“I swear on my lordship’s name that I’m revoking parental rights. Go look for someone else to translate your thoughts without you having to speak.”
“Hmph. I can do that just fine.” Cecily lifts her nose into the air. “Creigh and I volunteer at the same shelter and I always talk to the other staff on his behalf.”
What started as a decision on the spur of the moment has become part of my schedule now.
At first, I only went to that shelter to learn more about the doll-like girl who’s actually a mafia princess but has not one criminal trait in her bones.
The girl treats animals like a mother would treat her baby, for fuck’s sake.
Then I noticed that the more I showed up, the more annoyed she became. And I like getting on her last nerve, catching her glaring at me, or watching me with that puzzled expression.
Besides, many students started volunteering at the shelter soon after I joined. Cecily said it’s because of me and that I should stay.
Who am I to say no to such a great cause?
It’s been almost a week, and I’ve been going there every single day, deliberately sacrificing my sleeping time.
“Spawn! You have it in you to betray me with this me wannabe? You can try for an eternity to dress like me, walk, talk and act like me. You might be the next best thing, but not quite me.”
“Wait. Isn’t that Eminem?” Ava asks.
“Point is, I’m wounded, spawn,” he says in his overdramatic voice. “And here I thought I was your favorite. Now I need to go find me another spawn who’s willing to follow my lordship’s teachings. I’ll take candidates starting now. No pushing, I can’t accept everyone.”
No one comes forward and he laughs. “Don’t be shy. I know I’m intimidating, but I can be cool as fuck.”
Annika inches forward and opens her mouth. There’s a tidbit I’ve learned about her during the time we’ve spent together in this unholy group. She doesn’t like seeing anyone in a vulnerable state and is always game to sacrifice herself for it.
Either that or she’s seriously considering Remi for the position of her fake prick.
I’m not ready to find out which it is. Before any words come out, I say, “You already have me. Why would you look for someone else?”
“Right!” He points at me with a laugh. “I knew I was still your favorite and no attempts from the crazy cougars will be able to tear us apart. Hear that, nerd? You mean nothing.”
“And you think you do?” Cecily throws right back.
Ava holds out both hands. “Time out! Ces, don’t you think we have something more important to discuss, especially now that everyone is here?”
“Oh, right, of course.” Cecily sits beside Annika and Ava takes the other side. “We’re gathered here today for an important reason that’s a bit more pressing than choking the life out of Remi. Our friend, Anni, needs someone to pretend to be her boyfriend for enough time to convince her family not to arrange a marriage for her. Who’s up for it?”
Annika stares at me with wide eyes and I narrow mine. I specifically told her to erase this idea out of her head, and by association, out of Cecily’s and Ava’s heads.
“No funny business in the fake dating.” Ava points a finger at my cousin. “I’m talking about you, Remi.”
“Define funny business, love.” He grins mischievously, and I can feel that tension rising in my compressed throat.
The darkness shimmers from the background, threatening to devour everything in its wake.
“No, you’re out,” Cecily tells Remi. “Like, totally out.”
“Why the hell are you the one who decides that? It should be Anni! From the potential candidates present, I’m the most handsome, duh, and would make the best boyfriend material.”
“Your arrogance is astounding.”
“Thanks, my lady.”
“That wasn’t a compliment, Remi.”
“Whatever. All I’m saying is that the girl of the hour should choose. Out of everyone present, who do you want to be your fake boyfriend, Anni?”
Her eyes meet mine again, bright, so fucking bright that it’s blinding. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, chewing, biting, waiting.
My jaw tightens as other images fill my mind. All of them start with her trapped beneath me with no way out.
There won’t be any nibbling or chewing. There’ll be slapping, throwing, choking, flogging, gagging, fucking, fucking, and more fucking until I tear her tiny little cunt.
Christ.
The fuck is wrong with me lately?
She releases her lip, all red and plump from how much she bit on it. “If he’s willing to help, and it’s in no way an obligation, of course, but if I had to choose, it’d be Brandon.”
My fist tightens on the fork and I’m surprised it doesn’t snap in two from the ferocity of my grip. My jaw flexes and my muscles stiffen until I’m no different than a rock.
The only thing stopping me from hauling her onto my lap right at this moment is the knowledge that I would break her skin. No doubt about it.
The clever little minx avoids my gaze completely, knowing full well that she fucked up.
But she doesn’t know to what extent.
Annika just unleashed the last bit of control I’ve been conjuring for weeks.
