A tiny whimper escapes her then—quickly bitten down, but I catch it. My control nearly shatters at that sweet, desperate sound. My fingers flex against the silky skin of her upper thigh. I could drag her onto this desk right now, split her open on my cock until she cries for mercy, and she’d give it?—
Oh, she’d give it?—
“No—” she blurts, eyes wide, palms shoving at my chest. This time it’s real. I stumble back, just enough to lose her. The spell shatters and she slips past me, a quick little thing, darting out of my reach before I can snatch her back where she belongs.
Regret is instant. Hot, bitter. I should’ve locked her down, taken what I wanted. My fists curl on the desk until my knuckles ache.
She’s flushed, lips red, cardigan trembling against her body like she’s barely holding herself together. When her eyes meet mine, she tries to put the mask back on—chin high, princess composure restored. But I see it, the tremor in her hands, the way her legs still wobble when she turns.
“This conversation is over,” she says, grabbing her messenger back and skirting around me and out the door, walking up the steps.
In the doorway, she pauses, looking back at me. There’s a fire in her eyes that wasn’t there before. Her lips part like she wants to say something else, but then she clamps them shut. Without another word, she turns and disappears into the hall, the door thudding closed behind her.
I laugh. Harsh, humorless. It’s the sound of a man coming apart. This was supposed to be simple—scare her off, burn her out of my system. Instead, I’m standing here, hard as a fucking rock, every nerve screaming for what she denied me.
The chalk on the desk mocks me. I sweep my arm across it, sending papers and shards flying. But it’s not enough. The rage boils hotter. I slam my fist into the chalkboard until pain flares through my knuckles.
But the ache isn’t in my hand. It’s in my cock. It’s in my chest. It’s in the gnawing, rotting pit she’s carved out in me.
Sweet, perfect Mara. With her stubborn little chin and eyes that never fucking back down. She’s turned me feral. Obsessed. A goddamn madman.
She’s not mine. She’s not supposed to matter.
But the thought of another man touching her? Hearing that whimper I just heard?
I’ll rip their fucking throat out.
EIGHT
TALON
OCK Purge Night
We do it a couple times a year as our way of beating loyalty into each other. We get all of our aggression out in the ring so it doesn’t poison our brotherhood outside of it.
At least, that’s the idea.
One of the younger guys—a sophomore who barely kept his pledge status last year—is taking a beating from a senior member who’s built like a truck. After one good crack, the kid staggers back, blood dripping from a split eyebrow.
Around them, a loose ring of onlookers holler and cheer quietly. A few brothers exchange bets out of habit, but there’s no pot tonight. These fights aren’t for profit or bragging rights.
They’re for respect, for catharsis.
For reminding us that pain is temporary and brotherhood is forever.
I weave through a couple of guys leaning against a stack of crates, making my way closer to the action. Smoke curls from my lips as I take another drag, the orange tip of my cigarette brieflyilluminates my face. Jasper catches my eye from the shadows against the far wall. He stands with his arms crossed, back against the concrete.
He never looks particularly interested in these fights, but he’s always here. He lifts two fingers in a subtle greeting as I approach. I nod back.
Dredyn is here too, of course. Hard to miss him as he’s perched atop a keg in the corner like it’s a throne, one boot propped on a low crate, surveying the carnage. A king on his makeshift throne. Usually his eyes would be beaming with pride at his brothers showing their loyalty. But tonight, there’s a distance in his stare. He looks like he’s a million miles away. His jaw is clenched, fingers drumming impatiently on his knee.
“You spacing out, or fantasizing about your turn? Wait—never mind, could be both.”
His eyes snap into focus, narrowing on me.
There’s a low ripple of chuckles from a couple of the guys who caught my wisecrack. I see Jasper’s mouth twitch in a half smile for a split second. But Dredyn isn’t amused. He fixes me with a flat stare.
“Mind your fucking business, Talon,” he growls.
