“It’s been months since I didn’t care for sex in general, whether with men or women. They were all getting repetitive, bland, and painfully dull.”
“Until you found me,” she whispers.
“Until I found you. On the top of that cliff, you looked so innocent and naive, I wanted to tarnish you in some way, ruin that apparent innocence and see what was behind it.”
“Aren’t you the romantic one?”
“You think?”
“I give up.” She releases a sigh. “I obviously can’t win with you.”
If only she knew how wrong that statement is. It’s more like I haven’t been able to win ever since she came into my life.
My fingers thread in her hair and she closes her eyes, not wanting to enjoy the strokes, but doing so anyway.
“You don’t smoke anymore,” she announces out of the blue.
“I said I’d quit if you’d keep my lips and hands occupied, and I keep my word, baby.”
“You…really quit because of me?”
“Sure did. Second-hand smoke is a serious threat to your health.”
“You’re more of a serious threat to my health.”
“Too bad you can’t quit me.”
“You never know. Maybe one day I’ll find a better man.”
“I’m the only man you’ll have, so get used to it and stop provoking me.” I stroke her hair. “Go to sleep, little rabbit. We have about seven hours to land.”
One more reason why I don’t go home.
I expect her to fight, but she bends her legs so they’re on my lap and rests her head on my chest.
It’s one of the few times she’s let go without starting drama about being in my company. She says that she wants more, but how can she not see that I’ve been fighting more battles than I signed up for ever since she came along?
“It’s unfair that you feel so safe,” she grumbles as her body relaxes in my hold, and her breaths even out as she falls into a slumber. My nose strokes her hair, breathing in the raspberries mixed with alcohol and I also let myself fall asleep.
Because she feels safe, too.
* * *
The echoof voices swirls around my head like the buzzing of bees.
“Jesus Christ, Glyndon. That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”
My eyes fly open and the first thing I notice is that the weight on top of me is gone and I’m hugging a pillow instead.
Real smooth.
That little rabbit must’ve put the pillow there so I wouldn’t feel the emptiness and wake up right away.
But that’s not the emergency here. It’s Gareth groaning while calling Glyndon’s name.
I lift my head and I have no fucking clue what to name the fucking feeling when I find them sitting around a table a few seats ahead, playing fucking Uno.
But I know it’s too similar to damn relief.
This isn’t even funny anymore. I’m constantly on the edge of murder because of this woman, and the worst part is that she’s the one who’s stopping my demons from acting out.
The screen over my seat indicates that we have about three more hours to land.
“You didn’t tell me about this rule before.” She clutches the cards close to her chest. “You can’t just invent new ones.”
“I’m not inventing.” He shows her the rules card. “It’s right here.”
“Uh, how about a no? You’re cheating!”
“Because you’re losing?”
“I could totally win if you didn’t start inventing rules left and right.”
“For the millionth time, they’re right here. Just admit defeat and move on. Where’s your sports spirit?”
“Not in the building. Sorry, I mean freaking plane. Come on, just roll with it, would you?”
He smiles, and I clench my fists, and it’s due to a lot of reasons. The first is that I thought he’d forgotten how to actually smile without faking it.
Oh, and how fucking comfortable Glyndon is in his presence.
He of all people must’ve realized that she’s my weakness now, the spot he can hit to get to me, and knowing Gareth, he will. Without mercy.
Not that I blame him, but I would impale him before he could even lay a finger on her.
Forcing my agitation down, I walk toward them with the nonchalance of a bored demon.
I sit on Glyndon’s armrest and plant a hand on her shoulder. “What are we playing?”
Gareth starts to lower his cards. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”
That’s right, big bro. Take a fucking hike.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” she tells him. “You don’t need to leave just because Killian is here. Let’s continue.”
This little—
“And you go sit on a chair and don’t spy on my cards.” She hides them against her chest, glaring up at me like a mama bear.
Hmm. Now, I’m wondering why I didn’t strap her to me earlier.
Gareth keeps his cards, and I have no choice but to take the seat next to Glyn, because I’m sure as fuck going to play and beat these two.
They end up ganging up on me, cheating and using every trick under the sun to make me lose.
But I’m the founder of the ethically black school they tried to enroll in, so I end up winning anyway. Three times in a row.
