Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
They smile at me, all of them clearly drunk.
“Colson,” one of the guys says, reaching out to fist bump me when I get near.
I head inside the house, and walking in and seeing everyone dancing and so carefree just makes me angrier.
After a few minutes I go out onto the front porch alone.
I have no idea where Hunter is. Probably still out in the gazebo alone, too, trying to think of ways to convince me I shouldn’t want him.
And that thought pisses me off more than any other.
No.
Hunter isn’t going to push me away.
That’s what he does.
He tries to hold a middle finger to the entire goddamned world, but I know there’s something more that he feels for me.
He has to feel this, too.
I loop around the side of the house, taking the stone pathway that leads back around to the backyard.
But as I loop under a cluster of trees, I realize that the three Double Daggers guys are still on the back patio.
And they’re talking about me.
24
Hunter
I was fourteen when I first heard the phrase “love is like a drug.”
But I always knew that violence is a drug, too.
I chased the easier one.
You can’t make someone love you, but you can always make them fight.
A fist on a face. A knife at a throat. Even a comment, said at the right time, will get you violence on demand.
Love? Love was impossible.
I’d never known it, anyway.
A mom who abandoned us when we were toddlers, a father without a soul. A brother who treated me like I was unwelcome, and a sister who loved me and then bled out in front of my eyes.
I vowed that if anyone ever deluded themselves into loving me again…
I’d make sure they knew their mistake.
I’d burn it before it had a chance to grow.
Then Rayne Colson walked straight into the flames.
This gazebo felt like a palace when I was in here with Rayne.
Now it feels like a jail cell.
I’ve been pacing the small, sheltered space for many minutes now, unseen by the group of guys smoking outside near the house.
I don’t want to leave.
But I also feel a tether pulling me toward Rayne, like a strong magnet beckoning me away.
Go to him.
Just fucking go to him, like you know you want to.
But those brown eyes have a pull on me now that’s way too fucking dangerous.
As I pace back toward the edge of the gazebo, I realize the Daggers guys outside aren’t talking about the party anymore.
They’re talking about Rayne.
My ears perk up immediately, and I stand still.
“Think he was out there with that new guy,” one of them is saying.
Whatever this conversation is, it isn’t good.
“Think they’re fucking?”
“No. I don’t think Hunter Knox would touch Colson.”
Two of them snicker.
And suddenly, I find the first relief from the chaotic mess of my own thoughts.
Because one feeling shines out over all of the others, in a snap.
Clear, focused rage.
“Rayne only got into Crimson because Weston made it happen, right? There’s no way a guy like that gets accepted otherwise.”
“Scholarship case, all the way,” another guy says. “They wanted to make the poor little poor guy feel like he has a chance in life.”
It’s all I need to finally snap.
I come down out of the gazebo, my shoes crunching in the snow on the lawn. I don’t need to hear another word. I don’t know who these guys are, and I don’t fucking care, either.
Finally, I have a goddamn purpose tonight.
And I’m about to claim that purpose, right here and now.
My hand is already feeling for the knife in my pocket when the guys turn and see me as I’m walking over.
I haven’t felt this clear in a long time.
The way everything falls in place when I have a reason to fight.
I see a flash of movement from the other side of the yard and someone comes out from behind the trees.
My heart drops when I see that it’s Rayne.
No.
Don’t be here.
Not for this.
“Hunter, stop.”
I don’t know if he heard what the guys said about him, but there’s nothing that is going to stop me now.
I get to the group before Rayne does.
And the tall guy at the center of the group who called Rayne a “scholarship case?”
He doesn’t know how lucky he’s about to be.
He’s lucky because I decide to leave my knife in my pocket. Heat flashes through my body as I close the distance between us, going in fast.
My knuckles hit his skin before he can even react.
The flash of pain is sudden, like an old friend.
The punch I land on the side of his face is merciful.
My fist connects with his cheek and upper jaw, and I catch him off guard so badly that he stumbles backward, his back hitting the big grill behind him.
“The fuck, man?” one of the other guys says.
Right as I land the second punch.