Chapter 8 #2
He goes still again and fuck if that ain’t sweeter than the rage.
“She let me into her space,” I murmur. “Into her tight little cunt, and then gave you the hallway.”
His fist lifts again, but stops.
I look at it, then back at him. “Jeeze, this self-control thing is getting depressing.”
He lowers his hand slowly, but his face has gone flat in a way that makes my skin prickle.
“Don’t look so upset, little brother. I get it now.” I wipe my mouth, smearing blood over my thumb. “You don’t want me away from her because I’m dangerous. You want me away from her because she makes you feel like something can be taken.”
His eyes go colder.
Aw, little brother didn’t like that one.
“You want to stop me?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer, but his shoulders shift, and the whole room seems to tighten around him. The air changes before he does, heavy and mean, like it knows something ugly is about to happen.
Wraith.
My brother is gone. The boy who used to follow me into bad ideas and pretend he didn’t enjoy the fucking dark is no where in sight.
Wraith is quieter. Meaner.
Controlled in the way a blade is controlled right before it opens.
My pulse kicks hard.
I push off the counter anyway, because apparently self-preservation skipped me entirely. “Then fucking do it.”
His fist connects before the words are fully out.
Pain detonates through my jaw. My head snaps sideways, the counter catches my hip, and blood floods hot over my tongue. For half a second, I just breathe through it.
Then I laugh.
Low, rough, and almost breathless.
Because fuck, I missed this. The thing under his skin. The one everybody chants for but nobody actually fucking understands.
I drag my tongue over my split lip and look back at him, smiling with blood on my teeth. “There’s my boy.”
Jagger steps in, chest all puffed up, jaw locked, knuckles red and ruined at his side.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
My stomach tightens.
Not fear. Something worse. Something black and hungry and so goddamn typical of me it should probably embarrass me. Jealousy with teeth. Pretty possession dressed up as amusement. The sick little thrill of finally having all of his attention aimed straight at me again.
I grin. “Promise?”
His hand hooks into my shirt and yanks me close enough that I feel his breath against my mouth.
“I’m going to break every fucking bone you touched her with.”
That should sound like a threat. It doesn’t. It sounds like a match striking.
I smile wider. “Ouu thats new. Sounds fun.”
His grip bites harder, and I lean into it, dragging my gaze over him slowly so he can see exactly how much I’m enjoying this.
His jaw twitches, the vein in his neck pulses.
His eyes are as cold as murder. All because Alice reached into him and me, I used the door she made to pull Wraith right to the surface.
“You feel that?” I ask, watching the control drain out of his face one slow inch at a time. “That isn’t protection, Jagger. That’s jealousy. Ownership. That’s every sick little piece of you waking up because I put my hands on something you thought you already claimed.”
His fist lifts.
I grin through the blood.
“Was that mark supposed to scare me?” I ask, voice dropping. “That stupid little warning you carved into her like it meant something? Like I’d see it and back off?”
His jaw locks.
My smile widens.
“Fuck, baby brother. All it did was show me exactly where to touch.”
I want him to hit me, but he doesn’t. Which is really fucking disappointing. I tilt my head. “Come on, Wraith. Don’t go soft on me now.”
That does it.
His fist hits me again, hard enough to slam my back into the counter. The Scotch bottle rattles behind me, pain bursts through my cheekbone, and my laugh breaks apart around the blood in my mouth.
The room sways for a second. Copper coats my tongue, but fuck if the victory don’t taste better than coffee.
I brace one hand on the counter and look at him, breathing harder now, grinning like the sick fuck I am.
“Better,” I say.
Jagger’s chest rises and falls, but his face has gone frighteningly flat.
“The cage.”
My smile slows.
Oh. That’s interesting.
Jagger steps closer, voice low enough to drag across my skin. “Friday night. You and me.”
I wipe blood from my mouth, watching him over my knuckles. “You want witnesses?”
“I want everyone to see.”
My pulse climbs again, mean and eager. “See what?”
His eyes drop to my mouth, to the damage he put there, then back to my face.
“What’s left of you when I’m done.”
For once, I don’t have a joke ready. Because he just handed me exactly what I wanted, only sharper. Public, violent and fucking personal.
His precious control dragged under the lights where everyone can watch it rot.
Then my grin comes back, slow and filthy.
“Fuck,” I murmur. “Alice really did ruin you.”
“Do not, even say her fucking name,” he says, “or I swear to god Johnny, I will destroy you. I won’t even wait for the goddamn cage.”
Then he walks out.
The door slams hard enough to shake the frame.
For a minute, I stand there with one hand braced on the counter, jaw aching, lip split, coffee cooling on the floor.
Then I start laughing, quiet at first, then harder.
Fucker hit me. Told me he was going to kill me. Booked us a pretty slot in the cage.
Fuck, the excitement is enough to get my blood pumping straight to my cock.
I go to the bathroom and flick on the light. The mirror gives me a bloody mouth, swelling jaw, red on my teeth, and eyes too bright to pass for normal.
I look fucking fantastic.
I lean closer, dragging my thumb under my lip, smearing it across my skin like war paint.
My little brother thinks Friday is where this ends.
That’s the sweetest part.
Wraith is finally coming out to play, and Alice is the leash around his throat.
“Fuck,” I murmur, grinning at myself.
Now I know exactly where to pull.