CHAPTER 61 #2
“Then stay there and leave me—and him—the fuck alone. Otherwise, I'll use my name to ruin your family's life.”
“Wh-Who... who are you?” Lira asks, her voice shaking. “Y-You can't! I'm a Vexyan! I'm rich, and I get whatever I want, whenever I want!”
“And I'm Riven Laordie.”
I watch every ounce of color drain from Lira's face, her mouth hangs open. No sound comes out.
“So get the fuck out before I fall back into my bad habits and actually beat your ass for putting your hands on me.”
Lira scrambles to her feet, yanks the door open, and bolts into the corridor, slamming it shut behind her.
My own mouth is hanging open, I shake myself out of it and move, grab Riven by the waist, straighten her and spin her around to face me.
I don't say a word, I can't.
I just stare at her, at the confusion replacing the fury that had been burning across her face only seconds ago.
She's fucking incredible.
I could've ripped Lira's implants out. Instead, Riven dismantled the biggest brat I know with nothing but her words, her fists and her name.
“What?” she spits.
“You're going to tell me about all those bad habits...” I take another slow step toward her. “Before I drop to my knees and worship you right here.”
Her face flushes instantly, shoves me backward.
I let her, my hands fall to my side, twitching from missing the warmth of her.
A dark chuckle rumbles out of me.
“I know you want it.” I purr, closing the distance again.
“You want to know about my past?” she asks, refusing to meet my eyes.
“Yes.” I grin. “And I have a feeling those bad habits are only going to make me want to devour you even more.”
She snaps her head toward me and punches me.
I just smile.
The inside of my cheek splits beneath my teeth, blood flooding my mouth.
I barely feel it, the pain dampeners are a fucking miracle—a miracle that cost me a thousand Ghost Credits.
“You're a pervert!” She shouts, turning her back on me.
Before I can grab her and turn her back to face me, she walks over to the couch and drops onto it.
I follow.
Without asking, I dump myself beside her, shift until my head is resting on her bare thighs, cross my arms over my chest, and stretch my legs across the armrest.
“Next time you turn your back on me,” I yawn “I will rip out the towel, bend you over the back of the couch and fuck your ass.”
“The hell you will.” She looks down at me, furious.
I just smile.
“You want to bet?”
She scoffs, her blush deepening.
“Now, speak,” I order. “Make it interesting.”
She sighs and rubs her temples.
“Chop chop.” I add, deadpan.
That earns me a few seconds of being strangled and shaken in her lap.
I laugh.
When she finally lets go, she leans back into the couch, letting her head fall against the backrest.
“I’m a Laordie, right? Everything is for the city, for the people, for the image, for the credits. I wasn’t wanted. My mother wanted to get rid of me, but my father convinced her not to because it would’ve affected the Central Authority—the government—and his image there.”
Her jaw pulses.
I don’t talk for once.
“So, they never loved me, never saw me as a human being. Kyle was. But after Kyle died, I became an absolute nightmare. Being blamed, rejected by my parents my entire life, it finally exploded.”
She pauses.
“I met Charlie and Jules that same year, and we—mostly me—started fucking everything up.
For years, I got expelled from multiple academies because if someone looked at me wrong, hit me, bullied me...
or worse, one of my girls... I'd beat the shit out of them.
I'd slam their heads into lockers before dragging them down the hallway by their hair.”
My eyes widen.
“So my little troublemaker was already feral back then?” I grin. “Isn't that perfect? The monster and the troublemaker?”
“Fuck off. I hate you.” She looks away.
“Makes it even better.” I purr.
She clears her throat.
“I burned down some of my father's cars and other shit he owned. Then I got my tattoos. The one on my back is for me. The one here...”
She taps the tattoo over her chest.
“...is for Kyle.”
Her chest tattoo is for Kyle?
I thought it was just aesthetic. It's right over one of the most important places on the body.
Her heart.
I don't know why but it makes something tighten painfully inside my chest.
She grew up with more money than I could've ever dreamed of and still spent her whole life feeling alone, loved only by her brother that died in her arms, saving her and her friends.
Meanwhile, I had an awful, blood-soaked childhood but I was loved by my parents, even as fucked up my father had to make sure I survive.
My throat works around the words. Talking costs me.
I fucking hate talking.
“When I was ten, I got caught stealing from some shitty store. Enforcers picked me up and locked me alone in confinement for hours. Complete silence, for a kid raised in the constant noise of the Lower Layers, it was terrifying. Ever since, silence has been unbearable. I fight it with movement, with sound, with chaos, with anything.”
I look at her.
My jaw is clenched so hard it aches, my eyes don't leave her face.
She slowly lowers her gaze to me, her eyes are softer than I've ever seen them.
“The silence.” I grit out. “When I beg you not to let me go back to it, it's because you chase it away.”
I sit up abruptly, vault over the back of the couch, yank open my fridge, and grab a Nitro can.
I rip the tab off and drain it in one long swallow.
“It's the only thing that terrifies me.” I wipe my chin with the back of my hand. “The silence.”
I let out a rough breath, my mods are flaring. I hate feeling exposed.
Weak means death.
That’s how I was raised and how I lived my whole life.
“I never will be a soft lover, I can’t even promise you one day I won’t try to rip your heart out just to make sure you will stay with me.”
I look dead in her eyes.
“So leave. Walk the fuck away while you still can. Because I'm a fucking monster who kills for fun. And lately, I've been killing for you.”
I pant, I feel like I'm dying.
I hope she doesn’t cross the threshold, if she does, my already fucked up sanity will be erased.
She stands up, then hurls a cushion straight at my face. I dodge it.
That is absolutely not what she should've done while I'm like this, it makes my anger flare up.
A roar tears out of my throat as I lunge at her, she meets me halfway, climbs onto the back of the couch and throws herself at me, wrapping her entire body around mine.
Her stomach presses against my face through the towel. The impact makes me stumble back two full steps.
She smells like my body wash mixed with her own scent.
For a long second, I don't move.
My brain is trying to process what the fuck just happened then I drop to my knees.
I pry her away from my face, lift her, shift her effortlessly, manhandling her until she's straddling my lap, facing me.
“You’re a fucking compulsion Riven. The itch I can’t scratch. The race I can’t win. The engine noise screaming in my head long after the city goes silent.”
For a moment, she looks at me, her eyes glistening, my own throat tight with what I just fucking said.
Then she crashes her lips against mine, I melt instantly. The warmth of her lips against mine causes my heart to stop.
I can't resist, I wish I could but I simply can't.
She owns me.