Chapter 9 Dread #2
I keep trying to change it, but it's like fighting a demonic possession. Every time I try, it takes control, and I jack off to the fucking picture instead.
It's really pissing me off.
Exhaling harshly, I run an irate hand through my hair as I head toward my dorm, my thoughts spiraling into different scenarios of drawing Reverie out from her room and making her cry those pretty tears again.
I’m lost in a particular fantasy when a familiar laugh cuts through it. Same voice, but the opposite sound of what I was just imagining.
I stop short, causing someone to ram into my back. I pay them no mind as they apologize and scurry around me.
My stare has locked on to the object of all my transgressions standing before a guy I don’t recognize and laughing with him.
What. The. Fuck.
Something dark and ugly punches me in the chest before sinking toward my stomach and coiling around my organs. It burns and ravages my insides. I see red, then black.
Snarling, I charge toward the pair, insidious thoughts rising as Reverie laughs again, staring up at the fucker like he hung the moon.
I will sooner rip that goddamn rock from the sky and smash it into his face before letting her think he can even spell the fucking word.
Reverie catches sight of me once I’m a few feet away, and a shot of satisfaction powers through me when her face slackens then pales.
It’s an instant shot of heroin in my veins.
Noticing her reaction, the guy turns with a confused frown on his ugly-ass face. His stare clashes with mine, and he, too, pales.
“Nice to see you’ve come out of your grave,” I say, hardly recognizing my own voice. It’s deep and rough with fury, and every word is closer to a demonic growl than anything human.
In an instant, her face revives—from pale cheeks to bright red, and a fallen expression to one of fire and wrath. Those copper eyes glare at me from beneath her blonde bangs, injecting me with a second dose of heroin.
There’s my girl.
“Leave. Me. Alone, Dread,” she bites out through gritted teeth.
Never.
“I was just giving her notes and an assignment from class,” the guy explains, his gaze somewhere between wary and annoyed.
His mop of curly brown hair flops into his eyes, and his oversized zip-up hoodie and jeans hang on his lanky body.
I could snap him like a twig. My fingers curl into my palms with the unbidden urge.
“I’m sorry, Luke. Don’t let him bully you,” she says to the guy, resting a hand briefly on his arm. I zero in on where she dares to touch him, my fury heightening. “He’s just an insecure little boy who needs attention.”
I lift my chin to the sky, searching for some lost well inside me that houses restraint. It’s incredibly disappointing when I curl my fingers into my palms and don’t feel her dainty little neck being crushed between them.
“You know what? It’s cool. I don’t need my ass kicked over a few pieces of paper,” Luke mutters, stepping away from the two of us.
I drop my chin with a wicked laugh. “It would be over a lot more than just paper, my guy.”
Luke shakes his head, irritation twisting his features, before he turns and walks off. I’ve only just dragged my eyes back to Reverie when she’s slamming her palms into my chest, jerking me but not moving me.
“You’re such an asshole!” she shouts, instantly attracting the attention of students passing by. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
I lean down into her face, and snarl, “Why the fuck do you find him so funny?”
She blinks and shakes her head, stunned.
“Are you seriously micromanaging when I can laugh?” A short, disbelieving chuckle releases from her throat, as if to prove a point.
“You don’t control me, Dread. You don’t own me.
You are nothing to me,” she spits, those copper penny eyes turning into molten lava.
Oh my God. I just might strangle her in broad daylight.
My jaw works back and forth, and my search for restraint becomes desperate, my organs in upheaval while I scour through my insides for it.
I possess little control when my hand snaps out to pinch her chin between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her closer.
“I am your everything, Reverie,” I say, fire on my breath. “And I won’t allow you to exist without me. I’m in everything you touch. In everything you see. What you hear, taste, and smell. I am the very breath in your lungs. Because without me, you would have none of those privileges.”
A kaleidoscope of emotions flashes across her face before settling on outrage mixed with a hint of awe.
“You really believe that, don’t you?” she whispers.
She rips her chin out of my grasp and steps away, bitterness settling into the curl of her upper lip.
“Then allow me one last privilege to prove you wrong.”
