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Filthy Gods (American Gods) by R. Scarlett (6)


 

 

 

 

The breeze blew over my bare leg and I stirred, blinking at the brightness seeping in the room.

Nathaniel’s room.

My heart froze and I glanced around. Seeing the suite in daylight, all white and crisp and pristine—made me feel out of place.

I looked over my shoulder to see Nathaniel laying on the other side of the bed.

His usually slicked-back hair was tousled and his perfect mouth slightly parted. No frown rested between his brows. Watching Nathaniel sleep made him feel more real; he looked more like a man than ever before.

He was exposed, vulnerable and I drank it up. No mocking words or smug smiles sent my way. Only a man caught between sleep. Defenseless against me.

I had pictured what he would look like for once without his defenses as I competed against him.

Rolling my lip between my teeth, I sighed in pleasure.

Only in these moments would I see a glimpse of something human. He was too conceited, too arrogant to expose the true person behind the allure of a god.

I slid out of bed, gathering my clothes and shoes, and tiptoed out. It was only quarter to five am, but I needed to be back in my own bed, or my roommates would question my absence.

Walking in the rising sunlight through the powerful manor made me feel invincible and sick to my stomach. I had slept with Nathaniel Radcliffe last night and enjoyed it too much.

When I entered the tiny cottage where I stayed with four other girls, Mandy, already dressed in her white outfit, glowered at me.

“Where were you?” She cocked her hip.

I brushed my hair back and tied it up into a high ponytail. “I went for a run.”

Mandy’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t come back here last night.”

My stomach twisted. “I did.”

Mandy continued to stare at me as I fixed my blouse. I wouldn’t be able to change now and I’d have to wear the clothes I wore yesterday, or she’d question me further.

Danielle walked past us. “You guys ready?”

I nodded and ignored Mandy’s cool gaze the entire walk back to the manor. If she found out I slept with Mrs. Hawthorne’s son, I wasn’t sure what she would do. She would think I was using sex to get the reference.

The entire day I worked, avoiding the guests as much as possible. I thought over my deal with Nathaniel. If we were to get caught, he wouldn’t lose anything, but I would. I would lose my job and a chance at getting a powerful reference for my future. It would probably ruin my reputation at school too. But I couldn’t deny how good his hands had felt on my hips, in my hair, inside of me. So deep inside of me. Or how his words lit a fire that wouldn’t burn out.

He was right about one thing.

We needed to rid ourselves of each other. I couldn’t carry on the rest of my time at Yale distracted by Nathaniel. Once I kicked the need out of me by the end of summer, I could move on and focus.

“Ms. Monroe.” A voice called to me as I carried a change of white towels in my arms. I turned to see Mrs. Hawthorne standing at the front entrance with a couple and two preteens, both distracted by their cell phones.

I approached them, with a shaky smile. I snuck a quick glance at Mrs. Hawthorne and her dark eyes scorched across my skin. Sizing me up.

“Would you be so kind to show Senator Scott where the bar is?” she asked, her voice just as calm and smooth as her son’s. “He’s a dear family friend.”

Great. Just peachy.

I smiled at her, shifting the towels in my arms. “Of course.”

She nodded and turned to the wife and children, escorting them away.

I turned to Senator Scott. He looked to be in his mid-forties with gray peppering his dark hair. He was tall and lean, dressed in a polo shirt and khaki pants and brown loafers.

“You can call me Daniel,” he said, reaching out to shake my hand.

I fumbled with the towels but managed to shake his hand. His fingers slid across the edge of my palm as I pulled back. I glanced up at him, only to find him grinning down at me.

“Please follow me, Senator,” I said, keeping my voice leveled as I turned away. He, at first walked behind me for a moment and then appeared at my side, grinning even wider.

“I’m a Senator for California.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching me.

I nodded, uncomfortable under his gaze. He was looking at me like he was undressing me.

He bent his head lower as if trying to get a better look at my face. “How old are you?”

“Twenty,” I said, trying to sound pleasant, but professional. If he found me rude, he could complain to Mrs. Hawthorne.

“And you’re in school?”

I held my head high. “Yale. Going into my fourth year for pre law.”

He whistled at that and looked down at me. “I went to Yale. Years ago, but I don’t recall such beautiful women like you there.”

I held back from cringing at his words. He had a wife and two kids. Why was he acting this way? Jackass.

As we walked through the manor, past a few men returning from golfing, I felt the back of my neck grow hot. When we made it to the bar, I smiled at him and turned, only for his hand to snake around my wrist.

I stared at his hand, large palm engulfing me.

“Don’t be in such a rush, darling.” He scoffed and searched through his suit jacket pocket. Slowly, he pulled out a wad of bills, plucking fifties out as if to impress me. “Here. For your precious time.” He extended his hand, a fifty in his palm.

“Not needed, sir. It was a pleasure talking to you,” I said, pressing a faint smile on my mouth and stepping back.

“Oh c’mon,” he whined, stepping closer. “Just fifteen minutes of your time.”

I shook my head and turned away, walking fast. I didn’t want him to chase me.

I wiped my hands on my skirt, feeling dirty. The way he looked at me was like he wanted to devour me. I shivered.

After that, the rest of the day went by quickly and I successfully avoided Nathaniel.

As I made my way back to the cottages, Peter, one of the waiters, stopped me. “We need extra help tonight in the dining hall. Can you fill in?”

I rubbed my hands across my skirt and glanced back at the white brick cottages shadowed by willow trees. My only escape. My only oasis here.

I sighed. “Sure.”

Just like the girls, the male staff wore white polo shirts and shorts, but at dinner time, a white suit jacket and white pants. I was told it was to keep the classic look to the country club and to make everyone perform as not to ruin their clothes.

I served wine to all the guests seated, smiling politely, making sure not to interrupt their conversations.

And then my stomach dropped.

Before me, in the bay window, sat Nathaniel, wearing a dark suit jacket, so dark against his tanned olive skin.

His eyes caught mine and I watched as his hand on the table curled into a fist.

Just like that, his eyes set me on fire and made my legs tremble, my core throbbing and aching for him to fill me again.

But he wasn’t alone.