Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

W alt and I snagged our lunch from the dining hall nearest the English Department—nothing fancy, chips and a turkey and cheese sandwich. He bagged them to-go, escorting us to a bench between the library and dining hall.

It was quiet, no students passed by here on our lichen covered bench. The sky was cast slate, and something about the air smelled of an early snow. It was chilly enough.

I tucked my coat tighter around myself and settled into the worn wood while my brother tore open his sandwich and munched away.

"Did you see Sam at all," I asked. She had yet to reply to my texts since this morning's class and I was growing progressively more anxious.

"Nope." Walt popped the ‘ p', short and sweet.

"Do you think?—"

"Nope."

"Great." I took my aggression out on lunch, tearing into the bread like some deranged animal .

We sat in silence for several moments until he finally kicked back, face forward and stoney.

"What do you want to know?"

"Are you sure you're ready to talk about it? I don't want to inconvenience you or anything." I crumpled my trash in irritation to toss into my bag. "You don't have to be such a jerk, Walt. I get it, it's hard. You're going through a lot, but so am I. I want to help you, so the least you can do is be nice and stop shutting me out."

He scrubbed his face with his hands, knees bouncing repeatedly. "You're right. I'm sorry. I keep thinking I've got it worse, but do I really? They want to kill you, Vivian. It doesn't even feel real, man."

I scooted closer to him to offer a reassuring hand on his leg. "Yeah, I know."

His bloodshot, ice blue eyes found me. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too." I exhaled, trying to force the weight in my chest but it remained lodged in place. "Did Ambrose tell you?"

"He called me first thing this morning and told me. I swear to god I never felt so physically ill in my life. I'm going to make Beaufort my dove simply for the fact that he thought he could get away with using you. "

"It is shitty, isn't it? I thought you guys were close."

"We were." It was a flat, monotone reply.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I tried talking to Dad about it, but he was strictly, ‘This is your duty, son. You must carry on the Blackfield tradition.'" He intoned a perfect impression of our New Yorker of a father. "He wouldn't even hear me out, he refused to think I could be so ‘weak.' "

"He said that?" My own knee began to bounce, an unconscious release of energy.

"Yup. "

"Have you talked to Ambrose about it?"

Walt's eyes cut back to me, frosty as they were. "The fuck would I do that for? He's practically the ring leader."

"He is not," I protested. "He hates it, he wants it disbanded." I lowered my voice as a group of students passed. "He might be able to help you."

"I don't think your little fuck buddy can help anyone but himself, Vivian. And it's kind of sick that he's got you thinking he's some sort of innocent in all of this. He was in that fucking Chamber at the start of school—in that goddamn robe, rounding up all those initiates. His hands aren't clean."

"He's stuck, just like you," I muttered. The blow he intended struck true. I couldn't for a moment believe that Ambrose was anything less than innocent. I heard him myself, had seen the stress and fear in his eyes when he realized Brian had come for me.

I watched how he reacted near his father.

Ambrose was not the villain.

"He's got you so wrapped around his finger?—"

"No, he doesn't. I need you to understand that. Ambrose does not want anything to do with them and if anyone can help you get out of this bullshit, it's him. Why don't you give him the benefit of the doubt? Talk to him, Walter. He's a good man. I wouldn't be doing the dumb shit I've been doing with him if he wasn't absolutely worth it."

"You are doing some dumb shit, aren't you?" he grumbled, leaning back in his seat and crossing a leg over his knee.

"Yeah, I am." The corners of my lips twitched. I had been doing some stunningly filthy things.

"If Mom and Dad found out…it would be nuclear. So much worse than when they found out about your grades at NYU."

"I know. But that's only if I make it out of here alive. Otherwise, I'm sure they'll just be relieved." The wind tousled my hair, cold and sharp, and the clouds picked up speed in their trek toward the rolling Green Mountains.

"How can you say that, Viv?"

"We both know it's true. They have their golden boy, their heir who has never let them down. They don't need me."

"They might not, but I do. I need you, you fucking brat."

"You're being uncharacteristically sweet." I narrowed my gaze.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. Mom and Dad might be the world's worst parents, that I will grant. But that doesn't mean you have to go on and get yourself intentionally killed. I need you." Walt gave a rough shove of my shoulder, reminding me of the many occasions he saved me from some manner of trouble with a gentle push and reminder of his care.

"You know, I wish everyone could have a Walt in their life." I stood, tucking my hands in my pockets. "You're very endearing when you want to be."

It was quiet at the library that evening. Sam stayed on the first floor, catching up on her homework while I haunted the second, a wraith shelving the backlog of recently returned books. A banshee wailing, sinking onto the worn wood floor to weep when the waves of realization dawned.

