Master of Pain (Gods of Montcove #5)

Chapter 1

ETHAN

T he hot coffee scalding my throat reminds me that I’m not invincible. I’m running on two hours of sleep over the last seventy-two hours and a thermos of ramen, and until this moment I was pretty sure I could go on forever.

The burning down my throat and tongue causes me to yelp and choke. I nearly drop my tablet and the lid-less coffee cup as I flinch and shudder in response.

“Fuck,” I hiss, and nearly stumble into a group of fellow students. A few of them mumble in annoyance and I turn around, trying to avoid conflict with them at all costs, even though that means not being able to get to the table with free water that could soothe my aching throat.

I settle myself and swallow, which only makes my throat feel worse, but thankfully it wasn’t a large swallow. Taking a few breaths of the cool late October air eases most of the pain.

I glance around at the crowd gathered in the Valmont College courtyard, looking for a familiar mess of red hair and sweatpants. I can’t find my best friend Veronica in the crowd, and don’t see anyone else I particularly want to chat with.

With a sigh I turn around, planning to head back inside the small coffee shop and get a lid for my coffee like I should have done to begin with. Obviously, I’m not thinking as clearly as I thought I was.

In fact, with each step I take, the more tired I feel. It’s like I’m dragging my feet and my brain on the sidewalk underneath them.

I don’t realize that my eyes are slowly closing until I suddenly face-plant directly into something—no, someone —muscular and tall.

“Motherfucker!” a low, masculine voice growls at the same time as I stumble backward and hot coffee sloshes down my hand.

I gasp and drop the cup on the damp ground, my hand clenching with pain as my eyes spring up to his face.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

My heart slams against my ribs as I realize I’ve spilled my coffee all over the dark-haired, tattooed man who’s glaring down at me. Luckily, I don’t seem to have burned him, because he’s wearing a zipped-up leather jacket that’s dripping with my coffee, but at least it protected his skin.

“Damn, I’m sorry, I—” But before I can get the words out, he’s unzipping and pulling off his jacket in a huff.

“You should watch where you’re going,” he tells me. His voice is low, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I can’t tell if it’s from fear or something else entirely.

My throat is already hoarse from being burned, and now it’s even tighter with the tension of this moment.

“Are you alright?” I manage to choke out. “Did I only spill it on your jacket?”

As I’m looking at him, taking in his piercing blue eyes and dark shaggy hair, I realize who he is.

Dante Romano.

I don’t know very much about him, but I do know he only shows up to school a third of the time, but has yet to be kicked out.

People seem simultaneously afraid of him and tired of him.

I’ve never had the chance to interact with him beyond seeing him from a distance on campus, and frankly I’ve been fine with that.

Until now.

Dante’s expression shifts from what I can only assume is anger to…

something I’m not sure of. His brow is furrowed, but his eyes drift down my body, all the way to my pristine tennis shoes and then back up to my face.

Something about the way he eyes me is predatory, and even though I should be offended, my stomach muscles tighten and flare with heat.

“I’m fine,” Dante insists. “But my jacket sure as hell isn’t.”

I reach my hand down to wipe the coffee off it on my jeans, but I don’t really want to get the coffee on my clean jeans, so now I’m stuck with a burnt and wet hand.

“Ah, I can pay for the dry cleaning,” I tell him, and start to reach for my phone with my dry hand.

Dante snorts. “Like you could afford it. Why didn’t you have a lid on your cup, anyway?”

“I can afford one dry cleaning session,” I reply defensively. My heart is still fluttering like a nervous schoolboy’s. “I don’t like drinking out of the little hole in the lid and—why am I explaining this to you?”

Irritation flares in my voice.

“If you’re going to be so fucking picky, maybe at least watch where you’re going.” Dante rolls his eyes.

My cheeks flush in embarrassment and my stomach grows hotter. I’ve never really felt something like this before. Sure, I’ve been embarrassed, but this feels different. My heart squeezes, my knees feel weak, and my ears are burning.

“God, I’m sorry, okay?” I choke out in frustration.

“I’ve been awake three days studying for an exam, and now the administration is pressuring students to come to this event on inclusivity when half of the campus still uses the f-slur and the majority of the faculty is white.

It’s seven in the morning, so excuse me if I’m so exhausted that I bumped into you. ”

I start to move around Dante, no longer in the mood for his complaining. I leave my coffee cup on the ground.

Before I can get around him, a large, warm hand wraps around my wrist, and suddenly I’m yanked back toward him.

“What the—” I gasp, and stumble backward slightly as I pull my arm from Dante’s hold.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he practically growls at me.

“You’ve got to me kidding me,” I say as I’m catching my breath. “Get over yourself, Dante.”

He blinks. “You know my name?”

I scoff. “Obviously. Doesn’t everyone? Your reputation is hard to ignore,” I mumble as I rub at my wrist. My hand is mostly dry now, but the skin still burns.

“Since you know my name, what’s yours?” he asks.

“Ethan. What do you want from me? Do you want me to pay for the dry cleaning or not?” I ask him, even though at this point I’m pretty sure I don’t owe him shit.

“Let me get you another coffee,” Dante says.

I stare at him. “What?”

“Don’t make it weird, just accept it,” he says, his intense gaze boring into mine and making it difficult to think, much less get any words out. The sudden change in his demeanor confuses me, but I find myself nodding and taking a step closer to him anyway.

“Good boy,” he hums, his voice low and raspy. My cock twitches in my jeans and my thoughts turn cloudy with surprise.

What the fuck was that?

I ignore it, because the only explanation is too much for me to handle right now.

Dante leads me into the small local coffee shop, where four other people are waiting in line. I stop when we get to the end of the line, but Dante keeps walking.

