Like some cartoon character, her head went from me to the door and back again, to the door and back once more.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you. Hell, I won’t even f**kin’ talk to you if that helps,” I told her sharply and focused my eyes on the wooden coffee table before me, the moon through the skylight acting like a spotlight right above where I was sitting.

Hearing heels clicking on the wooden floor, I knew she’d chosen to stay.

Good. She wasn’t stupid, then.

The couch dipped beside me, and she sat on the edge of the sofa like she was at some Swiss finishing school, knees pressed together and her back ramrod straight. This time I huffed a reluctant laugh, and her head turned in my direction.

“What?” she whispered, a little venom in her tiny Bama voice.

My eyebrows rose in surprise at her attitude. She’d always been so meek the other times I’d seen her. Tonight she was showing some f**kin’ fire.

I twisted around to face her, my left arm lying across the back cushion of the couch. “You look like you’ve got a damn pole jammed up your ass sitting like that.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock, and I nearly laughed out loud as she eyed me weird, then slowly leaned back against the cushion, clearly trying to relax.

We then went back to silence, and it was as uncomfortable as f**k.

Suddenly, dogs began barking outside. I launched from the couch, ran to the window, and pulled back the curtain about an inch so I could see the frat’s yard.

“Shit,” I spat at what I was seeing.

“What is it? What are they looking for?” the chick asked from the couch.

I didn’t answer, too busy watching a student I didn’t know being cuffed and hauled away by the cops. The dean was walking along the line of students, asking questions, while another cop held up a white packet the student had been packing.

Fuck. I recognized the brand. It was the Heighters’ product.

SHIT!

The tread of quiet feet sounded on the floor behind me. “Austin, what’re they looking for? I’m freaking out here!”

Snapping the curtain back in place, I turned to see a porcelain pixie face looking up at me.

“What’s your name?” I asked bluntly. The chick seemed taken aback.

“What?” I asked again, confused by her strange reaction to my question.

She shook her head nervously and her chin-length jet-black hair rocked back and forth. “Y-you just shocked me, that’s all. You’ve never asked my name before. Didn’t think you’d ever want to know my name after the last few weeks.”

I dipped my chin and urged her to answer the question with my eyes. I saw her swallow, her neck so slender I could see her every move.

“Lexi,” she said as soft as a damn feather. “My name’s Lexi Hart.”

Rome had been right.

I don’t know why, but knowing her name made her seem more human, and I felt like an even bigger dick for the way I’d been treating her. She was so small. Seemed so fragile. Like the littlest thing could destroy her.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and here in the shadows of the room, only a slither of blue-hued moonlight reached where we stood, making her look kind of like she’d stepped fresh from the pages of a steam punk fairytale. Her skin was light and smooth, her hair the color of a raven, and those red lips. Her green eyes reminded me of the sea, a calm summer’s sea sleeping under a burning sunset.

She was f**kin’ gorgeous.

Fidgeting awkwardly at my heavy staring, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and pushed, “So? What’s happening out there?”

My teeth rolled over my bottom lip as I contemplated lying. But what was the point? Besides Rome, only little Lexi here knew what I was caught up in, what my brothers did for a living, the real Austin Carillo off the football field.

“The dogs,” she said quietly and stared up at me, looking a little scared. “They’re searching for drugs, aren’t they?”

I nodded my head cautiously.

Breathing loudly, she backed up to the sofa and sat on the edge, playing with her fingers, head cast down. I watched her mulling shit over, that was until she looked up through long black lashes and bravely asked, “Drugs supplied by your brother, I’m guessing?”

Protective instinct drove my reaction.

Storming forward, I towered above her and growled, “That’s none of your f**kin’ business, you—” But I stopped myself mid-sentence and shut the hell up. As I tipped my head back to look up at the cloudless night sky, I questioned what the point was in keeping it from her. She’d already figured this shit out, seen Axel in action. She knew she couldn’t talk—for her own protection—so why the f**k should I bother lying to her?