Chapter 17- Alexei
I pushed open the door to the boxing area and stepped inside. Ilya followed a step behind, still cradling his wrist against his chest.
I glanced over at him as we walked toward the benches near the far wall. He was quiet for once, which was rare enough to notice. His usual manic energy dimmed into something smaller.
I had never done that before. I didn’t choose violence in general when we were around other people, and especially not with him. He was family, the chaotic, loud-mouthed little brother I tolerated more than most.
But the second I saw his arm wrap around Marco’s shoulders in that hallway, something ugly snapped inside me. The killing intent gripped me so hard and so fast that my body moved before my brain caught up.
It was like my obsession with that boy had finally started rotting parts of my brain I didn’t know could rot. It was bringing out reactions I had never felt before, this raw, territorial shit that made me want to break bones just because someone else had touched what was mine.
I stopped near the benches and turned to face him fully. My eyes dropped to his wrist first, then lifted to meet his. He was still rubbing it absently, fingers pressing into the skin through the long sleeve. I couldn’t see if I bruised him; he never wore short sleeves.
“Where is my driver?” I asked.
Ilya looked up at me, then down at his wrist again before shrugging with one shoulder. “Kicked him in the head and stole his car.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose for a second. Of course he had. “Why?”
He grinned then, small at first, but it grew into that familiar lopsided thing that usually meant trouble.
“I wanted to see what is so interesting about Mario since you’re orbiting around him so much lately.
I got to say, he is pretty cute. Listened to me the whole ride and didn’t complain no matter how much I talked.
And I talked a lot, Lex. Like, a concerning amount.
He just nodded and smiled and let me ramble. Cute. Really cute.”
“Enough.”
I stepped closer, my gaze darkening as I looked down at him. “I don’t like when someone calls him cute.”
Ilya’s head snapped up, eyes widening before narrowing. “What!? Are you going to break my arm next?”
I felt my jaw clench and forced myself to look down instead, staring at the scuffed concrete between us. I gripped him very hard back there, hard enough to bruise, but I hadn’t gripped hard enough for him to wince the way he had. That reaction was concerning.
I forced my voice to stay even. “Are you hurt?”
He scoffed, still rubbing his wrist.
“No.”
Lies. I could see them written all over his face, the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes fully, the way he kept shifting his weight like he was trying to downplay it. Ilya was many things, but he was a terrible liar.
“Ilya.”
“I said I’m not,” he snapped, louder this time. His voice echoed a little in the empty space. He dropped his hand from his wrist and crossed his arms instead, defensive. “It’s fine. You overreacted back there, but whatever. Message received.”
I exhaled slowly through my nose, the frustration twisting together in my chest. This obsession was getting worse.
It was twisting things inside me I didn’t recognize, making me react with violence toward people I didn’t want to use it against. Ilya wasn’t some random idiot at school. He was one of us.
I looked back up at him, forcing my expression to stay neutral even though the urge to reach out and check his wrist properly was stronger than I wanted to admit.
***
I stepped into the cafeteria, eyes cutting straight across the room until they landed on the table in the back corner.
Marco was there.
Not alone.
A girl sat beside him, Sasha. I knew her. She was always appearing when Rei wasn’t around, because I think he didn’t like her. Oh look, we have that in common.
His tray sat in front of him, some sad sandwich. Good thing I came prepared.
I crossed the room, ignoring the few glances that followed me. When I reached their table I simply reached down, picked up Marco’s tray, and dumped the entire thing straight into the nearest trash bin. In its place I set down the plate I had brought with me.
Grilled chicken breast, perfectly seasoned with herbs. Steamed broccoli and carrots. A small portion of quinoa mixed with olive oil and lemon. Sliced avocado on the side. A few fresh strawberries at the edge, because I knew he liked them.
Marco blinked up at me, fork still halfway to his mouth even though his plate was gone.
“What is this?” he asked, pointing at the new plate.
“Your food,” I said.
I pulled out the chair beside him and sat down without asking. Sasha was still there, watching the whole exchange with her mouth slightly open. I turned my head just enough to look at her.
“Move.”
She hesitated, then slowly slid out of the seat and moved to the one across from us.
“This isn’t from the cafeteria,” he said after a second, poking at the quinoa with his fork. “We don’t have this on the menu.”