“Uh.” I look around for a moment, noticing the people in front of me giving Dante dirty looks.

“Come on,” Dante motions, looking at me with even more annoyance.

I’m caught between social etiquette and not wanting to upset him further.

“Sorry,” I mumble to the person in front of me, then follow Dante to the front of the line.

“Hey,” the woman at the front of the line complains, but as soon as her gaze lands on Dante, recognition crosses her face. “Oh.”

“You need to wait your turn, sir,” the barista, Rachel, who I know is new, says with a frown.

“It’s fine; he can go first,” the woman at the front of the line insists as she takes a step back.

The tension in the room is only growing thicker, but something about it feels exciting. Cutting the line with Dante Romano . It’s silly, really. But I don’t stop it.

“What do you want?” Dante asks me.

I clear my throat. “One medium coffee with oat milk and two pumps vanilla.” I’m not sure if I’m telling him or Rachel, but either way she nods and taps it into the order screen.

“Large coffee, black,” Dante orders.

I can’t help the way my face scrunches in disgust, but I quickly try to hide it as he looks at me, making my expression as neutral as possible.

Dante pays for the order and leads me to the other side of the small café to stand at the to-go counter. His leather jacket is slung over one of his arms.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask him.

“You make it sound like I’m holding you hostage,” Dante replies.

I take a deep breath and shake my head. “Look, if you’re trying to mess with me, I can handle it—but we both have places to be, and I don’t need to owe you any favors.”

Dante raises an eyebrow. “Owe me?”

“I spilled coffee on you, and you’re buying me another. We’re two for zero now,” I explain as I pull out my phone. “Give me your number so I can send you a hundred dollars for the dry cleaning, and we’ll call it even.”

His expression falls. “I don’t need your money,” he tells me. “And if you owed me a favor, you’d know it.”

“Well, I don’t. I can’t read minds, but I know you’re not exactly Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes.” I ignore the way my jeans are getting even tighter. My stomach and groin are so hot that I’m starting to feel nauseous.

“No, that’s you,” he says with an unnerving smirk. “You wanna pay for the coffee and jacket? I’d rather you get on your knees and suck my dick.”

Blank.

My head goes blank.

Fire invades my face and every single other part of my body.

I’ve had people joke and tease in a sexual manner toward me before, hell I’ve done it, but from the way Dante looks at me I know he’s serious .

The other barista sets our coffees on the counter. I see it from the corner of my vision, but I can’t move or speak.

At least not until Dante chuckles darkly and breaks our eye contact to grab his coffee.

I swallow the saliva that’s pooled in my mouth and snap myself out of it…whatever it is.

“Not interested,” I tell him, and grab my coffee.

“In me or dudes?” he asks.

“I have a girlfriend,” I inform him.

Dante opens his coffee and grabs a few packets of self-serve sugar.

“That’s not an answer.”

I take a step back. “Thanks for the coffee, but I have things to do.” I turn around, expecting Dante to stop me from leaving, but he doesn’t.

Every time I sip my coffee I think of him, down to the very last drop.

There are moments where I’m focused on the event and people around me, moments where I’m being spoken to and I briefly I forget that I spilled coffee on Dante Romano and he humiliated me, bought me a new coffee, and then told me he wants me to give him a blowjob.

The majority of the time, however, I’m thinking about it…and trying not to.

“Dude, what’s going on?” Nathan asks. I forgot that he’s standing next to me.

I blink and shake my head, shoving my free hand into my jeans pocket. “Nothing, I’m just exhausted,” I tell him. It’s true. My eyes are burning from how tired I am, and I’m sure my face doesn’t hide it.

“Obviously. Need another coffee?” Nathan suggests.

My heart shoots into my throat. “No! I mean, nah. I’m going home after this and crashing.

” I’m finding it difficult to pretend to be casual, but why am I pretending?

Why am I lying to Nathan? We’ve been friends since middle school.

Our families frequently call us by each other’s names to be funny. I’ve always been honest with him.

I’m being honest. What happened with Dante is meaningless. Inconsequential. It’s not related to anything I’m feeling right now, so there’s no reason to mention it.

I repeat this in my head a few times. However, my thighs are tense and those piercing blue eyes are burned into my mind.

What the fuck is happening to me?

“Alright, why don’t I head back with you? I gotta get some homework done, and your Wi-Fi is better than the dorm’s.” Nathan takes my empty coffee cup from my hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can.

“Thanks. Yeah, you can come over. I’m hanging with Lena later, though,” I tell him.

We’re already walking away from the event, as it’s likely going to last until the evening and neither of us are interested in sticking around that long.

College hosted events without alcohol or PDA?

Not exactly our scene. I’m the last one to be making out at a party, but there’s certainly an appeal to being able to if I want.

“You still haven’t fucked yet?” Nathan asks.

I roll my eyes. “We’ve…gone pretty far, just not all the way,” I remind him. “Not that it matters.”

“Of course it matters. She’s Lena Muzzo.” He draws out her name like she’s a Hollywood celebrity.

“Why do you even care, man?” I ask him as I lead him to my car.

Nathan laughs a big, boisterous laugh as he tries to open the passenger side door of my Jeep, but I haven’t unlocked it yet.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’ve been so uptight since you and Laura broke up in tenth grade. This is the first chick you’ve been with longer than three months. You’re exhausted from studying and always have a stick up your ass lately. You need some fuckin’ pussy.”

I unlock the car, and Nathan gets in before I do. My brow is furrowed in irritation as I get in the driver’s side and shove my key in the ignition. When I look over at him he’s grinning at me, clearly amused by my annoyance.

I put my seatbelt on and wait for him to as well.

“Shut up.”