Ever.

I gulped, feeling Damon’s arms tighten around me. “You’re not him.”

“Him who?”

“L—Let me go,” I stammered but didn’t have time to scream.

He whipped us around, carrying me away, and I pushed at his body to get away.

A door opened, then closed, and I was forced back into the room, my combat boot hitting something on wheels. A bucket, I think. We must be in a closet.

My mind raced. The bucket would have a mop. That was a weapon.

“You did this?” I asked, realization finally hitting me. The alarm. He and I alone in the school. Did he see Rika leave me alone in the library?

“What do you want?” I yelled and then shouted at the top of my lungs, “Help!” I sucked in another breath. “Help!”

His hand found my throat, and I was pinned to the wall. I grabbed his wrist, fighting to pull it off.

“What do you want?” I struggled to speak, rage coursing through my veins.

His body came in close as he spoke down to me. “Are you scared?”

I shifted on my feet, struggling with his hand on my neck. “No,” I gritted out.

“Liar.”

“Fuck you!” I fired back. “Let me out!”

I kicked at his leg, but he didn’t budge. I kicked him again, harder, and twisted my body out of his grasp, finally feeling him lose his hold. I ran for it, but he grabbed hold of my necktie and yanked me back to him.

My body slammed into his. “Let me out!” I screamed again. “My sister is ready for you. Always ready for you. Why don’t you bring her in here?”

He picked me up again, this time wrapping his arms around me like a steel band, my arms pinned to my body under his tight hold.

“Why bother with her when there’s you?” he taunted. “I like you.”

I shook my head at him. He was horrible. And disgusting and sick, and I hated that I had his attention. I wished he’d never laid eyes on me. Was this it then? Was he going to hurt me again? It wouldn’t be like last time. I was old enough to know how men hurt women now.

“You know, a lot of girls would love to be in your position right now,” he told me.

“Yeah, I’m guessing you didn’t almost kill them once upon a time.”

“Do you want me to apologize?”

I hesitated, because his tone actually gave the impression he would apologize if I asked him to. “No,” I finally answered.

“Why?”

“Because I won’t forgive you anyway,” I said.

No need to waste your time.

He held me, his chest moving with mine, and I could feel his eyes on my face. He didn’t speak for several seconds.

When he did, it sounded almost sad. “Winter…”

But whatever he wanted to say, he didn’t finish, and I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to spend another six years recovering from anything he did to me. Another scratch, and I’d kill him to make sure he never touched me again.

“Aren’t you worried I’ll hurt you?” he asked, his tone threatening again.

I replied calmly. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because black.”

“Black?” he pressed.

I inched in, getting in his face. “Because I’m in the black right now, and here… I think I enjoy myself,” I said, remembering last night and the freedom of risking and fighting and meeting your match. I wanted that life. “The only part of me anyone can ever hurt is my heart, and there’s no one on the planet my heart is more out of reach from than you,” I growled.

He jostled me in his arms, and I could hear him breathing through his teeth.

“Big words for such a little girl,” he said.

“Same old, same old, from the same, scared little boy,” I shot back. “Still climbing into fountains to hide from Mommy?”

“Mommy?” he repeated. “I killed that bitch last night.”

I faltered, unnerved he would say something so odd. Of course, he was just talking shit. I’d heard his mother, Madame Delova, left Thunder Bay a few years ago and never returned.

What the hell was the matter with him? Did he want my father putting a restraining order on him? I hated Damon Torrance, but even I didn’t want that. It would just make my parents worry to learn I was having problems with him at school, and Thunder Bay would be like being in a frying pan if I got one of the school’s star players in trouble. Everyone would see it as my fault.

“Let me go,” I told him. “Let me go or I’ll bite.”

“Exactly what I had in mind.”

What? Why would he want me to bite him?

“Let me go,” I said.

He didn’t budge.

“Let. Me. Go.”

Nothing.

Diving in, I sank my teeth into his jaw, hearing him let out a chuckle, and bit down harder to shut him the hell up.

Asshole.

I couldn’t reach much, given my position, otherwise I’d go for his ear and tear it off, but I clamped down on his bone, my teeth digging into the skin.

Harder. I increased the pressure. Harder.

