Born Wicked

XLVI

My feet dangle in the air as my assailants shoulder digs into my stomach painfully. I'm kicking wildly, hitting nothing and punching my fists into a broad back.

We're inside one of the locker rooms in no time at all. There are students rushing about, the faculty trying to get ahold of things, the commotion so out of control, no one notices. I'm screaming, "Put me down!"

As soon as my feet touch the tile floor, I realize I've lost a shoe. I have no time to think beyond that, when I receive a wicked back hand to my cheek. It's the kind of hit that spins you about. Oh, fuck.

Inside my head, everything explodes.

"You die tonight, bitch," Shane growls.

Oh, God. Terror grips me hard. I kick out of my one shoe and spin to face him properly. I stand ready, with my small fists up, my feet apart in a fighting stance.

His eyebrows shoot up. "Oh, really?" his grin is terrifyingly evil.

He stalks around me slowly, I move with him watching his every move. He's bigger than me. He's stronger than me. He's emotionless. He's going to hurt me bad.

"You got guts, girl," he taunts me. "Practicing magic. And both Spiritus and Tempore, too? And then you make Julian fall in love with you," he sneers. "That was it, I think. I mean, the Guild already wanted you dead because you've been practicing. But once it got out how Julian felt about you, Mr. Cross wanted you dead too."

"So, you're his hired gun?" I jeer.

His scowl darkens. "I'm Julian's right hand. When he takes over the Council, I'm his guy. It's my job to kill you."

"Wow," I say scornfully. "That's all that's in it for you?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Nah" he snickers wickedly, "I hate you, Jayme-Lynn. And I'm just sadistic enough to enjoy what I'm about to do to you."

I swallow hard. He inches closer to me and I try to kick him, but the goddamned dress is too fucking tight. I know I'm trouble. My legs are my strongest asset here, he is so much bigger and stronger than me. I won't be strong enough with just my hands. Damn.

It's over before I even throw a punch. How pathetic is that? He grabs me by my throat and slams into the cold, hard tile floor. The air bursts from my lungs and my head cracks against the tile, black spots dot my vision. I swoon.

He straddles my legs, but I can't even try the throws Ethan showed me, I can't breathe. I'm gasping trying to get my shocked lungs to expand.

He's hovering over me, laughing cruelly in my face. "It's a shame," he murmurs silkily. "This dress was pretty badass."

Before I can digest what he's saying I hear fabric tearing. He's ripping my five hundred dollar dress. When I feel the cold air hit my exposed chest and stomach down to my thighs, I realize what's happening.

Oh, no. Nonononononononono—

Panic wells in my chest, choking my heart, constricting my efforts to breathe even more. I feel the tears seep from the corners of my eyes and wash into my hair.

It's when I hear his zipper that I lose my fucking mind completely. Physically, I can't beat him. Hell, I'd lost before I'd even begun. But to hell with it, I'm a goddamn Sorcer. A powerful Sorcer. My parents were John and Mattie Price. That resolve boosts my spirits. I feel the clover burn at the base of my throat mixing with the sweat and tears pooled there.

I dig deep and push him from me mentally. Suddenly his weight is gone, he's slammed into the cinderblock wall.

He laughs, the sound evil and completely terrifying. "Psi-onic abilities, Jayme-Lynn? Really?"