Chapter 22 Yulian
YULIAN
Someone is still playing hard to get.
It’s been about a week since I came back to the island, and he still hasn’t graced me with his infuriating presence.
So I decided to pick the tatters of my pride off the ground and forget about him.
Vaughn who? Don’t care about that guy. I have a dozen other people lined up for me.
Or, at least, that’s what I told myself two days ago when I sent him the photo taken from a low angle—half my face in the frame, a girl’s ass parked on my thigh, a guy’s hand sliding beneath my shirt through the undone buttons.
What?
The only weapon I have to mess with Vaughn’s head is me tangled up with other people. He fucking hates it. I know because almost every time he’s gotten in my face, it’s been when I was touching someone else or even mentioned it.
And maybe I resort to this method because I fucking enjoy the string of possessiveness he shows a bit too much. Would give my left nut just to see that rage consuming him.
Alas, no nut will be sacrificed, because his reply was anticlimactic as fuck.
Mishka
These games don’t work on me. Grow up.
Then he proceeded to ignore me.
So I threw another party and sent him ten thousand pictures and videos. Okay, the actual number is maybe a hundred or so, but you get the idea.
I’m going to annoy the fuck out of him until he stops with the games, because he’s the one who’s playing them, not me.
I don’t even know how to play games. I’m direct to a fault—if I want something, I go for it. If I have something on my mind, I say it.
The only time I find myself counting my every breath, word, and step is when that guy is around.
I just don’t understand him half the time. He runs hot and cold in ways I can’t fathom.
He’s the one who cornered me at that event, kissed me senseless, and refused to leave until we found Alina. Then he was checking on me, texting almost daily.
But soon after he was no longer under house arrest, the attention fizzled out.
The mixed signals are giving me whiplash, but like someone suffering from a fucking chronic disease, I keep pathologically checking my conversation with him, searching for any sliver of his attention.
Pathetic.
I need to get a fucking grip and move on.
Now, if my brain can subscribe to that notion, that would be fantastic.
So here I am, sprawled out on the couch while the Serpents’ mansion thrums with EDM, bass shaking through the walls. The lights glow dim and red, just enough cover for everyone to lose themselves in the dark.
I let myself drift, floating in the hedonistic haze, hoping it’ll ease the pressure clawing at me.
It doesn’t.
Maybe I should’ve gone to the underground ring tonight instead.
What also sucks is Cy’s absence. He isn’t a huge fan of these parties, so he’s probably hiding in his room. That is, if he didn’t fuck out of the mansion to do whatever obscure rituals he doesn’t tell me about.
Kevin, Hannah, and Lyra, who’ve been draped all over me, drag me onto the dance floor. I take my beer with me as we shoulder through the throngs of people.
They’re kind of my favorite trio to fuck.
Sometimes all at once. Hannah and Lyra are a couple but keep it open, which means I get invited in whenever they’re in the mood.
Kevin’s usually there to get railed by me while they put on a show.
Then I switch to Lyra, because Hannah gets off on watching her, and Lyra gets off on being fucked.
Now, it’s been ages since I indulged in that harmless fun, mostly because my dick has grown addiction issues to a certain grouchy prick.
Lyra hooks her arms around my waist from behind, craning to make out with Hannah as Kevin grinds into me from the front. It passes for dancing, but really, it’s just him rutting against my leg.
Does my cock notice? I stare down and sigh.
The answer is no.
I take a swig of my beer as I sway along, letting them do their thing, rubbing and grinding, and trying everything under the sun to elicit a reaction that doesn’t quite manifest.
While the girls stay tangled with each other, Kevin catches my hand and tugs me toward the stairs. We stumble against bodies and walls before finally making it to my bedroom.
Not sure why I’m even following. I’m just not in the mood for him or anyone else. My dick is painfully uninterested.
He knows better than to kiss me in public, so once the door closes, he rises onto his toes, but I press a hand against his chest, starting to push him back. Before I can, he’s wrenched away—so violently, he nearly topples.
It happens too fast. A hand slices through the narrow opening of the door, seizing Kevin by the nape. He gasps before being hurled out, his body hitting the opposite wall with a thud.
A grin tugs at my mouth as Vaughn steps in front of me, one fist clenched, flexing in sync with the muscle twitching in his jaw.
Dressed in a dark-green shirt, black slacks, and immaculate leather shoes, he looks devastating. Mouthwatering, even though his muscles are tight and he looks like he’ll cut all hell loose.
Actually, he looks mouthwatering because of that.
I’d devour his rage the fuck up if I could.