That was where Ambrose found me after dinner, curled in on myself down some unknown aisle, drying my tears with the sleeve of my sweater.

"Are you alright?" He rushed over to kneel and inspect, his figure blurred by my tears and the low light. "Hey, are you hurt? Did someone hurt you? "

"I'm fine, really. Just a little overwhelmed." I sniffled. Maybe ‘a little' was an understatement.

His features softened and I allowed him to bring me to my feet. "Of course. You have every right to cry and feel overwhelmed. Would you like to leave early? I can make you something to eat, get you a glass of wine, anything at all and it's yours."

I brought his palm to my lips, giving it a brief kiss. "No, I don't want to leave Mrs. Cocoran in a bad way. It isn't long till closing anyway, I can finish."

"Such a brave girl," Ambrose murmured, tipping my chin to take my mouth. I needed it after such a long, stressful day. Constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering if that would be the moment I was taken. So I sank into him gratefully, letting his greedy hands explore my body almost as if he too were starved for the comfort of it.

His tongue swirled, licking and tasting and sending me into dizzy oblivion until my back met the corner where the wall and shelving came together, just as he'd done the other night.

Only this time, in between pants and gropes, I lifted my leg onto the shelf, allowing him access to my pussy which he took with an appreciative groan.

"In the library," he reminded me once more. My pantyhose tore and I gasped, barely fighting back as he hooked a finger into my underwear and teased my clit.

"If you're going to keep reminding me, you better actually do it," I taunted, searching for his belt which I hoped to make quick work of.

Ambrose chuckled, a deep and smokey sound. His teeth grazed my earlobe in a soft nibble. "Turn around."

A swift wave of excitement sent a convulsion up my spine and I allowed him to spin me with little thought whatsoever. I didn't care if someone found us like this, bent over with my pussy dripping and exposed for him.

Let them. Let them watch him fuck me. It was biblical when he did so and I couldn't possibly be anything other than wanton and prone to him.

Ambrose's long fingers trailed from the inside of my thigh, up and over my ass, taking the thin scrap of underwear I wore with him.

"Have I told you how I adore these little things? Pushed up over your stunning ass like that, fuck," he groaned. A thumb dipped between my lips and I bit back a moan, arching myself just so to beg him for more.

More, more, more, more.

"Please," I whined.

"Anything for you, my love." Ambrose sank into me, a pulsing and intruding fullness. My teeth cut into my lip to keep from shouting, and I couldn't help but to push back against him, encouraging him not to pause too long. His broad head caressed against my most sensitive spot and the coiling orgasm tightened just enough to have me ravenous.

With one hand wound around my hair and the other gripping my hip, he plunged into me over and over again, stealing every thought, every stressor until the only thing I could think of was the iron of his thick cock inside me.

"God, Vivian, you're going to make me come."

I was clenching, clenching hard and fast and thirsty around him. My neck strained from his grip and the stillness of the library was disturbed only by the whisper of skin coming against skin, the whoosh of a gasping breath, and soft moans of pleasure. We weren't loud by any means, but we were all I heard.

The very thought of someone hearing us from up here was enough to push me over the edge and he knew it, snaking a hand under my belly and finding my clit. "Come for me," he demanded through gritted teeth.

I snapped, rocking as I gripped the shelf for stability, blinded by the explosion of ecstasy and the hot pump of Ambrose's come. His chest came to my back and he placed several kisses along my neck and shoulder, nuzzling into my hair as he collected himself. I couldn't move, my legs wobbled unsteadily while my heart attempted to slow.

"We didn't restrict these rendezvous to one time, did we," I asked with a laugh. Ambrose pulled himself from inside, rendering me empty and immediately longing for more.

"God no." He adjusted my skirt and tights with tender care. The tights were a lost cause, I'd probably run to the bathroom and throw them away with how torn they were—a wide hole stretched down to my knee. "As a matter of fact, I'd say if we're putting a limit on our excursions, let's just say a few thousand, hm?"

"Seems a bit modest, best to go higher than that. I'd hate for us to reach our end on library run-ins." I smoothed his shirt, tucking it in with as much care as he had used with me.

He brought a strand of hair behind my ear with a lopsided grin. "You're right, since we can't seem to agree upon a ceiling, let's forgo it altogether. Why cap ourselves when we can have as much library sex as any romantic could dream?"

"Much more sensible. It's a deal." I giggled, bringing my lips to his in a gentle kiss. "Thank you for the distraction. I wasn't in a very good state of mind."

