CHAPTER 62
Riven
Into it – Chase Atlantic
It's been six days since the revelations about Kyle and I haven't really recovered.
At work, I've been forcing smiles, pretending everything is fine. Jules and Charlie saw right through it.
They asked me what was wrong, of course.
So, I told them everything.
Evren, us sleeping together, the ball, my parents trying to arrange my marriage.
The moment I said that, Jules and Charlie snapped. Not at each other nor at me, at my parents not even present.
They started insulting them, threatening them. I had to calm them down before continuing.
The sensation of the heel sinking in, the jump out of the window, Kyle, everything. But more importantly what I felt when Evren and me kissed for the first time.
I couldn’t explain it correctly, because I simply don’t know what is this between me and him.
Hate?
Obsession?
Lust?
For sure.
But for what I feel exactly every time he kisses me, every time we have sex, especially since the blonde girl—I don’t even remember her name—incident, I’m lost.
But I don’t want him to leave, I don’t want to lose my monster, my freak.
I avoid him as much as I can until I figure out what I feel for him. Yet somehow, I keep colliding with him everywhere.
Every single time, he finds a way to piss me off and I would just hit him, he would laugh or growl like a dog and we end up sweating and naked, tangled together.
And him?
He comes running—or driving—to me whenever he feels like it, whenever he needs to.
It doesn't matter where I am.
I could be taking a shit in my loft, and I'd hear him breaking in, only for him to wait until I'm done and out of the shower.
Then I'd find him there, naked and furious. Most of the time covered in blood.
He'd throw himself at me like a man possessed, and devour me that leaves me completely wrecked.
Afterward, he'd become slightly distant, telling me who he'd had to kill, who he'd trained that day, how the gang was doing, the races to after listening to my day and getting all possessive and threatened to rip the men members that I tattooed.
Every. Single. One.
Then, without warning, he'd roughly haul me to the shower and scrub both of us clean before pressing a kiss to my forehead and walking out.
The first day he did that, I burst into his garage with the dagger and threaten him to kill him if he keeps using me like a hole to let out his frustration.
He just laughed when I did that, flicked my forehead, pulled me in a devouring kiss and released me before going back to his Charger, elbow deep in.
Since, when he'd walk out, an hour later he'd be back, tossing a bag of food onto the table and ordering me to eat before flashing me a cocky wink.
I’m so lost, I can’t even think without him barging in—real life or in my thoughts and I hate it.
So now the girls are dragging me through District 6—The entertainment district.
“Come on, Riv!” Charlie beams. “You need a spa day or a day full of alcohol!”
I groan but let her drag me along anyway.
“We're totally doing one of those laser spas where they shoot lasers at your face and it tickles.” Jules glances down at her comm.
I grimace. The fuck does she mean?
“What?” I ask.
“Yeah! The laser pierces your skin and it tickles. It's supposed to relax your facial muscles.” Charlie giggles. “With all the faces you keep making, I'm sure you need it, Riv.”
I gasp dramatically.
“You cunt!” I laugh. “You think they have lasers for your brain? You clearly need a few more neurons.”
Jules bursts out laughing.
“She definitely does!”
“Hey!” Charlie yelps, offended, punching my shoulder. “It's called prioritizing the important things.”
She scoffs.
“Yeah, prioritizing... sure.” I chuckle, rubbing my shoulder.
I needed this.
This week has been a complete mess. After everything that's happened, I always need these two degenerates to make me laugh and, even if it's only for a little while, forget what a fucking disaster my life has become.
In the middle of the street, I suddenly stop, wrench my arm free, and sprint toward a nearby corner.
“Wh—Riven!” Charlie and Jules shout at the same time.
They catch up to me, panting and worried.
I simply turn around, holding out two ice creams.
“I knew the vendor was about to close,” I say. “I had to run if I wanted to get them.”
Charlie and Jules exchange a glance before looking past me at the stand.
I grin.
“Oh my God...” Charlie's hand flies to her mouth.
“That's...” Jules begins. “The same stand... the same company we used to—”
“Buy our ice cream from after class, ever since the day we met,” I finish for her, smiling brightly at both of them.
“I just thought it'd be nice to have some and walk around instead of going to a spa. We could head back to my loft, have a few drinks, get ready together, sing, dance... then go out.”
I hand each of them an ice cream.
“Absolutely fuck yes!” Charlie practically deep-throats the ice cream.
“I'm in.” Jules nods, completely deadpan, the corner of her mouth lifting into a faint smile as she takes a bite. “But I'm stealing your clothes.”
