He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m drinking beer. Can’t mix the two.”

“Oh.” That’s when it occurs to me. “But I just took a sip of your beer before. Will—”

He places his finger to my lips, silencing me. “Aspen.”

“Yeah?” I answer, my head suddenly feeling ten times lighter than it did a moment ago.

“Just relax.”

Everything is so fuzzy—almost like I’m floating.

“Where—” I try to speak, but another wave of exhaustion sweeps over me.

Faintly, I feel someone fumbling with the zipper on my jeans.

Despite shaking my head and trying to push their hand away, they tug it down.

It’s like I’m stuck in a movie or a bad dream where everything is happening around me, but I’m utterly powerless to stop it. I don’t know what’s going on or who’s touching me.

“Dude, she’s totally trashed,” I hear someone who sounds a lot like Staci say before she laughs.

“How much did you give her?” another female voice—my guess is Traci—asks.

A flash of panic spirals through my system and I try to open my eyes, but they feel weighed down by bricks.

“I don’t know. A lot since she’s fat.”

They both share a laugh, until a male voice cuts them off, “I can’t get her jeans off. They’re too tight and the bitch keeps fighting me.”

Someone sighs.

“Well, then make her do something else,” Traci suggests.

“Like what?” the guy questions.

Another irritated sigh. “Seriously? Come on, Ken. You can’t be that dumb. I’m sure her mouth still works.”

A second later, I’m hoisted up and then shifted so my head is positioned in his lap.

“Hold on,” Staci says. “Let me press record on my phone.”

A firm hand grips the back of my neck. “You like sucking this big cock, don’t you, Aspen?”

My insides churn when I feel smooth skin followed by the ridge of his dick brush against my lips.

“Open.”

Bile surges up my throat and I gag when two thick fingers are shoved into my mouth.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Ken says as the two girls laugh.

“God, Aspen. Who knew you were such a whore?”

Nausea rolls through me in one giant wave and a rush of liquid leaves my mouth.

“What the fuck?” Ken barks.

“Ewe,” Staci squeals.

“That shit better come out,” Traci whines. “Or I swear to God, I’ll kill her.”

Ken pushes my head away. “Fuck. I can’t believe she puked all over me.”

“Well, what the hell do we do now?” Staci questions. “Should we leave her on the side of the road or something?”

“Nah. Her stepdad is an FBI agent, remember? Everyone saw her leave the party with us, so if something bad happens to her, it’s on us.”

“That’s true,” Traci agrees. “I’ll just drop her off at her house, I guess.”

Another wave of exhaustion—much stronger than before—washes over me.

I vaguely register the sound of a car door opening and the sharp thud of my body hitting something hard before everything goes black.

Chapter 13

Knox

Rain splatters against my windshield so hard it sounds like rocks hitting pavement as I pull into the driveway.

My shoulders sag as I cut the engine, a potent mixture of anger and resentment swirling through my system.

Clenching my hand into a fist, I punch the steering wheel and scream into the darkness.

“Fuck!”

I punch it again for good measure, enjoying the flicker of pain that runs up my hand and forearm.

With a grunt, I hop out of my jeep and into the pouring rain. I’m about to walk inside, but a figure lying in the street in front of the house snags my attention.

Trepidation sparks through me as I cautiously approach the body.

What the fuck…

The muscles in my chest draw tight and I freeze when I see Aspen lying there motionless, the hard rain beating down on her limp frame.

Kneeling, I grab her wrist, ignoring the surge of relief that spirals through me when I feel her pulse.

“Aspen,” I bite out, shaking her shoulders. “Wake the fuck up.”

No response.

Goddammit.

I should leave her here to teach her a lesson about going to parties and getting so loaded she passes out…but then it dawns on me that this shit isn’t like Aspen.

And she didn’t go to that party alone.

It’s only then I register the faint smell of puke wafting off her and notice the button and zipper on her jeans are undone.

It doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure out that something isn’t right.

I shake her again, harder this time. “Dammit, Stray. Wake the fuck up.”

Nothing.

Muttering a curse, I haul her into my arms. She makes a gagging sound when I stand, and I manage to push her head to the other side just in time for her to puke.

Fucking hell.

Her eyes flutter open and the confusion swirling in them quickly turns to sheer terror when she looks up and sees me.

A violent shiver wracks her body and I faintly hear her mumble, “Please, don’t kill me,” before her head lolls to the side and she passes out again.

I trek up the pathway to the house, intending to take her to her bedroom, but I find myself walking around back, entering through the side entrance that leads to the basement where I sleep.

Even though she’s still unconscious, a tremble runs through her and her teeth start chattering. If I don’t get her out of these wet clothes soon, she’ll probably get sick.

Good.

Gritting my teeth, I drop her on the floor beside my bed. Wincing, she curls her arms around her midsection, almost like she’s trying to protect herself from the boogeyman.

She looks so fucking pathetic it’s all I can do not to laugh.

“You fucking owe me,” I tell her as I yank her off the floor and put her on my bed.

Her back bows as I place her in a sitting position and work to get her top off.

“Dammit. Stay still,” I growl, realizing it’s fucking pointless because it’s not like the bitch can comprehend anything right now.