1. ~Skylar~

I didn't belong here.

And I sure as fuck didn't want to be here.

To say this was a fish-out-of-water situation didn't quite cover it.

It was definitely a far cry from Vista Ridge, the arts and design institute I'd spent the last two years studying at.

A long way from this place, from my former home.

Certain… complications had pulled me from there.

My extra-curricular activities had kind of caught up to me.

And it was best for everyone involved that I'd removed myself from the situation.

My parents were ecstatic.

My dad, because he got to have me back, and with him now having retired from military life, it actually meant we could spend time together. The timing had been perfect actually. Fortunately, that meant it hadn't raised any alarms and the suspicion that I'd suddenly quit my program and come back here like this had been overshadowed by that. One thing to be grateful for.

And my mom was over the moon, because I was now finally going to do what she'd wanted from the get-go and follow in her footsteps.

It was time to get into the whole real estate biz. She owned a luxury real estate firm, The Bennet Group. Although I wasn't going into the business aspect, she was happy that I was now going to major in Architecture. At least it gave me a creative aspect to work with, something I needed, while also satisfying her at the same time.

And toeing the line.

Doing what was expected.

Conforming.

I screwed up my face as that thought formed and then nagged at me something fierce.

Then I comforted myself with the fact that I was riding my motorcycle through the city streets—at least I had that with me.

I just hoped it would be enough to offset all the rest.

Because I had to do this.

I had to be this.

I couldn't help grimacing as I saw that the ride was coming to an end all too quickly. It hadn't been as liberating as normal either, because riding through the city streets with constant start-and-stop traffic was nowhere near the same as tearing down the backroads like I'd been used to while I'd been away from city life at the institute.

I caught sight of the golden gates—that's right, actual golden freaking gates—of the hoity-toity university just a few blocks away.

Luxington University was an elite private university in the City of Rossun.

Rich kids and trust fund brats ruled the hallowed halls, most of them on track to becoming their parents, heirs to conglomerates and tycoons.

I'd hated the idea of that.

Not so much becoming my parents, because they were great people. My dad absolutely, he was a war hero and a good man. My mom, for the most part—she had some issues and had made some sketchy business deals and moves over the years, though. It was really the idea of becoming a carbon copy of something that already existed. Not branching out on my own and doing my own thing.

Making my own mark and traveling my own path was what I'd been on track to doing through my education far away from here at Vista Ridge.

But that had changed after what had happened, what I'd started to become.

I'd needed to find stable ground again.

And to put a whole lot of distance between myself and a certain someone at the same time.

I swallowed down all of that and focused on what lay immediately ahead of me as I made the turn into the lot of Luxington University—or Luxe, as the students called it. I slowed my HarleyDavidson Street 750 to a crawl so I could begin searching for a parking spot.

The place was packed—one of the main reasons for me wanting to get here a little early.

I liked to get a lay of the land before I went into any situation, so I'd planned to show up at least a half hour before my first class started.

But so much for that.

Thanks to my mom's pep talk—something she always did before any of us embarked on a new endeavor—turning into a twenty-minute-long warning about some of the toxic elements prevalent at Luxe, I'd lost a lot of time. While she believed the benefits of attending such a prestigious college like this outweighed any of the negatives, she had still been nervous about the other aspects. My dad and I were cut from the same cloth and we didn't really do nervousness, and fear was more of an aphrodisiac to me than anything else, so she'd spent undue time trying to drill it home to me.

Besides, I was just here to keep my head down and study, while trying to fit into this new normal.

Nothing else concerned me.

And I couldn't let it either.

I had to stay in this lane now.

A shiny red Ferrari caught my eye through the sea of luxury cars filling the parking lot. It was parked across two spaces, but there was another either side of it, fortunately.

As I made a beeline for the spot closest on the right, I took in a guy leaning against it, his back to me, shaggy brown hair brushing the shoulders of a white designer hoodie with golden tigers and snakes embroidered all over it. Bold. I had to give him props for that.

A group of guys and girls surrounded him, chatting up a storm, some throwing their heads back in exaggerated laughter, others twirling their hair, one guy puffing his chest out. It seemed to be a whole flirt-fest taking place, and the guy against the Ferrari was lapping up the attention as he stroked the hood of his car in an unsettling erotic way.