She spins on her heel and charges toward a group of students loitering outside the history building. It takes a few extra seconds to process what’s happening before I quickly fall in step behind her, confused as to what the fuck she’s planning.
She reaches the group and stops before Bryan Gate, the star quarterback of HCU’s football team.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Reverie’s question is more of a demand, and one that catches Bryan off guard.
The fuck does she care about that for?
“Uh, n-no?” he answers, his brow furrowing as he flicks a bemused glance my way.
We’ve spoken to one another a few times and are amicable when we cross paths, but we’re not friends by any means.
Which means I have no fucking problem killing him should I need to.
My jaw clenches when she lifts onto her toes to whisper something in his ear. The bones in my skull are threatening to crack from the pressure when he flicks another glance at me—this one almost amused—before he gives her a simple nod.
Then she grasps either side of his head and crushes her lips to his. His friends gasp, most of them descending into laughter and whistles. My vision flickers, glimpsing his tongue swirling with hers, before snuffing completely.
Wrath has decimated everything inside me. I’m a barren wasteland after a volcanic disaster. There’s nothing left—which means there’s nothing left of my restraint.
My body moves, sounds arise, and a faint flare of pain blooms across my knuckles before fading again.
I think I hear someone cursing at me, but I can’t be entirely sure.
All five of my senses are relatively nonexistent, but I’m vaguely aware of a weight over my shoulder and repeated pressure hitting my back.
It isn’t until I’m halfway across campus and ten feet from the sports center that my senses return.
“Let me go!” Reverie screeches.
She’s flung over my shoulder, and her fists repeatedly slam into my back, but they feel like nothing more than crumpled paper balls bouncing off me.
“I would rather die,” I growl.
My hand whips across her ass, offering a minuscule release of the explosive energy built up inside me. She gasps sharply, her upper half rearing up for a moment before she relaxes and descends into another fit.
“You. Fucking. Asshole!”
If I could think properly, I might’ve basked in the feeling of spanking her. Except right now, the only thing I can appreciate is the release rather than her tight, plump ass. My hand twitches with the need to do it again, but I have enough foresight to know if I do, I won’t be able to stop.
I swing the door to the sports center open, and Reverie instantly stops screaming. It’s a massive area filled with equipment and several students lifting weights, using the treadmills, or stretching.
Many of them cast inquisitive glances our way, but I ignore them all. Meanwhile, Reverie growls insults and threats at me beneath her breath, though I don’t bother listening to half of them.
By the time I’m charging down the hallway to the public pool, she’s exhausted herself. Or rather, she’s reserving her remaining energy because she knows something is coming.
The college team has our own Olympic-sized pool, but practice isn’t until later, so it’s locked until then. As team captain, I have keys for emergencies, though Coach doesn’t care if I swim here after hours.
Anything for the Olympic prodigy.
However, the keys are in my dorm, so public pool it is.
Thankfully, there’s no one here right now. But even if there was, I'd kindly ask them to fucking leave.
The second I slam through the door, the familiar scent of chlorine fills my senses. Usually, it offers a sense of comfort, like coming home, but I’m too far gone—lost in irrationality. Reverie has a special way of driving me to dark places where my sanity struggles to survive.
“Dread, let me the fuck go,” Reverie snaps, a tinge of fear sneaking into her tone. Her struggling renews tenfold, forcing me to hold on to her tighter.
“Darling, that’s precisely what I’m planning to do,” I respond just as I reach the edge of the pool on the shallow end.
“Wait!”
I grab her hips and slide her down my body, but her thrashing becomes almost uncontrollable.
“Dread, stop!”
She fists my coat in her hands tightly, and it takes a few extra moments to detach her.
“No, no—”
I send her flying back into the shallow end of the pool.
I glimpse utter terror on her face before she splashes into the water with a shrill scream.
While she splashes about, I calmly shoulder off my jacket, kick off my shoes and socks, slide out my phone from my sweatpants pocket and toss it on the pile, then jump into the water after her.
She resurfaces, sputtering out water and frantically wiping her hair from her face. I can see the whites of her eyes, and the moment she sees me, she instantly turns and attempts to swim away. Her feet slip, and her clothes drag her down, making the attempt entirely pathetic.