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)
I have no interest in Rayne.
But driving him insane almost feels as good as it would feel to fight him.
Psychological warfare hurts so good.
“Your ex touch you like this?” I ask him. I rock my hips forward a little, pushing my cock up against his thigh. “Or was he too busy cheating on you?”
“Mention my ex again and you’re going to be unconscious, Knox.”
“Wish you would try.”
“And that’s why you’re psychotic.”
“And you’re too obsessed with following the rules, so you can graduate with a pristine record. You want to secure a job that gives you the fat stacks of cash you deserve. Is that right?”
I press a tiny little kiss to the side of his hair, just because I think it’ll piss him off.
His hair smells good.
Probably also some fancy shampoo my brother bought him.
“Quit acting like you know me,” he says. “And if you’re going to pretend you’re gay, at least pay a little attention to my cock. It would be nice to feel something before I turn around and punch you.”
I push my fingertips a little underneath his waistband, but I don’t go anywhere near his cock.
He suddenly moves to try to break away from me, but as usual, I’m faster.
I hold him tightly and firmly on his waist, keeping him planted here.
And then I use my forearm to make a bar across his throat.
“I told you. I know you won’t really fight me,” I tell him. “That’s why I can do whatever I want to you.”
He hisses as I give his waist a little pinch. “And all of it will be idle threats, I assume?”
“Let’s play a game. I have one knife in my front pocket, another in my back pocket, and a third somewhere else. Want to use your hands and find out where?”
“You’re right. My ex didn’t touch me like this. You seem even more into me than he was, Hunter.”
I pull away from him suddenly.
I take away all of the physical contact at once.
Leaving him high and dry.
Punishing him for whatever bullshit he just told me and reminding him that I’m in control.
“You owe me,” I tell him as I smooth out the front of my shirt.
His bulge is obvious even in the low light.
He reaches down and rearranges his package, shoving his own shirt back into his waistband afterward, looking flustered enough that I almost want to touch him again.
“I should never have kissed you,” he says. “Made Mikael eat shit like he deserves, but it’s not going to happen again, Knox.”
“Not exactly the kind of kiss I’ll easily forget. You miss the part where I said I’m straight, Colson?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Your cock felt pretty hard for someone who’s straight.”
The rage inside me is as familiar.
As familiar as the air in my lungs.
As familiar as my fingers twitching over the knife in my pocket.
“I’ll decide how you can repay me later.”
“Bro,” he protests, a sudden anger in his eyes. “Forget it happened. And don’t fucking talk to me again.”
“You’re the one who kissed me,” I say. “Bro.”
He’s barely looking at me now.
And he’s gone a moment later.
I watch him take off across the room, disappearing into the crowd.
Over the next half hour, I don’t run into my brother. Thank the fucking gods above. For all I know, Weston is trying to avoid me, too, and I’m happy to keep it that way.
I do learn some interesting gossip, though.
I hear a few society members talking about the attack that happened last night. The former Onyx member was strangled and shot.
Their ignorance is clear.
They say the guy survived a gunshot through the brain, but I know that’s extremely unlikely.
The bullet most likely didn’t even penetrate his skull.
I overhear a couple of people asking where Royal is, too, and I realize that it’s their nickname for Rayne.
Very cute.
Make his ego the size of a fucking continent, why don’t you?
Can somebody shoot me in the fucking head now, too?
An hour later, I’ve had enough.
I head up the dark wooden staircase, making my way through the long hallway lined with black-and-white pictures of Crimson College.
I swing open the door of Rayne’s bedroom.
Our bedroom now.
When I step inside he pushes himself up on his elbows in bed. He’s shirtless, and the only light in the room is moonlight coming in through the diamond-shaped panes of the window.
I’m surprised to see something I never expected on Rayne: two tattoos, in black linework.
Beautiful wings at each end of his collarbone.
I used to draw and paint all the time. I can recognize good art when I see it. I let my eyes rake over his chest, not trying to hide that I’m looking.
“That ink looks good on your skin.”
“Fuck off.”
“Can’t accept a compliment? Just another trait you share with my brother.”
“I won’t accept compliments from you, because I know you’re not sincere.”