I turned away and concentrated on pulling into the parking space and settling my bike.

I swung my leg over, pulling my helmet off as I dismounted.

As I secured it into one of my saddlebags, I walked to the other and took out my silver studded messenger bag.

I'd just slung it over my shoulder when my phone buzzed in the pocket of my leather jacket.

I unzipped my jacket and retrieved it from the inside pocket. Swiping it open, I was narrowing my eyes in the next moment as I took in the texts that had come in during my ride.

Unknown Number: The longer you ghost me, the harder I'm gonna go on that tight little cunt of yours, sugar.

Unknown Number: I swear to fuck, I'll make you hurt for me, bleed for me, fucking well cry for me.

Unknown Number: My bad, we both know you'd like that, my little pain slut. I'll have to think of a better punishment, one that doesn't get you off and make your cunt drip.

I screwed up my face.

Fucking Jett.

The bastard and his ridiculous far-reaching resources.

I'd already changed my number a couple of times and still he was facilitating contact.

The urge to respond back and remind him in no uncertain terms that our twisted not-a-relationship was well and truly over was right at the surface.

But I resisted, knowing well by now that there was no reasoning with a sociopath.

The word no was a challenge to him and it would just make things worse.

"Did you hear me?"

The harsh demand of a voice caught my attention and I pocketed my phone, then spun around to see the guy who'd been feeling up the Ferrari now half-twisted my way, his eyes on me.

Actually, all eyes on me.

"Well? You hard of hearing or something, on account of being up close to that Harley of yours one too many times?" he persisted.

"I can hear you just fine. I merely wasn't paying attention to whatever you were yelling my way. Although, you're one to talk when it comes to the roar of an engine with that car of yours. It is yours, right? You're not just polishing the hood with your palm for yearning's sake?"

Gasps and whispers erupted from the people crowded around him.

He pushed off the car with an abrupt jerk. As if on cue, his fans drew back and hurried away across the lot, heading for class I was guessing.

He rounded the hood with slow, commanding strides that I figured were meant to be menacing, especially when combined with the dark look in his amber eyes. As it was, it merely served to amuse me.

I didn't move an inch as he stopped just a foot from me, his hulking form, all muscle and broad shoulders and towering well over six-foot, getting in my space.

"I said you can't park here."

"The nature of it being an empty spot would say that I can."

His nostrils flared as his gaze roamed over me, focusing on my vibrant-blue and silver hair, my loose curls cascading down past my shoulders, to my studded blue leather jacket. They lingered on my silver metallic tank beneath, then trailed down to the silver butterfly chain belt that looped through my black bootcut pants.

After taking a quick glance at my motorcycle boots, his gaze snapped back to my face and he was frowning. "I know you."

"I don't think so."

He paused for a moment.

But then he was back to the parking spot thing and gesturing angrily behind me at my bike. "Move it to another spot. Nobody parks beside my car. It's a known fact at Luxe."

Who the shit was this douchebag?

"Well, for one, it's my first day. And second, the lot is packed. I'm lucky I found this spot, so I'm not moving it."

"That's not up for debate."

I waved him off with a flick of my hand. "We're done with this."

"The fuck we are."

"What are you gonna do? Pick up a five-hundred-pound Harley and physically move it? Come on. While you're jacked beyond belief, even if those aren't merely show muscles, which they could very likely be, the max even a gym rat could lift is about three hundred. You're dreaming, I'm afraid. So, how about you take a breath and calm down, then we can both get on with our days."

Urgh. This was clearly my first test of trying to stick to normal, because going the diplomatic route really wasn't my thing—or my favored way of handling confrontation. Especially not one as ridiculous as this.

"This is a lot more than show muscle, Bluebell."

Bluebell. How original.

Dumbass.

"Yeah? So, have at it then," I said, moving to step out of his path.

He snagged my arm, stopping me.

Don't react. Don't fucking react.

"You're asking for a demonstration if you don't shut that smart mouth of yours and fucking well submit."

I glared up at him. "Show me yours, I'll show you mine."

His eyes flared at the warning. The threat.

He scoffed. "You're a pint-sized thing. All bark. Do you really want to be on my shitlist?"