My soul craves the darkness and that’s exactly what I’ll give it.
“I’m sorry to say this, but you have a terrible taste in men, Anni.” Remi flips his hair back. “But then again, my lordship was never meant for fake anything.”
“I’m honored you chose me.” Bran smiles. “I’d be happy to help—”
He’s cut off when I stand up abruptly. This time, Annika looks at me with terrified eyes.
The right eyes.
I don’t say a word as I turn around and leave.
She can have her fun all she wants—or think she is.
It won’t matter one bit once I have her at my mercy.
One thing’s for certain. I’ll keep my promise.
Annika Volkov’s pain will be mine.
8
ANNIKA
I’m losing it.
My pulse quickens, my ears prickle, and my limbs shake at the faintest sound.
It’s been this way since last night.
Ever since Creighton looked at me with that frightening heat, metaphorically stripped me, and then stood and left.
But not before he issued that warning with a mere gaze.
It’s crazy how expressive his eyes can get when he puts in the effort. In a fraction of a second, they’ll morph from blank and absolutely indifferent to scorching lava.
I kept tossing and turning in bed last night, staring at the window and the door. For some reason, I thought he’d ambush at night, when the world sleeps and he’s camouflaged by the darkness.
Like the night he committed arson in my brother’s house.
The anticipation kept me awake, tossing and turning in bed with my heart pulsing in my throat.
I refuse to address or put a name to the feeling that’s been sinking in my stomach since this morning.
After school, I go to the shelter with Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake blasting in my ear. It takes an inhuman effort to stop myself from dancing in sync with the music.
It’s quiet today, with dejection floating in the air because their resident ‘Hot Stuff’ didn’t show up. Yes, we have more volunteers, thanks to him, but it’s inconvenient when their entire work ethic is centered on his presence—or lack thereof. Oh, and his six-pack. Harry started a whole group chat where they share half-naked pictures of him and bicker over who’s going to worship his ‘huge dick’ first. Seriously, not one of them has seen his dick, so that’s a total overstatement.
In no time, he has a fan club, fanatics, and antis—the latter being only me at the moment. I’m just in that group to grasp hold of the situation, nothing more.
And he does get half naked a lot. If I didn’t know he was aloof to a fault, I would swear he’s doing it on purpose.
If it were up to me, I’d kick him out of the shelter so that we can get our peaceful atmosphere back. However, if I do voice that thought, I’ll be stoned to death by the fanatics.
Even Dr. Stephanie appreciates all the helping hands.
I play with Tiger for a bit, exchange some small talk with the other volunteers, and then I get busy list-checking the stock in the storage room.
Since no one usually comes in here, I put my Tchaikovsky on speaker and twirl as I move from one aisle to the other.
My feet tingle and burst with inexplicable energy. I’ve always loved dancing, to the point that Mom had no choice but to teach me and enroll me in ballet classes when I was four years old.
Sometimes, it feels like I’m putting that talent to waste by choosing to go to college. Other times, I remember that I love ballet for ballet, for moments like these where it allows me to purge negative energy. It’s not for stardom or for people to watch me.
Yes, I’m a people person, but not in that sense.
As the music reaches a crescendo, I open my arms and twirl on pointe across the aisle.
Then, in that moment of excitement, I slam into a wall.
No, not a physical wall—a wall of muscle.
The music starts a slow descent, completely at odds with the chaos brewing inside me.
A merciless hand grabs my elbow to stop me from toppling over. I stare up at his ethereally gorgeous face, at the lips that rest in a line, completely devoid of emotion.
He’s a cold god whose only language is disapproval.
A predator whose sole purpose is trapping prey.
That’s currently me.
My breasts are smashed against the hard muscles of his chest. Our bodies have collided in a mesh of strength against softness.
In this position, the difference in size is too great to ignore. I’m so small compared to him that he could easily break and stomp all over me.
Leave me absolutely wrecked.
The skin where his fingers are touching my elbow sparks in a million fires, expanding all the way to my chest.
I’ve always heard about overwhelming tension, the type that lingers like a weight at the back of one’s throat and robs them any semblance of sanity and logical thinking.
But I never imagined it would be this…frightening.
This powerful.
And I need out of his orbit. Now.
I try to pull my elbow free, but it might as well be caught in a trap.
So I force my lips into a smile that probably looks awkward at best. “Oh, hi. I didn’t know you were coming today. You should probably go out and greet the fangirls and fanboy, Harry. They’ve been dejected thinking you wouldn’t be here—”
“Shut up.”