Chapter 23 Neve #3
“Tell me what he said.” Faust must see it in my eyes, that I’m thinking over those words. Chilling, now that I know Will was stabbed just a couple of days later.
“But if it was Sylvan, they would know. Will was murdered by the library, surely there are cameras that—”
“They weren’t working that night.”
The reality of that statement rings in the space between us. “How do you know that?”
Faust shrugs, but he doesn’t look away. “Heard it through the grapevine.”
I swallow hard and don’t press. “But if Sylvan is a suspect, we’d know, wouldn’t we?”
“Not if he’s just not one yet.”
“You know him far better than I do.” I stare at Faust, so close to me, I can see his pulse beat in his throat. Steady and calm. “Do you think he has it in him to randomly kill two people?”
Faust doesn’t look away from me. “What if it wasn’t random?” The suggestion is a whisper of an idea, but it brings me back to the question he started all of this with.
“But we didn’t know each other until last Wednesday night,” I protest. “If he had a motive to murder both of them, it had nothing to do with me. What do you know about his family?” I want to paint a full picture of Sylvan’s possible motives in my mind.
Faust frowns, his brows tugging together. “I… don’t.” He realizes the oddity of his words as he speaks them.
“Don’t all of your parents go to games? Family? Siblings—”
“My mom does, yes. I’m an only child.”
“Of course you are.” I wave my hand to dismiss his perplexed look. Only children don’t understand they give off only child vibes as soon as you meet them, and trying to explain it to them does no good. “What about Ryles?” It’s the name I’m most familiar with. “You’ve seen his family at games?”
“What do you know about Ryles?” Faust narrows his eyes.
I roll my own. “Answer the question.”
“Yeah. His little sister. His dad.”
I don’t ask about his mom. “Anyone’s parents you don’t see?”
Faust looks down at where we’re touching, like he’s thinking. “Swarvy, one of the back-up goalies. But his parents are in Russia. I guess… Only Connor’s.”
“And you don’t find that odd?”
“He is American.”
“He’s from Buffalo.” That’s like a three and a half hour drive from here. Besides, I’m sure there are other Americans on the team.
Faust’s jaw jumps like he’s annoyed I remember.
I’m secretly pleased at the jealous look on his face, his lips turned down and brows furrowed, but I don’t push at it. “Do you find that odd? Have you ever asked why no one shows up for him?” I think back on the case study I did tonight.
Antisocial personality disorder. I’m definitely not armchair diagnosing Sylvan. In many ways, the disorder doesn’t seem to fit him, as far as I can tell. But in other ways… it does.
“No,” Faust answers, and there’s a quiet to the word that feels heavy. Like he regrets he hasn’t dug deeper. “But sometimes it happens. Guys don’t have close family. No one shows up for them. We just show up for each other.”
Unexpectedly, my heart feels as if it twists in my chest, thinking of cocky Sylvan Connor being lonely. Frostbite, Cyn said.
“Even if he has a bad family history, how would that connect him to Jackson and Will?” Faust is quiet for a moment as he studies me, trying to puzzle it out himself.
But I don’t have an answer. I’m just probing.
In the silence, he fills it again. “Why did you… like them? Will and Jackson?”
He uses the word “like,” but I can tell in his pause he meant to say “fuck.” He’s trying to be polite, and it annoys me.
“You can just call a thing a thing.” Slut D. The slur echoes in my head.
I glance at the pancakes on my plate, only a bite missing.
“You want to know why I fucked them both, just say that.” Even as I try to sound flippant, the bitterness seeps through my tone.
“Neve.”
Reluctantly, I look up into Faust’s dark eyes. That ring of silver around his irises is distracting, but so is he, on the whole. Especially when he uses that tone he just spoke in to say my name. Patient, forgiving.
I don’t know why it matters that I get either of those two qualities from him. Besides, I’m sure it’s all an act regardless.
“What.” Bratty and spat out as a statement rather than a question. This is me descending into my lowest self, but usually when it starts, I can’t stop it.
“I’m not judging you. What you did then is your business and I met you when I met you—”
“Oh, do you think I somehow changed the moment I collided with you at Sky? Do you think you’re going to reform me? Because if you believe I’m anything other than what I was, you’re lying to yourself.”
“And what were you?” His tone is sharper now, but only slightly. Still patient, but on the edge.
“A whore. Nothing is different, Faust. Or do you not remember when I just told you to pinch my—”
“I’ve spent this entire time trying to forget it. And failing.” The rumbly words sink low in my belly, causing me to ache all over, but the flush on my throat spills the truth, too. I’m embarrassed I’m like this, and yet I meant what I said.
Cyn is my biggest supporter, my closest friend, and even she has warned me that giving it up to any guy I find attractive will “ruin my soul.”
I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth and try not to say the angry words right there in my brain, but I fail. “Go ahead and fuck me. Then you can stop pretending to care.”
He sits up straighter, as if I struck him. Once more, I’m in awe over how big he is. “Please stop.”
“Why? Isn’t that the real reason you invited me here?
” My temper is explosive now and I know I’m being immature and ridiculous but when my mood crashes down like this, it’s like I can’t stop.
I hop down from the stool, standing between his knees as I point my finger in his face, disregarding the fact he could throw me across the room if he felt like it.
