"Jesus fucking Christ, that's hot," Damon groans as he pushes his willing victim off his lap, and adjusts the massive hard-on tenting his pants. My eyes meet Cross's, and then River's, and in both of their glances, I see hunger and rage.
They think I'm going to be some basic, petty bitch and fight another girl over them in jealousy. Naw, I don't deal in that shit, I'm not out here bringing women down. I'm all about uplifting, not tearing down. Those three want to play games with me, but I'm not some weak bitch who's easily swayed bygood dick.I'm mature and honest enough to admit all three of them have fantastic cocks, and seem to know how to use them, and that they're sexy as fuck, but that's the thing, they use their exterior to snare you, while their insides are filled with poisonous, ugly rot.
I blow poor dazed Ava, who's still attempting to catch her breath, a kiss, and then give all three of those assholes my middle fingers. The crowd is silent, as if they're waiting for violence to break out, or are unsure of how to react. I turn my back purposely on Mayhem, showing them I'm not afraid of them in the slightest, and walk toward the door of the cafe, no longer interested in my coffee craving.
A smirk crosses my face, as the sunlight greets my skin with warmth. It looks like I just stole their bitch.Take that, Mayhem.
CHAPTER 43
DAMON
I'm still grinning, after my unhinged princess basically handed us our asses, and made us look like utter fools in front of a crowd of sycophants. Cross lost his shit completely when Ava turned on her heels, still looking dazed, confused, and aroused from Olivia's passionate five-alarm kiss, and walked away from us without a further word. It's safe to say, she won't be going head-to-head against my little monster over us any time soon. I watched Cross pick up a cafe chair and throw it against a wall, sending students fleeing for their lives. The chaos feels almost tangible, and it brings me to life, all the fear, energy, and anger; it's an aphrodisiac warming my dark soul.
At least half an hour has to have passed, yet Cross is no closer to calming the fuck down. He's broken a bunch of shit here in the cafe. At one point, campus security came in to investigate the disturbance, but the minute they saw us, they hightailed their asses back out the door. No one messes with Mayhem; they know who truly controls this campus and town. I give River a questioning look, noticing his quiet, lost expression. He's been in his own dark thoughts since Ava walked out, and has only been responding in mumbled one-word answers to Cross's sharpmusings. Is he regretting what he just said and did to Olivia? He's got to know that she's not the forgiving type, and he just blew any chance he had with her. No, my unhinged princess will hold on to that slight, and make him pay in blood. It almost makes me giddy to think about the violence she's capable of unleashing.
"How?" Cross demands, his hands clenched at his sides as he takes deep breaths, and the angry vein in his neck spasms. I watch with a sense of amusement and dread as one of my shadows strokes their wispy fingers tenderly down his back, trying to help soothe him. I bet he'd lose his shit some more if he could see them too. I bite down on my tongue to prevent calling out to it, and demanding that it leave him alone. Fuck, I should have smoked something before I came to school today, regardless of Cross's unreasonable demand that I be sober. Fuck him, he has no idea how hard my reality is.
"How what?" River croaks, pushing back a chair and taking a seat next to me, his legs widening and his thigh pressing up against mine, as if he craves the contact. His glance briefly meets mine, and I see how lost he is. Before I can think clearly, I reach out and grab his thigh, squeezing, feeling the weight of the moment. He responds by pressing my hand down to his thigh and holding it there when I try to withdraw it, creating a charged silence between us, and warmth to radiate down my chest.
"How does she keep winning against us?" Cross demands as he turns to stare at us, and his glance narrows in on our intimate connection. A flicker of hurt slides across his expression, before he throws up the mask he always wears when he doesn't want anyone to know what he's thinking.
"You keep underestimating her. Olivia Springhill is not like other women. She’s not like anyone we've ever had to deal with. She doesn't seem to have anything to lose, and violence and threats won't work on her," I reply with aggravation. Yeah, I'mpissed at what happened here too, but I'm also exhausted from playing these tiresome games. If he really wants to hurt her, we should just do it, but my shadows confirm my thoughts that he doesn't. He's just acting like an irrational, spoiled shit, because she won't cave and fall at his feet. The reality is, if she did that, he'd be instantly bored with her. There's no point in stating the obvious when he's determined to be stubborn, and that's the one thing I loathe about him. It's a trait he picked up from his father, and it's a dangerous one to have in our world.
"Everyone has something to lose, even Livy. We just have to discover what it is. She seems to care for Melfort, so maybe we can use that against her to bring her to heel." River groans, his other hand rubbing at the back of his neck to release some of the tension. I notice he doesn't let go of my hand, though, and that brings me immense pleasure. At the mention of Sim's name, Cross throws another chair and this time, it goes crashing into the buffet, splattering spaghetti sauce across the floor and walls, painting them red.So much for calming down.
"I want him fucking dead," he growls, dragging his tattooed hands through his messy, dark blond hair, and River and I share an apprehensive glance. Yeah, Sim is a bit of a cunt, and he absolutely deserves a massive beating, maybe even to have some part of his body damaged permanently so he can't fight anymore, in retribution for his disloyalty. Still, death is a bit of a stretch. His fucking Olivia doesn’t warrant that, and Cross knows that.
"Hear me out... what if we use Melfort instead as a way of controlling her? River's right, she cares for Sim. We can use that to our advantage. It's a way to put a collar around her neck. We grab him and hold him to ensure she plays nicely. No one's gonna miss that fucker, he doesn't have any real family, and if by chance he gets a little banged up in the process, and maybe isn'table to fight anymore, well... that's all par for the course, isn't it?" I demand, looking back and forth between them.
