I rub the back of my neck, trying to remember all the sensations. “Hot, like more than just from skating. My heart was slamming inside my chest. I was squeezing my stick tighter and breathing faster. Just wanted to rip that shit off him.”
“That, my friend, is jealousy.”
“You mean anger.”
He pats the center of my back. “The two are closely related. Therefore, they give off the same physical responses. Same way Merci looked like he was going to tear my head off. He was mad, but it stemmed from his jealousy.”
I sigh, staring straight ahead. If only some of this shit could be simple for me. “I don’t want to hurt him, and I hate when his eyes get watery.”
“What happened?”
“Not sure.” I stop walking this time, turning to face him, the words sticking in my throat, heavy and tangled, like trying to pull a stubborn knot apart. “He bit my lip when we kissed, and I said something about him enjoying making me bleed . . . He ran out.”
Viktor groans, running a palm down his face, then takes a deep breath. “Maybe because he actually doesn’t enjoyit. Or maybe he interpreted your words as you saying he enjoys hurting you.”
I swallow hard, my chest tightening, muscles tensing. “He makes me feel . . . things.”
“What kind of things?”
“I don’t know!” I run a hand through my hair, pulling at the strands. “That’s the problem. I can’t make sense of it. He hurt me, almost killed me. Nearly destroyed the only future I have. But then I hate it when he gets upset. And, according to you, I get jealous. And . . . “
“You also want to fuck him.”
I glare at him. “Haven’t fucked anyone since before we left for Miami. Just my goddamn hand.”
Viktor quirks a brow. “Didn’t you go to Lab—”
I grab the lapels of his coat. “Motherfucker, stop tracking me because I will pull the chip out of wherever you put it.”
He just laughs in my face. “As if I wouldn’t put it back in.”
I roll my eyes and let him go before shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. “Didn’t fuck anyone. Just let Marcus cane me.”
Viktor’s expression goes stone cold. “You’re fucking kidding, right! Zach! You can’t process . . . how bad!”
“Calm down.”
“Did your parents ever explain your issues to Merci?”
I shrug. “My father doesn’t like to advertise that shit. And if my mother walked out, he most likely kept it from Evelyn, too.”
Viktor’s about to say something when his phone chimes. He pulls it out of his pocket, his face illuminated by the screen's glow. His lips press into a thin line as he reads the message.
“Harper?”
Viktor groans, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Worse. Henneman.”
“Henneman?” The name comes out like a snarl. “Since when are you friends with him?”
“We’re all in a team chat, fuckface,” Viktor says, rolling his eyes.
“What does he want?”
His expression darkens. “Merci and Eli are at some Anti-Valentine’s Day frat party. And a little drunk.”
My fingers clench into fists. “Let’s go.”
“Oh, and Alexei’s on his way. He was going to surprise Eli, so shit’s going to hit the fan.”