Glyndon throws her cards on the small table. “Ugh, this is no fun. Do you have to win every round?”
“How else would he be a dickhead?”
“Don’t be sore losers, doesn’t look nice.” I grin.
“Oh, screw you.” She releases a breath. “We should play a round just the two of us, Gareth.”
“Request denied,” I say.
“Well, you just keep winning. The game becomes boring that way.”
“Never mind him. Killer just doesn’t physically recognize the term holding back, especially when he’s jealous. This is him being territorial to prove a point.”
“I’m going to kill you,” I mouth, and he just smiles, a fake-ass one.
“Seriously?” Glyndon glares at me. “You’re being a complete bloody wanker for some baseless jealousy?”
“We’ll see how baseless it is when my dear big bro is floating in the air.”
“Stop threatening people’s lives just because you can, Killian. And this is your brother, so how about you treat him as such instead of like some enemy?” She points a finger at me. “Also, either you play normally or you’ll lose all privileges to ever play with us.”
I consider whether I want to kiss the fuck out of her or choke her right now. Probably both at the same time.
Gareth raises a brow. “Looks like you’ve finally met your match. Mom and Dad will love her.”
“Are you sure?” Glyndon gathers the cards, her tone awkward. “He didn’t tell me beforehand, so I couldn’t even change into appropriate clothes.”
“What’s wrong with your current clothes?” I steal a switch card, because no, I’m definitely not letting them win anytime soon.
“You don’t get opinion rights.” She makes a face, then grabs my hand, reaches under my sleeve, and snatches back the card I stole. “And no cheating. Seriously, can’t you take a chill pill?”
“I do, when I’m fucking your brains out. Wanna go to the bathroom?”
“Too much information,” Gareth says.
“You can always leave, and go back to your nerdy activities.”
“No and no, and did I mention no?” Glyndon says in a mocking voice even though her neck is red. “Now, let’s play.”
Gareth manages to win once, only because Glyndon actually searched my pants for the stolen cards.
To say she’s become bold is an understatement. And it’s definitely not because I’m taking it easy on her.
She’s just growing more into herself and into this wrecking force that’s coming after my life.
By the time we prepare to land, she manages to win and rubs it in our faces and gloats until we think she’ll do it till kingdom come.
“Feels good to be a winner.” She fastens her seatbelt at the flight attendant’s call.
I tighten it further around her waist. “You actually won the least between the three of us and only because you stole more cards than we could.”
“I’m sorry, what? I can’t hear you over the victory fireworks in my head.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Stop being adorable before I fuck you right here, right now.”
“Don’t do that,” she whisper-yells. “Ugh. I can’t stop remembering that many airplane crashes happened while trying to land.”
“Then I guess you should hold my hand, hmm?” I offer her my palm and she takes it, threading her fingers through mine and tucking it in her lap.
Full-blown satisfaction fills my system at the thought of being her anchor.
It isn’t some Prince Charming, a boring type, or another man.
Me.
The feeling of complete euphoria slowly dulls down with the reminder of where we’re going.
Fucking home.
* * *
It’sstrange how the mind categorizes events and shoves them into boxes of archives. Some are forgotten after a day or a week.
Others stay there forever. In fact, they slip into subconsciousness and make sure they’re never forgotten.
My family home on the outskirts of New York City is a modern mansion that could tick the dream house checklist of most Americans. It even has the white fence cliché my mother probably dreamt of when she was young.
It’s huge, personalized to the smallest detail, and fit to be the home of Asher and Reina Carson. As in, the American king and queen who instantly become the talk of every media outlet the moment they’re in public.
In this house, I’ve had everything people would consider happy memories. A loving mother, a present father—more than need be—birthday parties, running around like headless chickens with Gareth, Nikolai, Mia, and Maya.
And my awakening by hunting and killing those mice.
People tend to romanticize the past, I don’t. Because those memories? They’re nothing more than yellowed pages in an old forgotten book.
The only thing I remember from this house is Mom’s terrified expression, Dad’s frown, and eventually his ‘we shouldn’t have had Killian’ and ‘he’s defective’ words.
Leaving for college was the best thing that ever happened to me. I needed to stay out of Dad’s orbit, away from the constant ticking bomb that goes off in my head whenever he’s in sight.
So the last place I want to be in is his house.