Page 61 of Shark’s Pride

Her face twisted, and a furious little huff spilled from her. As strongly as I longed to kiss her for the compassion, I ignored it. Because it resembled pity—with a bitter amount of accuracy. Ignoring her reaction was the only way I was going to finish this.

“At first, I was able to get even by just playing sneakier pranks on him,” I said. “And it was all fine. In grade school, no one even knows what that shit means, so I escaped with some dignity intact for a couple of years.” I took another fortifying breath. “But in junior high, everything changes.”

She tucked her head into a terse nod. “Yeah. It does.”

“I was becoming a young man,” I continued. “And pride was a major part of my psyche.” I averted my gaze out the window in order to vocalize more. “And Blake’s bullshit really started to sting.”

“Oh, baby.” Abbi all but sobbed it out. She stroked her hand higher on my arm, but I shrugged away from her touch.

I recoiled from her pity.

And instantly felt like shit for it.

I battled away from that moment too, consciously softening my gaze. “It still smarts, Abbigail. That probably sounds like he and I have taken the pissing contest too far, but it’s the truth. Some shit just doesn’t just go away—especially when it comes to bullies who grow up into assholes. And believe me, Blake’s become just that. In some fucked-up ways, though, I’m glad he’s gotten worse over the years. It’s validated me. Driven me.”

Her brows bunched together. “To do what?”

“To bury the motherfucker in business. No…correction. To bury him in every way I can.”

I looked away again. But why? To erase the ugliness of the admission? To undo the years of dirty play on my part as well as Viktor’s that had led to it? Worse, that Abbigail was still sitting there wanting to give me comfort and care instead of revulsion and rage?

“Stop,” I finally bit.

“Stop what?” She already knew that answer. “Bas—”

“I said stop.”

“You were a child. A child who had the weight of the whole universe piled on your tiny shoulders.” She bypassed my grunt at her adjective, continuing on. “For any person, let alone an adolescent, to have to go through what you did…” The liquid sheen in her emerald eyes drew my focus back to her expressive face. “It’s not okay.”

“I never said it was.”

“It’s just that I—well, I care about you, Sebastian.” Her gaze glittered brighter. “And it hurts my heart that someone else hurt you.”

This time when she touched my arm, I didn’t pull away. But I also didn’t shy away from the subject into which we’d dived so deeply. “Yes, I was hurt. By Viktor Blake, Abbigail. He’s the cruel son of a bitch we’re talking about right now.”

She flinched and then blinked. “I had no way of knowing you had this sort of history with him. You realize that, right?”

“Of course I do. But does it make more sense why I have such a visceral reaction at the mere mention of his name?”

“Yes,” she conceded. “Somewhat.”

“Somewhat?”

I was incredulous. Empathetic tears still threatened her stare, but she was still defending the asshole.

“You have no damn idea what that man is capable of, Abbigail. He’s a savage and has only gotten worse with age. The stories that float around this town about him would make your blood run cold.”

“Wh-What do you mean?” she blurted.

“What do you mean?” I practically bellowed the pronoun. “And why do you keep pushing for more on this? Why can’t you just take my word for it?”

“Because the man I know doesn’t seem like a ‘savage.’” She visibly squirmed, but the erotic implications I normally enjoyed from the move were far from actualizing right now. “It just seems a bit…I don’t know…” She shrugged. “Dramatic, I guess?”

“Dramatic?” I hauled in air through my nose. “Right. That’s me. Dramatic.”

“I mean, I do get the sense there isn’t something quite right about the man.” As she continued as if my snarl had been silent, I was also robbed of the chance to fume about it. She was actually making sense now. “There’s an undertone about him, you know?”

“Yeah,” I snapped, disregarding her self-dismissive wave. “I do know.” I snatched her upheld fingers and squeezed. Hard. “Go on.” I wasn’t gentle about that part either.