Uncharted Territory (The Compass Series Book 3) (3 page)

I was reluctant at first, not wanting to impose my lame-ass, first-year self on him, but he always seems happy to see me so I’ve tried to let it go. Tried to believe I might be worth his attention. He’s cultivated that—stopping by my room, inviting me to eat with him or watch one of a drawer full of awesomely bad movies.
Point Break
is a recurring favorite.

Last week when I was having a meltdown over how to get all my work done, I sought him out against my better judgment. He calmed me down, then helped me make a plan that even allowed for eating and sleep. When we were through, I felt so much better. Better still when he texted me silly messages over the next few days:

How’s my Queen Bee? Meet me at Hoagie Haven, 1 PM. We’ll split your fave and then you can buzz off.

He’s such a dork. He’s also my only real friend here. Though I’ve met a lot of people, most of them haven’t left an impression. They float by, names and faces to be stored away so I can perform the barest of social obligations.

Thankfully, people have started drifting out of their aggressive friend-grab sociability and are settling into cliques. It had been exhausting. I can only put on a mask of giving a fuck for so long. I’m settling into a quiet night of poli-sci homework when there’s a knock at my door.

“Come in,” I call, not bothering to take my eyes off my book. Yes, Robert Kennedy’s role in the Cuban Missile Crisis is just that fascinating.

“India, India, India…”

“Hi, Rey.”

“It’s Saturday night, little one. What are you doing with your nose in a book?”

Isn’t it obvious?
Rey, on the other hand, is not planning on studying. Instead he looks delicious in some dark jeans and a fitted T-shirt. Nope, no books for Rey tonight.

“That was rhetorical. But seriously, no one asked you for a date?”

I shrug.

“Someone did, yes?”

“No,” I hedge, not meeting his eyes.

“Someones?”

Dammit.
“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Four.”

“And none of them appealed to you?”

I frown and glare at him. No, they didn’t appeal. None of them do. We’ve had this conversation before.

“What do you want, Rey?”

“I want you to be happy. So tell me, what do
you
want?”

“Honestly?”

“Of course. I always want you to be honest with me. Actually, it’s really important that you’re always honest with me.”

I stare, measuring him. After only a month at school, I can’t imagine what my life used to be like without him. It would be pretty hard to shock him, but I’m not a big risk-taker and the thought of losing him because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut terrifies me. But what the hell? I can always pass it off as a joke if things go badly.

“Someone like you, but who actually wants to fuck me.”

His eyebrows go up the slightest bit. “D’you mean that?”

“Yes.” I realize how true that is. I feel adrift and at a loss, but at the same time wound too tight. I’m in need of an anchor, someone who’s strong enough to allow me to let go and not worry I’m going to get washed out with the tide. Rey’s the only person who’s ever made me feel that way, but he can’t be everything to me.

Rey walks into my room and closes the door before coming to stand beside my chair. I wrap my arms around his hips and bury my head into the side seam of his jeans, closing my eyes. He smells incredible, a heady mix of expensive cologne, hair product, and what must be the raw scent of control: eau de Rey. Someone should bottle it. I’d buy it by the gallon. While I breathe him in, he rests a hand on my head and strokes my hair.

“I might be able to help you with that.”

My eyes fly open, and I hold him tighter. “Don’t fuck with me.”

“I wouldn’t, India. You know that.”

It’s true. Rey always tells me the truth, and he wouldn’t mock me. Not about this.

“Come on,” he says, “I’m not going out tonight. We’re going to watch a movie.”

“
Point Break
?”

“I had something else in mind.”

*

The credits of
Secretary
are rolling as I lay under Rey’s heavy arm. He’s spooning me on his bed, my head tucked under his chin. I feel warm, safe and…confused.

“Why did you want me to watch that?”

“Why do you think?”

I pull away and roll onto my back to look up at him.

“What was that about to you?” he prods.

I frown. Is this a trick question? “It was a love story.”

“That’s it? A love story?” His cocked eyebrow mocks me.

“Unless I’m missing something, I don’t think it was some larger commentary on the modern military industrial complex.” He chuckles.
Goddammit, Rey, you’re annoying sometimes.

“I don’t think so, either. I agree with you. It’s a love story. But you do get that a lot of people wouldn’t understand it as a love story, right? That’s not what love looks like to most people?” He toys with a strand of my hair, winding it around his finger and tugging.

“I suppose.”

Yes, I very well know this. I’ve grown up surrounded with, buried under, drowning in images of love just like everyone else. Up until now, nothing’s ever looked like this. The collar and the cuffs, the red pens, the spanking (
Oh. My. God. The spanking!
), the control, the discipline. This is not
The Notebook
. Truth be told, while my friends were all swooning over Ryan Gosling, I had to fake it. I had to fake everything. Still do.

“Is that what love looks like to you, little one?”

“Why? Is that what love looks like to you?”

“More or less.” He twists my hair into a long rope and winds it around his wrist as my breath comes quicker.

“But with a boy?”