“You’re more polite than Sylvan, and far better than Jackson or Will, but you want the same thing.
” I step closer, and his knees lock around my sides, but I ignore the electricity that seems to pulse between us with the movement.
“Fuck me. I’m nothing but a whore, and you’re an elite hockey player, so obviously, I’ll let you—”
His hand shoots to my throat, cutting off my words. It’s not the force that shuts me up; he’s oddly gentle about it, even as his other arm comes around my spine and drags me ever closer to him.
It’s the unexpectedness of it.
Faust Darling didn’t seem like the type.
But now that his big hand is wrapped around my neck and he’s not letting me move, his arm locking me in place between his thighs, I see it. What I saw the first night, when I was between him and his teammate both.
There’s something dangerous beneath his quiet exterior too, isn’t there?
He tips my chin up with his hold underneath my jaw, and forces me to look at him, eye to eye.
“Stop, Neve.” He enunciates each word carefully, his full lips gorgeous as he tries to tame me.
“I don’t think any of those things about you.
Whoever put it into your head that you’re only good to fuck, if I find out who it is…
” He dips his head, so his eyes are precisely level with mine. “I will murder them.”
My body, before so hot, turns ice cold.
I know he can feel my pulse beat in my throat.
Considering the two murders surrounding us right now, I shouldn’t find it so attractive. It should scare me. And on some level, evident by that chill down my spine, it does. But no man has ever said anything like this to me before and seemed to mean it.
Nolan was—is—overprotective, but he likes to blame me for anyone who treats me less than.
He has this image of me as an angel but I never fit, and so he assumes something in my behavior or attire or general demeanor provokes people, on accident.
It keeps me blameless in his mind but full of mistaken sin, too.
In fact, on Faust’s list of people to murder based on the criteria he just said, my own brother might show up on it.
Faust nudges his nose to mine.
I inhale deep, my hands by my sides, my body rigid in his hold, but I don’t try to pull away. Something like compassion seems to wash over me. It makes me feel vulnerable, unsteady, but I’m not quite ready to decimate it and turn my back to it just yet.
“You don’t need to be this way with me.”
I don’t ask what he means by this way. I know. Deep down, in the dark places I don’t want to look, I understand exactly what he’s saying.
“I’m asking about them,” he lifts his brows, his nose still pressed to mine, as if he wants me to understand who he means by “them” without saying their names and ruining our moment.
I definitely understand.
And I know eventually, I’ll ruin this moment myself.
I’m sorry, Faust. A silent, preemptive apology for when I fuck it all up.
“I want to know what connection they could have to Sylvan, and how it all comes back to you.” He whispers the last word over my lips, then runs his nose against mine again.
I feel like melting here. Just like this. Only for tonight.
Maybe I’ll fuck it up in the morning.
But tonight, could I keep him?
“And I want to know how you met them. Because they were older, weren’t they?
And I find it pretty fucking gross they were hanging around college students our age.
Poaching them from campus, judging by how often they seemed to be here, and they’re not students themselves.
” He brushes his lips over mine, still gripping tight to my throat, but gentle enough I can easily take in air. “Don’t you, Neve? Find it gross?”
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Say it,” he whispers. “Tell me they’re disgusting.”
“Well, they’re dead—”
He tightens his hold on my neck, cutting off my words.
Now, it’s a little harder to breathe.
“Tell me, North.”
Fuck. My eyes flutter closed, and I obey him. “They’re disgusting.” A whisper, but I did what he wanted.
“Good girl.” His lips bump mine. “Now tell me you want to sleep here, Neve.”
I don’t open my eyes. I want to give into the moment. Cyn will kill me herself, but maybe not, because this gives her all night with her football player. And if Cyn is sleeping with him, even just entertaining him over night, it means something to her.
So I nod once, without thinking it through, but then when I do, the panic starts to bleed in.
“I don’t have clothes or—”
“You can wear mine.”
“Skincare or—”
“I have products you can try.”
At that, my eyes fly open. “What?” I wonder how many other girls he’s seduced, all over again, but he frowns at me.
“Don’t I have nice skin?” he asks, very seriously, his grip on my neck loosening again.
I laugh a little as he pulls back so I can take in his entire face. “Well, yeah, I just assumed…”
“That since I’m a hockey bro, I don’t take care of my skin?”
A giggle slips past my lips and I blush hot. “Well. Yes.”
“Jesus.” He blows out a breath. But then the small smile he had slips from his face and he’s staring at me again. “Stay tonight. Tell me about them.” His eyes narrow a fraction. “We won’t sleep together. I’ll take you home in the morning.”
I try to make it a joke when I ask, “Why do you keep rejecting me before I’ve even done anything?” But it comes out kind of pathetic.
He strokes his thumb down my windpipe, then curls the fingers of his other hand against my side, digging in, like he’s trying to be nice but he can’t hide his possessiveness, either.
“I don’t want to ruin this,” he says softly. “And despite what you may have heard, I don’t sleep with just anyone.”
It’s my turn to glare now. “Are you saying I’m just anyone?”
He rolls his eyes and it’s so cute I want to pinch him, but I keep my hands by my sides. “No.” He lets me go, all at once, and it’s enough to send me pitching back, just a little before I catch my balance. “Not at all. Not even close.”