“The menu is shit,” I answered, leaning back in the chair and resting one arm along the back of his. “This is better. Eat it.”
Sasha leaned forward from across the table, eyes bright. “That looks really good. Can I try some?”
She extended her hand toward the plate like she was going to take a piece of chicken. I picked up a fork, reached across, and swatted her hand away with the back of it before she could touch anything. The plastic tines clicked against her fingers. She pulled back fast, eyes widening.
Marco’s face went red. “I’m sorry, Sasha—”
“Don’t apologize for me,” I cut in.
Marco’s shoulders had gone rigid beside me. I felt the shift in his body before I even glanced at him. His lips pressed together into a thin, anxious line, the way they always did when he was trying to swallow panic.
Sasha recovered faster than I expected.
“I’m sorry,” she said, voice light and sweet like syrup. “I didn’t mean to. I just thought it looked good. My bad.”
She looked at Marco first, then let her gaze slide over to me.
“I didn’t know you were friends with one of the Void Kings, Marco,” she said, tilting her head. “That’s… new.”
Marco’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He just pressed his lips together harder.
I answered before he could find his voice.
“I’m not his friend.”
“Oh,” she said. “Right. Of course. I just meant—”
“Move to another table.” I commanded.
Sasha’s eyes widened a fraction. She looked at Marco again, searching for some kind of lifeline, some sign that he would stop me.
Marco didn’t stop me.
He turned his head just enough to meet her eyes.
“It’s okay,” he nodded. “You can go.”
Sasha hesitated.
After another beat she stood, smoothing her skirt with both hands.
“Alright,” she said, still wearing that brittle smile. “I’ll… see you later, Marco.”
The second she was gone, the noise of the cafeteria seemed to press in closer. I turned my full attention to Marco.
“Eat.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly. “She was just being nice.”
“She was touching what is mine.” The words came out before I could soften them.
Marco’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. He glanced at me sideways, cheeks already turning that pretty shade of pink I liked too much.
“I’m not… yours,” he whispered, but there was no real fight behind it. Just exhaustion. “We’re not… you know what I mean.”
I leaned in closer, resting my forearm on the table so my body blocked him from the rest of the room. The position forced him to either look at me or stare at his plate. He chose the plate.
“You let me lie to your mother,” I said, voice low. “You let me sit at your dinner table and call myself your boyfriend. You let me drive you to school and kiss you in the parking lot where anyone could see. What are you if not mine?”
He stabbed another piece of broccoli.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he muttered. “You cornered me. You always corner me.”
“Hm. I guess that is true.”
I watched him take the bite. Watched the way his throat moved when he swallowed. The strawberries on the edge of the plate were still untouched. I picked one up between two fingers and held it out to him.
“Open.”
His eyes flicked up to mine. I thought he might refuse. Then his lips parted, and I placed the strawberry on his tongue. He closed his mouth around it. I felt the faint brush of his lips against my fingertips.
The strawberry was gone, but my fingers stayed right there, hovering at his mouth.
I watched the way his lips were still slightly parted from taking the fruit, soft and pink and trembling just the tiniest bit.
I dragged the pad of my thumb across his lower lip, smearing the faint trace of juice left behind.
Marco’s breath hitched.
“I can’t wait to fuck this mouth, Malyshka.”
Marco’s entire face went scarlet in an instant.
The flush spread down his neck and disappeared under the collar of his shirt.
His eyes went wide, then immediately dropped to the table like he could hide from me there.
He pulled back fast, almost knocking his chair an inch backward, and pressed his lips together so tightly they went white.
His hands disappeared under the table, twisting together in his lap.
I studied him.
And then I saw it.
A very obvious, very hard bulge straining against the front of his pants.
I grinned.
He must have felt me looking. His legs snapped together so fast I heard the faint scrape of his chair. One hand dropped between his thighs like he could hide it.
“D-don’t look,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Alexei…”
I slid my hand under the table and rested it high on his thigh. He was trembling. Hard.
“My shy little star is filthier than he pretends to be.”
Marco made a mortified sound in the back of his throat and squeezed his legs tighter. His hand was still between them, trying to cover himself. It wasn’t working.
I leaned in until my mouth brushed the shell of his ear.
“Stand up.”
He shook his head once, frantic. “I…I can’t. Everyone will see—”
“I said stand up, Marco.”