The Heirs: Cold-Hearted

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Tate

Zane isn't there at the dorm to walk me to class Monday morning. No coffee. No babbling conversation. He's just...missing. I try to ignore whatever weird, unwelcome feeling is expanding in my gut, but it's difficult.

He isn't there Tuesday or Wednesday, either.

He's in class, but doesn't make eye contact with me.

On Thursday morning, Renat mentions something.

"Where's your annoying friend?" he asks.

"Who cares?" I shrug as we walk to class in abnormally peaceful silence.

My lips buzz with muscle memory of Zane taking what he wanted from me, pinning me to that wall and kissing me till I couldn't breathe.

I hate to admit I've never been kissed like that.

Carter Willis certainly could never.

It's annoying. And unwelcome.

There's still a bruise of a hickey on my neck which I've been strategically covering with makeup each day since the...incident. It still stings if I press hard enough. Which I do. Far too often. Much to my own chagrin.

I wonder what his lips, tongue, and teeth would feel like other places.

Jesus Christ. I need therapy.

After classes Thursday, Imogen, Ariana, Sophie, Eva, Hannah, and I go to the gym off campus to get some real working out in. Uncle Tristan has been on our cases in the group chat we have with all the cousins and aunts and uncles to make sure us girls are still practicing our self-defense and fighting despite the fact that he's not there to train us.

It was actually Sophie's idea to come to the gym.

She's surprisingly scrappy. Don't be fooled by the Louis Vuitton lifestyle.

"You good?" Sophie asks me as we stretch our legs together on the mats.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah," I clear my throat, distracted. "A little hungover from last weekend still, I think."

Again, partial truths make it easier to lie. Too many things are swirling through my head – worrying about my brother, wondering what the Black Wolves are really up to, what happened to Rory Farrell. Most annoyingly – where the fuck has Zane Sokolov been the last few days?

"You really need to work on your tolerance then," Sophie says, narrowing her eyes like she doesn't believe a damn thing I say.

After stretching our muscles, the four of us start practicing our kickbox moves. Sophie does some self-defense drills with us and annoyingly whoops my ass.

We work up enough of a sweat in the first hour that I find myself slumping against the water cooler to take a break.

"What are we doing this weekend?" Ariana asks excitedly.

"Party at the Wolves, of course," Sophie smirks. "Also...I'm thinking club Saturday night. I have a new pair of heels I want to test out."

"It's all about the outfit," I tease.

"Naturally," Sophie's grin widens. "You all in?"

"Absolutely!" Ariana nods.

I shrug. It's not like there's anything else to do.