"You should stay sober more often, Damon. You're making a lot of fucking sense." Cross grins with malice. "You're right, he's the key, the only chess piece we have available to us at the moment. We use him to make her crawl, and when we have her finally broken, we dispose of him permanently."
That's not what I meant, and Cross knows it. He's just purposely twisting my words to fit with his personal agenda. He's jealous of Sim and his connection to my little monster. I don't hate Melfort. Other than this shit with Olivia, I've had little interaction with him, besides watching him fight in the underground ring. Do I want to see him dead?No.Will that ultimately matter if Cross does?Also no.I know my place in our trio, I'm the boogeyman, the killer. I clean up the messes, and cause the populace to fear Mayhem. Do I wish that could change? I've never given it much thought before Olivia Sprighill showed up. I'm still not sure what I want, other than to have her asmine, asours. I guess that will have to be enough for now, and if Sim has to be the sacrificial lamb in the meantime, well, that's his lot in life, I guess. At least he got to taste heaven with Olivia before he painfully dies.
"Find Sim Melfort and bring him to the warehouse, by any means necessary, but don't kill him, Damon," Cross orders, as he kicks debris out of his way toward the cafe door.
"Where the hell are you going?" I question with confusion, as River rises to follow Cross out like an obedient shadow. The loss of the heat of his hand on mine feels desolate and miserable. I needed a little longer with him. I needed to take him somewhere, just him and me, so I could focus my thoughts, and regain a little more of my sanity, before the shadows and voices once again overwhelm me, and make me desperate for violence to appease them.
"Olivia Springhill has secrets. She didn't come to Soule just at her mom's behest. We’re missing something, something important we can use to dangle around her neck and choke her, and I mean to find out what that is. It's time to take the gloves off and treat my sister like an enemy."
Fuck, what am I going to do if I have to choose between Cross's psychotic need to destroy my little monster, and my need to keep her for myself? Do I have it in me to betray my best friend and brother for her?
You'll do what you need to. She belongs to us, and no one, not even him, can take her away from us,the shadows screech, filled with malignant energy, at his retreating back.
CHAPTER 44
SIM
Istep into my loft, and a sensation of helplessness, and crushing weight, hits me so hard it almost knocks the breath out of my chest. I despise the feeling; it’s foreign, and it makes me feel small, because it reminds me I’m losing control of something I never meant to let slip through my fingers, or into my heart. The sensation hollows me out from the inside, scraping bone, carving me into pieces, and making me weak.
My eyes are instantly drawn to the dark, heavy, velvet curtains separating my living space from my bedroom. They’re just fabric, just decoration, but my mind betrays me, conjuring the image of a sexy Olly, naked and tangled in my sheets, soft panting breaths against my pillow as her purple hair fans out below her, the imprint of her body warming the mattress.
God, I don’t want to be here without her anymore. That realization is not only unhinged, but genuinely terrifying. This small loft has always been my sanctuary, my controlled environment, my goddamn peace, in a world that tests my resolve daily. The place I could shut out the noise of the world, and my own uglier impulses, and think with clarity. Now the air feels stale, and the place I love feels wrong, empty, and cold.Light pours in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, bright and expansive, but somehow the place is dimmer than it’s ever been. It's as if it's been stripped of its purpose and warmth, and only an empty shadow of it remains. No, that's not it; it's because it's been stripped of her. Without Olly here, it’s as if the whole place has lost its soul, or maybe it’s just me losing mine to her, piece by piece, every time I let myself think of her.
"Fuck, this is crazy," I drag my hand through my hair violently, as the words wring out of me, rough and uneven, swallowed immediately by the empty loft. The sound barely echoes, as if even the walls are tired of hearing me unravel, and are calling me out for my madness. My legs force me of their own accord into my bedroom, and I reach for one of my pillows on my unmade bed, bringing it up to my nose with the pathetic hope of smelling her scent still on it. I haven't been able to bring myself to even change the sheets since I fucked her on them, like some lovesick sap that can't let go. I'm a man frozen in the aftermath, afraid that washing the linens will wipe away the only proof she was ever mine for a moment.When did I become this pathetic?
I drag a heavy hand through my hair again with visceral frustration, tugging at the roots because I need the sting, I need something to ground me from my rambling thoughts, but it doesn’t help, fuck, nothing does anymore. The profound truth staring me right in the face is that I'm now a fool, who's clinging to a girl who has no idea the wreckage she’s left behind in her wake, and may not even want me.
I replay everything that's happened, in the hours since I went searching for her on campus, to breaking down her door, and sleeping next to her in her bed. It feels like so much in such a short period of time. I sit myself down on the edge of my bed, my head hanging low with the realization that after everything last night, and this morning, with Olly and Mayhem, my fightingcareer is toast in Soule, and I won't be able to support myself for long. Shit, I'll be lucky if those three miscreants don't try to run me out of town by the end of the week. I've sabotaged myself for a woman that I barely know, who's filled with secrets she doesn't trust me with, and who just confessed this morning, after all that shit with her malevolent stepfather went down, and we were parting ways, that she willingly slept with River Brackley. It was a slap in the face, and had me grasping at straws at what to say to her. No matter how many times I claim her, she doesn’t claim me back. Am I prepared to have to share her with other men? I’ve never had the inclination to do that before with anyone.