“Well, hello, gorgeous.” Kevin stands up and dusts off his clothes. “You’re kind of interrupting, but I’ll forgive you—”
“I see you around here again, and it’ll be the last time you’ll be seen anywhere.” Vaughn’s words are chillingly calm as he slams the door in Kevin’s ashen face, muffling the sounds from downstairs.
“Poor guy.” I sigh as I wrap an arm around Vaughn’s torso from behind, my chest pressed against the hard ridges of his back.
No, I couldn’t help it, and fuck me, he smells good.
The woodsy scent explodes in my nostrils and calms my senses, and I find myself closing my eyes as I inhale him.
“Kevin’s just a normal dude, so maybe don’t go terrorizing him with those harsh threats. Not everyone comes from our world.”
Vaughn spins, breaking my grip and slamming me to the floor. My skull thuds against the carpet, and in the next breath, he’s on top of me, his hand crushing my throat, his body braced above mine, caging me beneath him.
He’s not really choking me that hard, leaving me some room to breathe, but his grip is firm, his thumb and fingers pressing into the sides of my neck.
But that doesn’t matter, because I’m distracted as hell.
By him.
Just having him this close, his face inches from mine, electrifies me.
Steals the fucking air from my lungs.
And I’m totally fine with suffocating.
Loose strands of hair fall across his forehead, his features bathed in soft light, but his eyes blaze with barely contained rage.
“Then Kevin shouldn’t have had the liberty to touch you.” His voice rumbles like a growl, the words dripping with threat. “I told you, didn’t I? You need to quit your whorish fucking habits.”
“You’ll have to stop me yourself, Mishka. If I don’t see you often, I’ll just relapse. That’s who I am.”
“Who you are?” he snarls inches from my face, his breath ghosting over my heated skin. “And what are you? An animal who’s ruled by his dick?”
I shrug. “Sometimes.”
“You little—”
“Oh, shut the fuck up.” I punch him in the chest, because seriously, can’t hurt that gorgeous face—ever. “You can’t just disappear for weeks on end and then show up again, acting all possessive, and expect me to just take you. If you want me to stay loyal to you, you’ll have to do the same.”
“I haven’t touched another person, you goddamn motherfucker!” His punch knocks me sideways, and we crash into a roll. This time, I end up on top, straddling his thighs to pin him down before I slam his wrists into the floor on either side of his head.
He’s breathing hard, and so am I. Not from the fight, but from the blaze ripping through my chest. My entire body is lighting the fuck up with loud fireworks that drown out everything around me.
“No one?” I repeat, voice almost manic. “You haven’t let anyone but me touch you, Mishka?”
“Fuck off.” He tries to wiggle free, but I put more pressure on his hands and thighs.
“Answer me. Am I really the only one you’ve touched since Danika?”
“Yeah…” He trails off, then adds, “Not everyone is an animal like you, asshole.”
Oh, fuck.
Fuck me.
I’m so happy, so elated, so goddamn proud, I feel like I could burst out of my own fucking skin.
He and Danika ended a couple of months ago, and he’s only had me since.
I mean, I also haven’t fucked anything but his mouth and my hand since then, but still. The knowledge that he’s also had the same experience is so gratifying.
During my imaginary dance, I loosen my grip, and Vaughn punches me, then we roll on the ground until he’s once again on top, staring down at me, his lips parted, his gaze flashing.
“I’m telling you, Yulian, I find you flirting with someone else again, grinding against them, letting them put their fucking hands on you, I’ll skin them alive.”
“Violent. Just the way to my heart.”
“I’m fucking serious.” He grabs my throat and shoves my head into the floor. “I will hurt you if you don’t keep your dick in check.”
“Deal.” I grab his nape, yanking him down. “In return, you’ll stop pretending you don’t already belong to me.”
“You’re the one who belongs to me.” He bites my lower lip. “I own you, Volchonok. Are we clear?”
My lips part. “What did you just call me— Mmm.”
My words dissolve into a moan when he crashes his mouth to mine, slurping on my tongue, his hand fisting my hair.
A metallic taste explodes in my mouth, and I’m not sure whether it’s his blood or mine. I don’t care either, because Vaughn just gave me a nickname.
Volchonok.
Little wolf.
The kiss is chaos—clashing sounds, tangled limbs. It’s a fight, a punishment, and a hunger that consumes us both.
I can’t let go, and neither can he. His grip is everywhere—one hand locked at my throat, the other roaming relentlessly from my hair to my chest to my waist.
I reach between us and unbutton his pants, making us both groan when our hard dicks rub against each other’s through the fabric.
Fuck me.