I can barely see her through the tears pouring out of my eyes. “Who?” I ask. “Father?”
“It’ll get worse before it gets better, but he’s coming. Trust me.”
I’m in my bed—body shaking and drenched with sweat. I can barely catch my breath. I sit up and try to calm down, focusing on the world around me.Is this real? Am I still dreaming?
The world is silent. There’s no song. I hear nothing.
My hand reaches for the glass of water beside me, but the drink does nothing to calm me down.
I need air.
I walk across the room to my window and slide it open, taking a deep breath of the cool, night air.
A motorcycle engine revs, and I open my eyes to see a man in a leather coat and helmet parked just before the gate of the mansion speed off down the road.
My chest tightens.
I know that bike.
Chapter 21
Torren
There’s nothing I hate more than team spirit, so sitting at the Collegiate homecoming football game is the last thing I’d ever want to do—the dude three people down swings his corny Lacoste polo above his head.Condorsis painted on his naked torso in Collegiate’s school colors, burgundy and white, and anytime the team does a damned thing, the fools surrounding me flap their arms and caw. Which is completely idiotic because Condors don’t fucking caw. They don’t have a syrinx! At best, all they can do is hiss.
So much for that private education.
TheCondor’squarterback hurls the ball 20 yards, landing in the arms of their wide receiver, and the crowd erupts. The waste of flesh next to me throws his bucket of popcorn in the air, and it all cascades onto me like buttery hail.
He looks at me and holds his hand up, waiting for a high five, but my death stare tells him that I’m five seconds away from snapping that hand clean off his wrist.
He quickly turns away, searching for someone else to celebrate with.
Idiots.
I bring the binoculars to my eyes and zero in on Felix, sitting next to his father. They’re seated in the front row at the curvature of the stadium, giving me a perfect view of his pretty face. This game was on the list of events that Lars sent me, and, despite my hatred for organized sports, I can’t stay away.
His father cheers, and Felix shoots him a look before rolling his eyes. That tiny glimmer of sass makes my lips curve into a smile. It’s the first time I’ve seen his trademark brattiness since I started following him, and it makes my heart swell.
I could look at Felix for hours—his chiseled features, gorgeous hair, and green eyes…
Some guys are handsome, others are hot, and far too many are just ordinary.
But Felix is beautiful.
Stop. You ruined all that at theKitty Cat Club.
I adjust the collar of my jacket, hoping the movement will help shake the lust off me. I’m not here to swoon, I’m here to make sure he’s okay.
I bring the binoculars back to my eyes and almost choke when I see the look on Felix’s face. He stares motionless, looking forward, his eyes red at the base. The steady rise and fall of his chest puts me on high alert. I adjust the binoculars to get a closer look at him.
That’s when I see it.
Some guy a few rows back tosses a chip at his head. It makes contact and lands on Felix’s shoulder. He closes his eyes, bites his lower lip, and brushes it off.
Hell. No.
I rise from my seat and march down the bleacher stairs,making my way through the exit and into the outer area where the concession stands are.