"And whose shitlist is that? Through all your aggressive demands, you never introduced yourself."

"Damien Thorn. Ring a bell?"

Shit.

He was one of them.

One of the toxic elements my mom had warned me to stay away from.

The Thorn family was on that list.

Damien kept to himself, out of the papers, social media. Unlike his younger brother who was all over them, the city's It-Boy basically. That was why I hadn't recognized him, only registering the name. Also, I wasn't one to follow that sort of gossip, and I only used my social media for my designs and stayed within that community when I was online too.

My parents had kept me from all of this, all the abundance of luxury and privilege, along with the seedy underbelly of it all. Aside from the mansion I'd grown up in, everything else had been… regular. Going to normal public school, getting an after-school job to pay my way, saving up for the institute. I had been gifted my Harley when I'd graduated high school, but that had been the extent of the extravagance extended to me.

It was because she hadn't wanted me to be around it all while I was a child and easily influenced. She'd always warned of the toxicity of it all. And my dad was very down-to-earth to begin with, not having grown up in a whole lot of wealth like she had.

"Let this go for now and I won't park beside you next time, all right?"

I hated the words coming out of my mouth, but I couldn't put myself on the radar. It was bad enough that I'd had a confrontation with a student before even going to my first class. Him coming at me with those demands, all that aggression and the threats, had sparked that other part of me to life, though.

And, fuck, I wasn't going to move my bike. It was bullshit.

He released my arm and I thought it was over.

Until he suddenly grasped the sides of my open leather jacket, then spun me around and pushed me up against the side of his Ferrari.

"That's good, but it's not gonna be enough now."

"What?" I choked, more than just a little winded.

But it was the struggle not to respond in kind that was crippling me more than anything else.

"You got me all riled up. Need a release." He stroked the sides of my jacket. "And you need to learn your place. After my last class finishes at 1.p.m, you'll meet me outside the guy's locker room. Then I'll tame you how I tame all misguided bitches who mouth off to me. Stuff their nasty little mouths with my cock and make them choke on me until they're begging for my non-existent mercy."

Well, then.

"That won't be happening."

"What the—"

"As much of a turn-on as sucking on a tiny limp dick isn't, I'll still be in class at that time anyway, so no getting together I'm afraid."

He snarled and got right in my face. "You're messing with the wrong person."

"No. You are."

In a blink, I dislodged his grip from my jacket, used his weight against him to haul him around, then slammed him down over the hood of his beloved car, my hand around his throat, my elbow driving into his back.

I heard a thud and I looked to see my phone had jarred from my outer pocket with all the rough movements. I couldn't worry about it now. Never take your focus off your opponent.

"The thing about guys like you with so much bulk and muscle to show off is that you're usually too fucking slow."

He struggled against me and I ground my elbow down painfully, making him grunt.

"Now, I know who you are, what you are, and I also know who your mom is. Second to mine, I believe, as it currently stands these days."

"Maria… Maria Bennett?" he rasped.

A shimmering blue Lexus caught my eye as it pulled into the spot on the other side of this shithead's Ferrari.

I gritted my teeth. Witnesses.

Just what I didn't fucking need.

"You're the prodigal daughter," Damien spoke, drawing my attention from the new arrivals.

"The name's Skylar, D," a voice came from the other side of the car. "How many times have I warned you to do your fucking homework?"

I looked out to see a guy with sandy-blond hair, closely cropped on the sides and stylishly windswept on top, with a brown aviator jacket slung over a white tee that pulled taut over some rippling toned muscle. He was firing up a cigarette as he shut the passenger door of the Lexus and stared with amusement at Damien pinned down over the hood of his Ferrari.

I'd seen his photo plastered all over the business mags, the heir to a luxury hotel chain, Royal Luxe Hotels.

Caleb Rowland.

"Shut the fuck up," Damien ground out at him.

Caleb merely grinned, then dragged on his smoke.

A door slammed and I looked to see another guy emerging from the driver's seat.

This one I recognized the most.

The It-Boy in the flesh.

Sebastian Thorn.

He didn't look like the guy from a few years back.

No, this version of him was more bad boy than conventional It-Boy, a darker version.

