Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“It’s late on Sunday. They’re not gonna be at either of our rooms.”
He says it so confidently, as though he’s memorized their schedules.
“What do they do Sunday nights?”
He glances at me, then looks away just as quickly. “Probably just out.”
He’s so weird about the strangest things.
I get back to chatting about the gameplay we shared with Spencer and Malcom. But even as he engages, it’s clear his mind’s elsewhere. He likely wants to get back to his room and go through the pages he captured on his phone. And really, I want to do the same.
After we get back to our dorm, I say, “It was a fun day. Maybe we can do something like that again, but without the whole…you know.”
His expression twists up. “Yeah, it was fun,” he says, as though it surprises him.
“Maybe we can see what Spencer and Malcom are up to next weekend.”
He leans back, eyeing me suspiciously.
“I’m being serious,” I assure him.
He searches around. “Do you need me to go with you into your room to make sure I didn’t take anything I shouldn’t have?”
“Now you’re practically begging to be strip-searched,” I joke. “And I thought Spencer was the one who wanted to fuck me. But I mean, I do need to get off, so…”
I’ve earned another laugh. One that reminds me that, fucked up as today’s been, I enjoy hanging with the guy.
“But seriously,” Alexei says. “I don’t mind you checking to see. I want you to know that really was all I was after.”
He starts emptying pockets for me, and it’s a sweet gesture. Of course, he could have easily hidden things in other places. But judging by his reaction when I sent myself those images from his phone, that seemed to be all he was really after. Maybe I’m falling for his con, but maybe because I want to believe him, I find myself trusting him more than I did when I first confronted him.
“I’m good, Alexei. I’m glad I helped you get what you needed.”
“Thank you. Again.”
“Night, Lex.”
“See you later, Teo.” He offers an awkward wave before starting down the hall.
My gaze drops, watching that hot, bitable ass shift in his jeans. Straight as I know I am, I don’t know why it intrigues me, but it most definitely does.
He glances over his shoulder like he could fucking feel me ogling him. “Drink it in,” he says with a wink, which has me laughing again.
I head into my room, pulling out my phone and falling onto my bed. Time to see what Alexei was after.
I scroll through the notebook pages, noticing some strange drawings. When I was a kid, I remember being with my parents and discovering a tantric sex book with loads of diagrams, and there are several images that remind me of that, vague illustrations of people in sexual positions.
As I return to the first page, a heading catches my eye: Conjuring and Summoning. And underneath: Summoning requires intense concentration and entering a state of mind where one can open up to the forces from the Rift.
This must be some kind of fucking spell. Like magic-spell bullshit.
I read on: Being a receiving partner during intercourse, submitting entirely to the insertive partner, is the surest way to gain access to this power.
My thoughts drift to Alexei with those tears in his eyes. He said he needed this. This is what he was being paid with? Some fucking sex spell?
My heart sinks. My chest tightens.
What the ever-loving fuck has Alexei gotten himself into?
5
ALEXEI
“If you want this, you’ll have to do things you won’t enjoy. Things you may find repulsive.”
Preston’s words have haunted me since I first reviewed the photos I captured from the Saints’ notebook. He warned me, and I’ve walked in on them enough times in the middle of one of their rituals to know what they’ve had to subject themselves to. But it was easy to agree when I didn’t know the extent of what I was signing up for.
Now it’s staring me in the face, the sequence of events I have to get through, how involved the process is. I can’t help wondering if that’s one of the reasons Preston keeps putting it off.
As if seeing these pages isn’t bad enough, I know Matteo looked at them too. I’ve seen him around our floor at the dorms and around campus since Sunday night, and he’ll look at me, but we won’t talk. He must think I’ve lost my mind. That this is all nonsense. And maybe that’s better than knowing the truth.
Although, it sucks. I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together. Even just goofing around at Malcom’s was nice. It’s too bad because, if not for this, maybe we could have been friends.
On Wednesday after classes, I find a voice mail from Dad, so when I get back to my dorm room, I return his call.