Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
He finally removes his hands from my arms.
My skin stings a little where he was holding me down, and the pain feels like its own little prize. Maybe it means something’s deeply fucking wrong with me, but I’ve always welcomed certain kinds of pain, on the hockey rink, in the gym, or anywhere else. It can make me feel like I’m alive in some fucked up way, after being a wallflower for the greater part of my life.
Pain, pleasure… any of it.
I just always want more.
Niko manages to grip my wrist tight one more time before Roman’s hand closes around him, prying his hands off of me.
Weston’s hands wrap around his torso again and together they pull him off.
Niko’s gaze stays trained on me even as they hold him back.
“Are you okay, Ollie?” Weston asks, clearly panicking a little.
Weston’s been looking forward to tonight, after all, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the half-brother he never knew is like a rabid animal.
“I’m fine,” I tell Wes as I sit up, massaging the raw spot on my wrist and then reaching up to brush my fingers along my jaw.
Someone holds a hand out to help me up and I stand, pulling in a breath and trying to center myself.
“That isn’t going to fucking fly here, Niko,” Wes tells him.
I step out and tap his arm that’s still restraining Niko. “Weston, it’s okay. This is just leftover beef from when we used to play hockey.”
“Looked like a lot more than just hockey beef.”
Yeah.
It’s a whole lot more.
“I won the last game against him back in high school,” I explain, “and Niko hasn’t let that go. He always was a sore loser.”
I fake a smile, and I can tell that Niko would have lunged at me again for saying that if Roman wasn’t body blocking the two of us right now.
I reach over to the table where I left my glass of whiskey. There’s something sweet behind the bitter, bracing alcohol, and even though it kind of tastes awful, I embrace the burn.
The warmth of the liquor in my throat lessens how much I notice the pain in my jaw and wrists.
“Are you done?” Weston asks Niko.
Weston is wavering between wanting to be welcoming to his brother and wanting to show concern for me.
Unnecessary, but nice.
Wes is always nice. If Roman’s our bodyguard, then Weston Knox is like the jock frat dad of Onyx.
“Yeah. I’m done,” Niko says.
He’s lying. I know Niko better than his own brothers do. And there is not a chance in hell he’s done with me.
I nod at Weston. “It’s good. Really.”
The rest of the crowd has gone back to normal now, and Weston nods back at me, watching for a while longer to make sure I’m fine. He and Roman stay nearby, glancing over at me every few moments.
“This is why you should have just said hello when you saw me,” I tell Niko.
The adrenaline in my veins settles a little.
“You said you wanted to talk,” he says to me now, pulling me out of my thoughts. “So talk.”
“Right. Um, yes. Welcome to Onyx House,” I say.
When Niko looks at me, his gaze makes me feel the same way the whiskey does. Burning into me, but in a way that makes me tempted to go back for more.
Now I’m fucking stumbling over my words, the moment we’re not fighting anymore.
Because social norms are much more difficult than pain or pleasure.
“Didn’t realize you were accepted to Crimson College,” he tells me. “They look fondly on guys who drug people?”
“There isn’t a shot in hell you still believe that,” I tell him in a flat tone. “Even back then, you knew it wasn’t me.”
“Saw the security camera evidence. You were the only one who went into the locker room before I went to grab my drink.”
“Well, then, somebody did it earlier. I didn’t fucking drug you, and I would never do something like that. How many times did I tell you that back then? Am I going to have to keep saying it now?”
Back then, Niko paid off a security guard to show him cam footage from the hall outside the locker room, and in the video, I was the only person seen going in before Niko, right before the game started. To him, it seemed impossible that anyone else would have done it. The truth is that I was only in the locker room for a minute to check my phone, but never had any chance of proving that to Niko.
“You got the chance to easily win the most important hockey game, and while I was under the influence of the lovely little drug called ecstasy, you got what you wanted.”
I hum. “You told me I was pretty.”
“Because you’re pretty, Oliver.” He pauses for a moment, looking down at the open buttons at the top of my shirt. “Do you have freckles like that all over your body, or just there?”