His hair was in a brown buzz cut, and there were tattoos all over his neck, delving beneath a white dress shirt that was open a few buttons, enabling me to track more black ink down the upper half of his torso too, disappearing to hell knew where. They were black roses with thorns all over. Interesting. And hanging down between was a silver chain with an edgy heart pendant surrounded by angel wings with a blue gem nestled near the center of the heart.

He walked with calm, measured strides, his ripped blue jeans pulling taut across his muscular thighs, his black designer leather jacket swishing with the swing of his broad shoulders.

His amber eyes just like his older brother's flicked to mine for a moment, before fixing on the struggling douchebag in my incapacitating hold. "Stand down," he said in a bored tone. "You're making a scene."

"I'm the one kissing the hood, Seb!"

"For good reason, no doubt," Caleb said, blowing out a wisp of smoke toward him. He nudged Sebastian. "That's Skylar Bennett."

Sebastian started, then zeroed in on me.

Something flickered in his eyes that I didn't understand.

"Let him go. He yields," he spoke, coolly, his silvery voice rolling over me.

"Hmm, three against one isn't gonna work for me. It'll take too long and I need to get to class."

"Too long. Interesting," Caleb mused to himself.

"It's not a ploy," Sebastian said. "We're not gonna hurt you." He gestured out at the main building where a bunch of people had now gathered. "Like I said, a scene is being made. A couple of the faculty have even joined the viewing party. I'm sure that's not the sort of attention you wanted on your first day. Not exactly conducive to this fresh start of yours, is it?"

I jolted.

How did he know about that?

The slight twitch of his lips let me know he had intended it to hit home for me.

I shot another look at the onlookers.

And then with a grunt, I roughly released Damien, then stepped back.

I snatched up my bag that had fallen in the kafuffle and glared at Damien as he pushed off the hood and spun toward me, rage and indignation blazing forth.

He took a step toward me.

"Cas wouldn't approve," Sebastian spoke.

Cas? They had to be talking about Caspian King. The big-shot business tycoon, a young prodigy who headed the mammoth conglomerate of King and basically had the city in the palm of his hands at only twenty-three years of age.

It had Damien freezing, just those three words.

He growled.

And then, surprisingly, he turned from me and walked to them.

"What does that mean?" he demanded, looming over his brother.

"It's not your business."

"The fuck it isn't. Just because you cut me out, doesn't mean—"

"This is done." Sebastian stared up at him evenly.

"She was belligerent. Then I find out she's the daughter of the woman giving Mom so much fucking trouble."

"Aww, there's Mommy's Boy rising and shining again," Caleb said.

Damien started toward him, but Sebastian pressed a hand to his chest.

"She can fight her own battles," Caleb went on. "Stay behind her skirt where you're most comfortable. Or, is it up her skirt now with the whole Oedipus thing you've got going on there?"

Damien made a move, but Caleb slipped his hand into his jacket pocket.

It had Damien stilling and backing off.

He obviously knew what was in there. I stared, not seeing the bulge of a gun. A blade, perhaps? That was a lot harder to discern.

His eyes were black as he looked at Damien.

But when Damien stood down, they returned to their resting mocha shade.

"Let it go," Sebastian told his brother in a calm, but non-negotiable firm tone.

"You really think you can tell me—"

"Not me. Cas."

Damien stared at him for a moment.

And then he hissed and stepped back.

With a vicious glance at me, he turned on his heel and strode away.

"And she won't be meeting you in that locker room!" Caleb called after him.

Damien flipped him the bird, then continued on.

Well, that entire thing had been more than a little interesting from start to finish.

Stop it. Don't get pulled in.

"Fucking shithead. Could at least change up his threats. Locker room bullshit." Caleb eyed me. "Choking on his cock, right? That was what he threw at you?"

"Pretty much."

"Not the best start to a new year."

"Your strategy this time won't work next time," Sebastian spoke.

"What?"

He gestured at the hood. "Pinning him down like that. You were able to manage it from shock value more than anything else. He has a lot of raw power but he was too thrown off balance that somebody—and a little thing at that—actually challenged him, especially physically."

Little did he know that it was much more than that.

But I wasn't supposed to be that person anymore, so I had to let him think his reasoning stood.

"Noted." I adjusted my bag on my shoulder. "Does he do that a lot? Threaten girls with the locker room thing?"

