Chapter 17 Neve #2
A psychopath? A murderer? Batshit crazy?
In my head, I see him pinning Will to the stove top. Lying about sleeping with me, casually to Faust. I don’t know how that conversation went myself, but I can see him dropping the news like it’s no big deal, even though sleeping with me is a privilege.
One I should maybe use more sparingly.
I suck in my cheeks but don’t dare say a word to interrupt Tasia as she searches for her own description of Sylvan Connor.
She lifts her jade eyes to mine and when she blinks, the carefree, happy girl seems gone for a moment as the reality of Sylvan Connor weighs down her mind.
“Intense. Too much.”
“Was he obsessed with you?” My voice is hoarse as I ask the question. Why do I care? I didn’t know he existed until about three days ago. “Like… stalker-ish?” Maybe that’s a leading question but I need to know if he just does this to every girl he wants to sleep with.
It won’t change anything. If I’m being honest, he scares me. And I don’t want to fuck someone I’m scared of.
I don’t think.
Tas shakes her head once, and that annoying feeling of relief warms through me.
I take another drink, straightening my spine, one leg crossed over the other under the bar as I watch Tas struggle through whatever it is she wants to say next.
For a girl who seems unhindered, she’s certainly choosing her words carefully about this topic.
“No.” Her cheeks blush pink and she glances down, straightening the edges of her short black skirt. Her throat rolls as she swallows. “He couldn’t have made it more clear he’s not interested in me. Like that.”
I think of her wearing his name on her back just last night.
She doesn’t seem like the type of girl to beg but I guess there’s always one guy who can get us on our knees.
“But when he fucks…”
Oh, God. Why do I feel like I want to throw up?
“He makes you feel like you’re the only person who matters.”
I’m going to vomit.
“Wow.” That’s all I say. Wow.
“But when I pressed him if this could be more… You know, I don’t usually sleep around with guys I’m not in a relationship with…” She says this quickly, like she doesn’t want me to get the wrong idea of her.
If she only knew about Jackson. Will.
Slut D.
“He… freaked me out.”
Scared me. That’s what she means. I know it is, the way her knuckles go white around her glass.
“Freaked you out how?”
She stares at her drink, as if she’s debating on telling me. “God, it’s so embarrassing.” She glances up at me, as if pleading with me to forgive her misjudgment, which I do, because I’ve got my own. “I might have texted him way too much. Anyway, he said if I didn’t leave him alone, I’d disappear.”
I feel cold at her words, because in my head, his violence with both me and Will flashes into my mind.
Faust was right. Will deserved it. Deserves worse. I got away lucky from him and Jackson both, as much as it might be wrong to say that about half the dead. But it’s true.
Still, I have a feeling that wasn’t because Sylvan felt something in the goodness of his heart to save me.
I realize Tas is staring at me and I need to say something before she starts to read my mind or piece together my innocent questions as something more leading than that.
“Was he joking?”
Tas takes a deep breath, downs the rest of her vodka cran, and I don’t need her answer out loud to know the truth of it.
“No.” She stares at the ice in her empty drink, one hand still wrapped around the glass. “I mean, probably, but it sounded eerie.”
Before I have to respond, a guy behind her glances down her shirt, then lifts his eyes to me and smirks.
“You two want another?” he asks, flashing big, blocky white teeth.
I open my mouth to say no, but Tas whirls around in a flash and answers for both of us.
“Vodka cran and rum and Coke, please.” Her voice is sultry, nothing like the faraway tone she had a second ago.
The guy’s grin widens and he jerks his head to a friend behind him in a pile of guys.
I want to roll my eyes as the guy leans in toward the bartender, splaying both hands on the bar top to order for us, but then I catch a glimpse of his friend.
He’s tall, dark-haired, tattoos around his throat, leather jacket.
Exactly my type to fuck. Just what I need to get Jackson, Will, Sylvan, and Faust out of my head.
The tattooed guy’s eyes connect with mine and I hear Tasia giggle as his friend pushes drinks our way. Tonight, I’ll take the distraction.
Clay—the guy who bought the drinks—and Ace, the one with the tattoos, join us on a U-shaped couch in the corner of Castle’s, a back room behind it half-hidden by a gauzy partition.
Our drinks are on the low table in front of us and Tas and I are beside one another, the boys bracketing us.
My gaze finds Cyn’s and she grins at me as she leans in toward a guy, too, and Karter is—unsurprisingly—actually talking on her cellphone as she completely ignores the man across from her. But somehow, he’s still staring at her as if he has a chance.