"I wasn't trying to distract you, per se. I think it's fair to say you simply sucked me in with your beautiful eyes and fucking fantastic ass." Ambrose peered through the stacks in response to some sound. "I'll take care of this patron if you'd like to run to the bathroom and, well…dispose of your tights. "

A small flush warmed my cheeks as I peered down at my torn pantyhose once more. "Right. Yes?—"

"Wait." Ambrose snatched my wrist, bringing his lips to my ear. "You may throw away your tights—and your underwear even—but you will not clean up our sex. I want to watch it drip down your leg all night, do you understand me?"

I reared back with wide, hungry eyes. His request sent another quiver of need through my pussy and my thighs rubbed instinctively in response.

"Do you understand me, Vivian?"

"Yes, sir." I swallowed.

"You've been such a good girl for me. Go on now."

I went with quick, unrestrained steps, unable to think of anything else for the rest of the night.

Sam sat on my bed, her legs crossed and head bent over A Midsummer Night's Dream as I dressed post shower. I answered what I could of her questions about White Dove, happy to be forthright with her after all of the lying and scheming by everyone else. Just talking to another person about it helped me to keep a grip on myself, even if that grip was shaky.

"This one is an absolute fever dream," Sam muttered, her brows wrinkled together and the cap of her highlighter chewed to hell between her teeth. "I can't believe I let you talk me into getting a copy without the modern translation. I'm so lost." She gave me a pained look with her hair askew and her make up smeared.

I giggled, tucking the last few things into my bag as I did. " Act it out! Have fun with it! It's a comedy, it's supposed to be weird and vivacious."

"It's cruel and unusual punishment, that's what it is. I thought you were my friend, but now I know you'd rather Regina George me." We made our way into the chilled night which was broken with a clap of laughter.

"Stop it!" I hooked my arm through hers. "I don't even know what a Regina George is but I am pretty sure I'm not doing that."

"God, I knew you were out of touch, but I didn't think you were that out of touch."

"Hey!" I bumped her with my hip. "You're being mean now."

"You're right, that was uncalled for. You're not out of touch, you're just a nerd. And that's okay. It's what makes you so appealing and mysterious," Sam teased. "Like you're in The Secret History or something."

"I love that book," I added as we passed the library, a patch of darkness from a blown lamp loomed ahead of us.

"Me, too. Henry Winter, where can I find you?" Sam swooned, her eyes cast upward toward the twinkles of stars.

"He is literally psychotic," I reminded her as we entered the bubble of black. "He orchestrates several murders, of his friends even. Sure, he's enigmatic and hot, but he's crazy." My heart flew to my throat with paranoid, unsteady beats while I scanned the darkness. Maybe I was crazy, but the darkness had eyes—eyes which singed my exposed skin.

"Yeah, but it's part of his appeal, you know?" Sam's voice broke, betraying her nerves. Another set of footsteps sounded behind us, the first we'd heard since leaving Roosvelt House and I shot a quick glance in their direction.

I wished I hadn't.

"Sam," I gasped, causing her to look for herself. She snapped forward, steps a bit quicker than before .

"Call Ambrose," she murmured, wide eyes straight ahead. Our stalker quickened his own pace to match.

"We're not far." I tightened my grip on her arm. "Penrow House is just around the corner."

But it was no use, she had her phone in her hand, Ambrose's name bright on the screen.

The corner leading to Penrow House was but fifteen paces ahead, we could do it, I felt confident enough that our stalker wouldn't try anything with Ambrose watching.

Sam pressed the phone to her ear. Lamps around the bend were bright, a welcoming beacon for us should the man behind make any moves.

I cast one more look over our shoulders, but he was gone.

"He left," I muttered in confusion, a warm light illuminating us and rendering the rest of the walk in thick black.

"Did he really?" Sam peeked once, relaying the information to Ambrose though I could see him in the distance, orange cherry of his cigarette burned bright against the black. He shoved his hand in his pocket, making long strides in our direction, his own coat billowing behind him with the velocity of his gait. "That doesn't speak to his innocence much, does it?"

"I don't think we want to know, honestly."

"Did you get a good look at him?" Ambrose asked as he approached. He snatched my arm from Sam and cool, tobacco stained lips met my forehead.

"His face was shrouded, the only thing that gave him away was the point of his hood," I mocked, tucking close into the warmth of his side.

"Dammit. It doesn't bode well for us, does it?" Ambrose sighed. "I think it's best for you to come with us tonight, Sam, if that's alright. I don't trust that he isn't lurking to pick one of you off. "

Sam rocked on the heels of her feet, a shade paler than before. "Thank you, Dr. Wilder. I—I appreciate that."