Caleb nodded. "Anyone who challenges him."

"But nobody does," Sebastian cut in. "It's a rumor of a threat, it's never played out."

"He takes people to the locker room, but they're on their knees with their mouths open without him having to say a word," Caleb said.

Urgh.

"Well, as lovely as this whole thing has been, I need to get to class."

As I brushed past them, Sebastian's voice rang out.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

I stopped and turned back. "You're waiting on a thank-you, is that it? You didn't help me. I had him incapacitated. And you only intervened at the tail end because it was making a scene that your media reputations can't accommodate. I don't owe you."

And the last thing I needed was that being put out there.

Caleb grinned. "She's got some balls, no doubt."

Sebastian merely glared. "If you owed us, you'd know about it. There'd be absolutely no confusion there."

"Well, then. It's a good thing I don't."

His hand came my way and I tensed, only to see that he was holding out a phone to me.

My phone that I'd dropped earlier.

I hastily took it from him and pocketed it.

But he still wasn't done, telling me, "You don't even appear to be shaken. Being confronted with the ire of Damien is not something most people can merely shrug off."

Oh, right. Of course. Shit.

I held out my hand. "See? Shaking? I'm just wearing it well."

"That's adrenaline."

"I need to get to class."

"History of Architecture."

I stilled. How did he—

"It's been canceled."

"How do you—"

"I'm in the same class."

"He missed some credits, my boy needs to catch up," Caleb explained.

"Canceled? On the first day of a new semester, a new year, actually?"

He pulled out his phone from his form-fitting leather jacket, scrolled for a moment, then showed me a notice that had come in from the school.

Sure enough, the class had been abruptly canceled last-minute.

Still not trusting it, I pulled out my own phone to check.

And there was the same notification.

It had come in while I'd been dealing with Damien.

It was more than a little strange, though.

Something was off here.

Maybe it was just my paranoia raging out of control.

The thing with Damien had probably just triggered that side of me left over from my former life. All that Jett stuff… and other stuff I couldn't be allowing myself to think about.

"Seems so," Caleb said.

"Gives me time to prepare for the next one then."

"It gives us time to show you around, help you get your bearings," Sebastian spoke.

I frowned. "Why would you want to do that? I just got into an altercation with your brother and I'm the daughter of the woman causing your mom grief."

"I don't care about any of that."

"Then what do you care about?"

"Take a walk with us."

"And then I'll find out, huh?"

"No."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't need a tour. I know where everything is." I'd made sure of that when I'd come to visit the campus in the summer after I'd gotten accepted.

"I'd caution you to reconsider."

I stilled. "Or what?"

"This favorable treatment you've experienced from us will prove to be a distant memory."

"That's fine by me. I'm just here to learn and study, nothing more."

"You don't want any trouble."

"Exactly."

Sebastian stepped forward. "I'm afraid it's too late for that."

"And why is that?" I challenged.

He reached out and fingered a curl. "Because you've already caught our attention, beautiful."

I batted his hand away. "From a parking spot dispute with your brother?"

"I told you that I don't care about that."

"Then what? Why all this interaction? Special treatment?"

He stepped into me, all that height looming over me, all that hard muscle pressing against my softness.

It had my breath hitching in an involuntary response.

That, combined with my commitment to not allow anything to ignite that former version of me that had caused me so much trouble before, had me literally freezing in place, caught in inaction.

He interpreted it a whole other way.

Favorably.

And then he was leaning in, his hot breath sending a rush of heat through me and sparking my nerve-endings to life—and other things—as it fanned over the side of my neck.

A rough whisper sounded at my ear, his silvery voice, his overwhelming presence, an invigorating woodsy scent coming off him, infusing every part of me, as he said, "Because I know who you really are, Onyx."

Shit.

My blood ran cold at the invocation of that name.

How the hell? How was this even possible? I'd covered my tracks.

He eased back, eyeing me intensely.

Expectantly.

He wanted my confirmation.

Actually, considering this whole interaction, he wanted a lot more than that.

I couldn't.

I couldn't go there.

I swallowed hard past the lump that had formed in my throat.

But no words formed.

No response did.

It had me doing the only thing I could in the moment.

I turned around and ran.