T W E N T Y - F O U R

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"I wish I felt nothing when I heard your name."

— unknown

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His kisses tasted like memories. Hot, cruel, and unforgiving. 

He had devoured her like he had known her body before she had ever known his. Burying himself in her like she was something to be cherished, like she was something important.

Yet, she woke alone in his bed. She had questioned how he was able to keep such a nice dorm when he wasn't prefect anymore and his only whisper had been money before devouring. She ran her hands over his silk sheets, remembering how she had gripped them tightly in her hands the night before, how her legs had glided over them. He had her withering under his touch, squirming and sobbing for more.

She hadn't remembered falling asleep but she remembered her dreams. It was one that kept coming back, one that came to her so easily when she had been wrapped up in his arms that it nearly hadn't stung. But she felt how cold the water was in her dream-like state. She had been on the beach, the cold waves crashing at her knees.

She always on the beach in these strange dreams.

Rowan dressed quickly, glancing at herself in a little mirror he had set up on the wall. She wondered if he placed it there, so close to the bed, as a way to watch himself when he devoured other girls. She shook that thought from her head and adjusted her sweater to hide the devilish marks he'd left on her.

The night before had been perfect. He had held her close and ravaged her body in a way she wasn't familiar with but craved regardless. It was something rough and passionate they hadn't breached together until the hotheaded moments that lead up to it. He had whispered to her, nipping at her ear, "One last time, one last time, one last time." 

As if it were an oath, a promise to himself never to stray.

She hadn't realized he'd meant it until she woke up alone. She didn't want it to hurt but it crushed at her chest. He was going through something he would never admit to her. 

"Run away with me," she had whispered between caresses, between thrusts. "Let's just run from this."

He had only ducked his head against her and kissed up her neck. She knew he could never abandon his responsibilities, especially for her. There was too much at stake for him, and she had hoped he would tell her. Not just to calm her own curiosity but so she could find a way to help him.

Rowan didn't know why she felt like she needed to help him. He was someone she hated, someone she had been disgusted by. He was prejudice, rude, arrogant, dangerous, and the list goes on. But she was infatuated by him, the way he moved and spoke, the elegance in his cruelty.

He had hurt her, so many times, and through his hungrily kisses, he had spoken apologies on her skin like curses. Like he was hexing her with just the touch of his lips, his hips, his hands.

She rested on the edge of his bed, feeling somewhat sore and began pulling her shoes and socks back on, ignoring the way her heart fluttered at the thought of his hands on her skin. She had just gotten her shoes on all the way when his bedroom door opened and her head shot up like a cannon.

"You're awake," he murmured, closing the door softly behind him.

She nodded, brushing the hair from her face and hoping he didn't notice the tinge to her cheeks. She hadn't thought he would come back. In his hands, he carried a small bundle wrapped in napkins from the Great Hall.

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