Page 58 of Full Throttle

“You’re being boring,” a male voice said. Nate, Dominic guessed: one of the more promising racers, and Juliette’s ex-boyfriend, if the academy rumor mill was to be believed. Although again. Not his business.

Juliette scoffed. “Sod off.”

“Come on,” Nate said. “One more.”

Juliette said something else in a low tone, and Dominic tensed. Her voice sounded off somehow. Had she been drinking? Not my business, he thought firmly, but he was already drifting closer to the door, peering through the crack. Juliette lay on a couch. The table was littered with empty beer cans and ping-pong balls. Several boys stood over her, including Nate, who was—

He stiffened.

Who was holding a bottle of vodka over her mouth.

Nate grabbed her chin. Juliette shoved him with a surprising amount of force for someone who was clearly inebriated. “Get off me.”

“Don’t worry.” Nate unscrewed the lid. “You’ll like it.”

“I’m serious.” Juliette struggled to sit. “Get away from—”

“Is there a problem here?”

Dominic hadn’t realized he was speaking until ten people turned to face him. The vodka bottle disappeared behind Nate’s back, and he felt a vicious rush of satisfaction. Good. Let him sweat.

Nate cleared his throat. “We were just…” He gestured weakly to a beer. “Did you want a drink?”

Dominic leveled him with a look. “Party’s over. Marchmont.” He gestured for her to get up. “You’re coming with me.”

Nate stepped forward. “We can look after her.” He paused, just long enough to make it condescending. “Sir.”

Dominic surveyed him. Nate was about his age, if he had to guess, which was just as well. He didn’t make a habit of fighting underage students. And if that vodka bottle went anywhere near Juliette’s mouth again…

Dominic leaned against the mantel. “You know what I got Cap for his birthday? A set of Japanese cooking knives.” He had the sense that his teammate had been pleasantly baffled by the gift, as if Dominic had presented him with a book written entirely in ancient Greek, but never mind. Not the point. “He’s a real budding chef. Of course, he doesn’t use the knives often, but if he was to discover that a group of young men had gotten his sister drunk and taken advantage of her…” Several men paled. Dominic’s smile was pleasant. “Any more objections?”

Silence filled the room.

“Good,” Dominic said breezily. “That’s what I thought.” He hoisted his gym bag, turning to Juliette. “Let’s go.”

She frowned. For a moment Dominic thought she might argue, but she surprised him by walking with what appeared to be deliberate carefulness. It was only when they were a safe distance down the corridor that Juliette spoke.

“I had that handled.”

“I know,” Dominic said, and he meant it. For someone who had ingested a healthy measure of vodka, Marchmont was surprisingly good on her feet. Good at glaring at him too.

“I’m not that drunk.”

Dominic waited for her to go up the stairs first. You just never knew, he thought, when you’d have to catch an inebriated student. “That part I’m less sure about.” He paused at the top of the landing. “Which way is your room?”

Juliette’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Not suspicious. Just wary. He sighed.

“Because I’m planning to fill it with guinea pigs.” Her expression didn’t change, and Dominic shook his head. “For god’s sake, Marchmont, because I’m walking you there.”

Juliette’s frown deepened. “I can find my way to my own—” Her face changed. “Oh, shit.”

She lunged for a flowerpot. It was only through years of reflex training, Dominic assumed, that she could reach it in time. Still. She was faster than he would have been, and that alone was enough to mildly impress him. He averted his eyes as she retched, although it didn’t bother him; you saw plenty of vomiting when you drove for two hours in blistering heat for a living.

“Feel better?” he asked politely.

Juliette wiped her mouth. “Hang on. I need to sit down.”