“Naturally. Along with some finer points. Aren’t you going to ask if I’m an E. Edward or a Lee?”

“I don’t have to.”

“No, you don’t.” There’s a soft pull of my hair, and Rey smiles. “So is that what love looks like to you, India?”

My heart is racing like a runaway train. Most people would say no. That’s what I’m supposed to say. If Rey hadn’t already given me tacit approval to say it out loud because he gave voice to it, I wouldn’t. But he has. “More than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“I thought that might be true.” He releases my hair with one last tug, and suspicion creeps over me. I’ve worked hard to read like a blank slate and it disturbs me that he
knew
.

“How could you tell?”

“I knew the first time I met you. You liked it when I held your hand a little too hard. Your lips parted, your pupils dilated, and your chest collapsed because all the air left your lungs. Didn’t it?” I don’t answer, don’t have to. “You’ve been waiting for permission to be who you are your whole life, and when I gave it to you, you lit up from the inside.”

My stomach lurches at the truth in his words, though there’s no threat in his tone, more of a promise. All the same, it freaks me out. Can everyone see that? “It was that obvious?”

“Only to me. I have a talent.”

“You have many talents.”

“More than you know. But one of them is finding people like us. And teaching them.”

“Teaching them what?”

‡

Year One

S
omeone is knocking
on my door. Loudly. I slip my headphones off, and yes, there’s outright pounding. I know who to expect when I open up.

“Shut your books, little one, I’m taking you out tonight.” Rey’s eyes are bright with mischief.

I’d protest, but he’s got that manic look about him that tells me not to bother. I stand in my doorway, assessing him. Tight black T-shirt over dark jeans, topped off with a plain black leather jacket and boots. Rey looks edible. Or more accurately, hungry. Someone’s getting lucky tonight.

“Come on, I’ll pick out your clothes while you finish up. You will not be disappointed tonight, I promise. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Okay, okay.” I may sound grudging, but I’m faking it. Rey’s enthusiasm is infectious. I throw myself back into my desk chair and finish my chapter while Rey rummages through my closet.

When he’s satisfied, he thrusts a pile of black into my arms. “Get dressed.”

I strip and put on what he’s handed me. Short, black leather skirt and a black lace shirt that goes over a black satin bra. My heart starts pounding as hard as he’d been pounding on my door.

“Tonight?”

“Oh, yes.”

Half an hour later, we’re in Rey’s BMW, and he’s not the only one who’s on edge.

“Are you sure?”

“They’re going to love you. And don’t worry. You don’t have to do anything. As far as everyone who’s there is concerned, you’re mine.”

When we pull into the winding drive half an hour later, I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been in my nearly eighteen-and-a-half years. Rey parks his car at the end of a long line and turns to me.

“It’s showtime. Are you ready for this?”

“I don’t know.”

He takes my hands in his and looks me in the eyes. I feel more settled, like I always do upon his touch. Rey must have tranquilizers running through his veins instead of blood like normal people. Or maybe he gives them off like pheromones. Who knows? Whatever it is, it’s a welcome black magic. Or maybe fairy dust, I’m not sure yet.

“There’s a first time for everything. If this isn’t your first time, then it’s not. That’s rule number one: you never have to do anything you don’t want to do. We’ll go home and get shit-faced while we watch
Point Break
. Again.”

I laugh and shake my head.

“All right, Johnny Utah, let’s go.”

He slips something out of his pocket and shows it to me. I nod before I gather up my hair and turn in my seat. I’m worried I’ll freak when I feel the leather coming around my neck, but I don’t. Instead, I feel protected, safe, loved as he tightens and buckles the collar. Like part of Rey will never leave me, he’ll always be thinking of me because I belong to him. I’m his responsibility. That’s what the closed silver lock hanging heavy at my throat will say to everyone at the party, too. The tightly wound spring that’s always been inside of me loses the slightest bit of tension, and I sigh in relief.

“Feel good?”

“Yeah.” I turn to face him, trying not to think too hard about this.

“I know, little one, I know.” He grips a handful of my hair at the base of my skull and pulls me in to kiss my forehead.

*

The walk up
the drive is long, and I’m glad I’ve got Rey’s arm keeping me steady.
Must not drink too much tonight.
For several reasons, not the least of which is going to be getting back to Rey’s car under my own power. Although I’ve been assured that alcohol consumption is monitored closely at these parties because drinking while you kink is frowned upon, I’ve never had any problems getting alcohol if I’ve wanted it anywhere else. We pause a few yards from the front door where Rey tugs me behind a well-manicured topiary.

“You’re sure about this?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“All right. Let’s go show you off, shall we?”

“Yes, sir.” The words roll off my tongue like honey: sweet, right, and a little sticky. I’ve practiced saying them in the safety of my empty dorm room, under the silencing spray of the shower, and thousands of time in my head. But this is the first time I’ve said them to someone and it feels like sinking into a deceptively comfortable chair. On the outside, it looked stodgy and stiff, but on the inside, it’s soft and welcoming, like coming home.