I laugh as I reach down, swoop up my glass, and take another sip of my drink—same one Clay bought, because I’m not pulling a Jackson-sized mistake again—and Ace’s tattooed hand kneads my shoulder, his arm slung around me.
Candles burn on the table in front of us, emerald-green glass surrounding black wax, and the flickering flames make Ace’s bright blue eyes stand out more in the dark.
“Neve is an interesting name,” he says, his voice smooth like whiskey and honey.
“You’re going to have to try harder,” I say mockingly, looking up at him through my lashes. This is exactly what I needed. A hot distraction; from the investigation, from Will, from Sylvan stalking me, from Faust’s dark eyes.
Ace’s fingers bite into my muscle but I like the way it feels.
“I can do harder,” he says, so close to my face, I can smell the Listerine on his breath.
“Can you?” I tip back my drink, ice hitting my teeth. It’s almost empty again, and I don’t need another. It’s too loud in here, too crowded, and I’m already too drunk. Not blackout wasted but I don’t want to push my luck.
“Bad Decisions” by BOBI ANDONOV plays loudly in the background as Ace’s hand comes to the back of my neck.
I shiver, and I can’t help but think of Sylvan’s gloved fingers in that exact spot on Wednesday night.
Ace must see something in my eyes because he nudges his knee against mine and leans in to whisper in my ear.
“I can be gentle, too, though, Neve.” His voice is heaven sent but those words are hellish.
I suck on my bottom lip, unseen by him because he’s still so close to me, and a moment later, I feel his lips on my neck.
Warmth shoots through me.
“Come sit on my lap,” he whispers.
My blood surges under my skin and fuck it, I don’t want to think about hockey boys anymore.
I lean over to set my drink down, then, without thinking, I spin around, lean up, and straddle Ace.
My arms loop around his neck and my fingertips find the softness of his leather jacket. My knees are wide, on either side of his hips, my breasts pushed up against his chest as I press my temple to his and look down at him.
I circle my hips and his hands find my ass.
“Fuck.” He groans the word and his eyes flutter closed.
I grind against him again as I hear Tas say my name in delighted shock.
And when I pick my head up, this stranger’s cock pushing against my center, our bodies melded together, I glance past the black, flowy partition.
It’s half-open, and there, just beyond it, my gaze locks on Sylvan Connor’s.
He has a drink in his hand as he sits on a leather couch with his teammates and a few half-dressed girls, the lights low there, but there’s no mistaking it’s him.
I arch my back as he watches me, my pulse racing, and Ace’s head is between my breasts. He nips at my skin through my sheer silk shirt.
I moan, letting my eyes flutter closed as I put on a show for Sylvan.
Fuck you.
If he wants to say I’m a slut, I can show him just how one behaves.
I grind against Ace as he groans beneath me, and I wonder if I can get him off just like this, dry fucking him while Sylvan watches.
But when I sense a shadow fall over me as Ace kneads my ass, I snap my eyes open.
And have to tip my head back.
And back.
Because Sylvan Connor is standing directly in front of me, staring down at my bare throat.
He’s in a white shirt beneath a long beige coat, brown slacks that show off his high black boots, and he looks more put together than nearly every man in here. Including Ace, still dry humping me from underneath.
My lips part as my pulse pounds.
“Dangerous” by Sleep Token starts to play and my cheeks heat.
Sylvan cocks his head, then he reaches for me, and I notice he’s wearing black leather gloves.
His fingers follow the curve of my throat, just above Ace’s head, but the latter’s eyes are closed.
I gasp, and I hear Ace moan, because he has no idea who is behind him.
Or maybe he does.
Ace is a junior at Drayton, and it seems like nearly everyone but me knew about Sylvan Connor and Faust fucking Darling.
Fuck.
As Sylvan’s finger comes up and over my lips, pulling my bottom one down, I remember Tas.
Right beside me.
And when I try to turn to look at her, Sylvan grabs my face, his fingers pressing into my jaw to keep me looking at him.
“Not at her,” he says, his voice low and quiet, but I can tell Ace hears him, the way he goes rigid beneath me, in a different kind of way. “She doesn’t mean anything to me.”
I gasp as I jerk away from his hold, and Ace snaps his head up, twisting to look at Sylvan.
When I’m free from the hockey player’s grip, I turn to look at Tas, hoping maybe she’s too wrapped up in Clay to notice us.
But Clay is gone, and Tas is staring at me, and, yep, those are definitely tears in her eyes.