At my loft, Jules literally has her head in my dressing.
I’m downstairs with Charlie, in an oversized t-shirt, high socks, drinking white wine and dancing around with sunglasses.
The music is pounding in my ears, filling the whole loft and swallowing every sound from the city beyond the windows.
We’re screaming at our lungs, laughing. We’re just preparing ourselves, like we always did.
Jules comes downstairs wearing one of my favorite outfits. Charlie turns the music down.
She's wearing my black asymmetrical mini dress with a high halter neckline and a large oval cutout over the chest, leaving her waist and midriff bare.
The outfit is finished with chunky black platform ankle boots.
One of my eyebrows rises as I slowly look her up and down.
“Damn, girl.” I wink. “You could absolutely get me into your bed.”
Jules rolls her eyes but not before winking back.
“My turn!” Charlie announces, already bolting upstairs.
I shake my head, amused.
“It's been a long time since we did our ritual before going out.”
“Yeah...” I sigh. “I know. I missed this.”
Five minutes later, while I'm pouring myself another glass of wine, Charlie comes strutting down the stairs, striking dramatic poses with every step.
Jules nearly chokes on her wine. I just roll my eyes amused until I see what she is wearing.
Charlie decided to wear my three-thousand-credit boots—my oversized black faux-fur platform boots.
On top of that, she's wearing my strapless black satin corset, cinched tight around the waist, paired with my black micro shorts over fishnet tights.
A silver chain belt hangs low across her hips, while long black arm warmers reach past her elbows.
“Charlie,” I say deadpan, closing my eyes and tilting my head toward the ceiling as I pray for spontaneous combustion.
Not for boots.
For Charlie.
“One drop of alcohol on those boots, and I swear to whatever god is listening, I'll make a fur coat out of your hair.”
“She gets compliments and I get threats?” Charlie grimaces. “You're not fair.”
“You're sexy. You're gorgeous. You could have any man—or woman—you want.” I pause, pointing at her feet. “But my boots.”
She gasps dramatically before skipping toward the couch like an overexcited child and taking another drink.
“Your turn girl, let’s see what you’ve got.” Jules challenges.
She knows I love a challenge, that I never say no.
“Alright,” I grin and yank my wine in one shot “You want to see what I’ve got huh?”
The music is deafening, people are packed shoulder to shoulder, the air reeks of sweat, sex, and alcohol.
Charlie dragged Jules and me to that new club that opened a week ago—The Nexus.
Neon lights sweep across the crowd while holograms of the artists drift overhead, pulsing in perfect rhythm with the music.
I still don't know if I like it.
It's weird.
The club sits right on the border between the Lower and Upper Layers, so people from both are here.
Not that I have a problem with that, I have a problem with potential threats.
In clubs, there's always some asshole trying something stupid and here there could be a gang leader I don't even know exists but could know for me.
Since Kyle’s files, I’m paranoid in public places. The fact that they reopened the case could mean people who are not happy with it—or with what Evren and I did at the ball—could try anything.
Jules yanks on my arm, snapping me out of my paranoia that makes me yelp in surprise and smile.
I should focus on our girls' night, not on everything that could go wrong.
Anything can happen in a club anyway.
I head to the bar and order a round of Green Neon and Red Blood shots—Devil’s Shot.
I wire the credits, grab the tray, and bring it back to our table.
“And here we go!” I exclaim.
Charlie claps her hands and immediately grabs both shots.
Jules does the same, I take mine last.
You're supposed to drink the Green Neon first.
It tastes like fucking acid, hitting you with a sharp slap to the face. Then you chase it with the Red Blood, that one sends you straight to the stars.
Just those two and for the next couple of hours you're laughing, dancing, and drunk without completely losing yourself.
As long as you don't overdo it.
“Cheers!” We shout it in unison before throwing back the shots.
I grimace, my whole-body shudders with a sharp hiss through our teeth at the same time.
The effects hit almost instantly, every light in the club blooms into stars, actual fucking stars.
That's magic.
My hands drift to my neck before sliding down over my outfit.
I look down at myself.
Damn, I'm sexy.
The fabric beneath my fingertips feels impossibly soft, like I'm petting velvet.
The shots sharpen some senses—touch especially—while blurring others, like my sight, just enough to feel weightless.
“Your outfit is the sexiest out of all of us!” Charlie shouts, poking my bare stomach.
“I know, right?!” I yell back. “I told you, I'm the best at this shit!”
Jules climbs onto the booth's couch and starts dancing to the music.