He froze, just standing there, and when his breathing became raspy, I knew he was about to tap out and let me go. It had to hurt.

But instead of freeing me, he stuttered, “Har—Harder.”

Rage twisted my face, and I bit down as hard as I could, my teeth aching in my jaw, and I heard him pant and gasp, and then his arms fell, and I was free. I fell to the ground and pushed him away, knocking him in the nose.

He grunted and stumbled, because I heard the shuffle of buckets and brooms.

“Next time, I’ll be armed. And I’ll kill you,” I told him.

I began to walk away, and I heard his voice behind me. “You might have to.”

I stopped for a second, feeling defeated. Why? Why would I have to? Would he not stop? What did he want?

“Would you have forgiven me…” he asked, “if I’d gone over the side of the treehouse with you that day?”

I stood there, tears burning the backs of my eyes.

I didn’t know how to answer. I searched my brain. Why did that question strike me like it did? It seemed almost vulnerable. It was the first moment since I’d started school here that he hadn’t acted like an asshole.

Would I have forgiven him if he’d been hurt, too? I could’ve died that day. I could’ve been hurt a lot worse than I was now. My neck could’ve broke. I could’ve wound up in a coma for the rest of my life.

And he could’ve gone over with me and been hurt and killed, too. What would be my thoughts about him now if that had happened? Would I be more forgiving?

Maybe.

I thought about it.

Yes. I would’ve said ‘kids are kids’ and ‘bad things happen’. Children weren’t mature enough to control themselves. I would’ve tried to understand.

But even if I didn’t hate what he’d done to me all those years ago, I still hated him because of who he was now. Boys grew up. He hadn’t.

“I should’ve known it was you,” someone suddenly growled and I finally registered that the door to the closet had swung open.

I sucked in a breath and straightened as people barreled in, someone taking my hand and leading me out.

Five minutes later we were in the dean’s office, a loud slap piercing the air.

“She is a freshman!” Dean Kincaid bellowed at Damon. “Do you have any shame?”

I stood there, my hands locked behind my back as Damon and I stood a few feet apart in front of Kincaid’s desk.

Damon coughed and sniffled next to me. “I think she hurt me more than I hurt her,” he said, his breathing labored. “I’m bleeding like a stuck pig. You might just might be my type, girl.”

He laughed, and I ground my teeth together. I hadn’t realized I’d bit his jaw that hard. Or maybe it was from when I hit his nose.

Either way, good.

“You’re expelled,” Kincaid bit out, his tone clipped. “I don’t care what your father threatens me with. We’re going to end up on the goddamn national news because of you!”

“Expel me?” Damon challenged. “The alumni will love that. And perfect timing, too. Your contract is up for review. Wait till they hear you don’t like winning basketball games.”

Something slammed on the desktop in front of us, and I jumped.

I closed my eyes, exasperated. Oh, my God. He was a piece of work. And he was going to win, too. Kincaid wasn’t going to expel him. Not with wealthy, connected alumni caring more about athletics than they did education.

Wait until Damon actually grew up and realized the whole world wasn’t going to bend over for him forever.

It was only a matter of time for me, though. Before he’d be too much to take, and something would have to be done. Dealing with all the anger and attitude in the school for getting him expelled or taking myself and going back to Montreal. I didn’t want to leave. That would be a sure way never to see him again. The ghost. Whoever he was.

But life here would be intolerable if Damon backed me into a corner and I had to fight back. No one would be on my side.

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. “Don’t bother, Mr. Kincaid,” I muttered. “I’m leaving the school.”

“The fuck you are,” Damon growled. And then to Mr. Kincaid, “It was just a disagreement. I’ll leave her alone. You have my word.”

“Your word…” he mocked.

“I don’t lie,” Damon said, anger hardening his voice. “She’ll be fine. I swear. I won’t even look at her for the rest of the year, as long as I’m at this school and under your care. I promise.” He evened out his tone. “The basketball team goes on, she can stay, and we’ll pretend this never happened. Her father doesn’t have to know.” And then to me, “Right?”

I hardened my jaw, standing there and not giving him an ounce of my attention. Was he telling the truth? Could he stay out of my way?