never taking his eyes from the guy—Brandon? Brad? I couldn't remember.

"You have my attention." I kept my voice hushed, eyeing Ambrose's profile, the sharp slant of his nose, the square of his jaw. He was stunning, so beautifully crafted it seemed sinful indeed that he should exist. My heart fluttered as my eyes roamed his features: the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, the knot of his Adam's apple, the thick bundle of muscle that defined his bicep.

"I'll have it by the end of the evening and if you'll come home with me tonight, I'll make sure you know everything." His gaze came back to mine, piercing gray as deep as a storm. "Are you ogling at me, Vivan?" He smirked.

"No," I lied, teeth finding my lip.

"What a shame. I would have enjoyed being admired by you. Will you come home with me tonight?" He wrapped his longer fingers around my neck and his thumb swiped my cheek softly. I couldn't help but lean into the touch.

"Fine." I shoved the books into his chest, fighting the smile that threatened to breakthrough at the idea of another night with him. "But we're stopping by Roosevelt House first so I don't have to wear the same thing tomorrow."

"No, I'm sorry, I can't risk being seen with you outside the dorm again." Ambrose chuckled darkly. "You'll have to wear that damned skirt tomorrow, and absolutely nothing tonight."

I gawked, cheeks and core warming. "Ambrose! "

"You're so fucking gorgeous when you blush, did you know that?" His knuckles brushed the warmth of my reaction. "And I swear it's tenfold when you're coming beneath me."

The footsteps drew nearer and as I ducked to peer through the shelf, I was met with an inhuman stare—blank and dead eyes set in the face of a man—which sent a sick convulsion down my spine. This man was intent upon something and my gut blared a siren of warning.

"He's coming," I breathed, barely able to speak as the young man continued his approach, holding my gaze.

Ambrose cursed, meeting—Brandon? Brad?—before he could come around the corner. "Can I help you?"

"I was just looking for a text on Shelley," the young man said, gruffer than before, his eyes never leaving me.

Ambrose cut his own in my direction before stepping in front to block Brad's view.

"All of Shelley's works are downstairs."

"Oh. I didn't know. Thanks."

"You've been here for four years, you damn well know," Ambrose grit out. "Leave the girl alone."

"I don't think it's going to end well for either of you, Professor." The guy laughed.

"I find that all very funny as I was just going to say the same of you and your little clique."

Brian's friend only scoffed and retreated almost reluctantly.

"What's going on, Ambrose?" I hissed, fingers curling over his shoulder and my chest tight with anxiety. I felt in over my head, drowning in something so much bigger than myself.

Maybe Sam had been right after all.

"I promise I'll tell you everything I can later. Right now, I need you to stay close to me for the rest of the evening, alright?" His eyes were probing, begging .

"Okay," I relented with little fight. I hated to admit to myself that right now, I trusted him more than anyone else.