Page 24 of Savage Don

My whole body seems to creak as I roll onto my side, eyes still slammed shut, and prepare myself for the ass-whooping that life is about to hand down to me.

What was I thinking?

You weren’t.

My memories of last night are sparse. All I can really remember is agreeing to go into that frat house with Janice. There were lots of people. Lots of plastic red cups. Lots of booze. And I got to know a little about all of those things.

More than a little.

I’m such an idiot. This pain banging around in my skull is a proper punishment for my foolishness. But it’s not the only punishment I’ll receive. That’s already clear.

Ripping my eyelids open, I say fuck it. It’s time to take on the consequences of my own actions.

Surprisingly, though, I’m not immediately punched in the face by a fist of regret.

Wherever I am, it’s dark and cozy. At my feet, I can feel a heavy duvet. My skin is cold and clammy, as if I’ve been sweating all night. I probably pushed the covers away pretty quickly.

But who’s covers are they?

Searching my throbbing mind, I force myself onto my ass. That’s when I realize what the familiar part of this place’s strange scent is. Booze. My clothes are soaked with it.

At least I’m fully clothed. That means I only made one mistake last night, right? If I had made another kind, I’m sure I’d be butt naked right about now.

My chest tightens as another memory whips through my aching mind. Collapsing against a headrest, I picture a face. At first, it’s hard to make out. Is it young or old? Rugged or smooth?

Shit. How many guys did I meet last night?

Then, the face becomes clear, if only for a second.

A sculpted jawline, covered in salt and pepper stubble. Thick, dark red lips. Shoulders like chiselled boulders and eyes as dark and piercing as the space between stars.

Ray.

Before I can get too lost in the mysterious stranger, though, another face replaces his. This face isn’t as clear, but it is just sharp enough to see that it’s much younger than the handsome older man who made me drop my books last night.

This new face wears a backwards baseball cap. His eyes are also dark, but where Ray’s eyes only wanted to make me look closer, these ones almost cause me to wretch.

Who the fuck are you?

Leaning over to the side, I try to will myself not to throw up. My stomach is twisting into knots and my head hurts so badly that I figure I might just die, but throwing up in a stranger’s bedroom is out of the question.

When the nausea has passed, I take a few deep breaths and try to make out my surroundings. The room may be dark, but it’s not pitch black. In the far corner, I can spot bright slivers of lights seeping out from beneath a tall pair of venetian blinds.

The sight only makes me want to puke even more.

It’s morning.

Wherever I am, it’s not home. Father’s men will know I’m gone. This is the end.

I’m fucked.

Before I can fall too deeply into that terrifying thought, though, I hear a rattle come from the other side of the dim bedroom.

Whipping my head around to inspect the noise is a bad idea. Almost immediately, the whole room goes blurry and it feels like I’ve been stuffed into a blender.

Everything spins as I grab onto the bedsheets and hold on for dear life. Up ahead, I can just make out where the rattling is coming from. A door.

Someone is coming in.