30. Dre
Chapter thirty
Dre
" W hat the fuck?"
The air is tight, thick with a tension that seems to pulse against my skin as I stand by the door of my snowflake's bedroom. It's an ordinary door, or it should be. But something's off—my gut twists, knowing before my hand even reaches for the knob.
There's no lock. How can there be no lock? It's a question that echoes in my mind, a silent scream that finds voice when my fingers curl around the cold metal.
"Come on," I mutter under my breath, willing it to give way. But when I turn, there's resistance. The damn thing is locked. And not from the inside. What the actual fuck?
A growl rumbles up from deep within me—a dark sound that's all too familiar. It's the sound of every twisted part of my existence, every mark on my skin, coming to life.
"Snowflake," I say, turning sharply towards her. My voice slices through the quiet of the room. "What's going on here?"
She’s standing a few paces away, her blonde hair like a halo of moonlight, but there's nothing celestial about the look in her green eyes. They're wide, guarded, a fortress of secrets I'm hell-bent on breaching.
"Nothing, Dre," she replies, her voice too even, too composed. It doesn't match the rapid rise and fall of her chest that I can see even from this distance.
"Nothing?" I step closer, the floorboards creaking beneath my boots, a slow march of dread and anger. "You expect me to believe that?"
"Believe what you want," she counters, her chin tilting up defiantly, but there's a tremor in her stance that belies her strong front.
"Believe what I—Addy, your door locks from the outside." My hand slices through the air, pointing back at the absurdity behind me. "That's not just some quirky house feature. That's something else entirely."
"Drop it, Dre," she says, but it's too late. I’ve seen the flicker of something in her eyes, a shadow that passes too quickly for me to decipher.
"Like hell I will." I’m close enough now to reach out and touch her, to maybe shake the truth out of her, but I clench my fists instead, keeping them by my sides. She's been through enough; I won't be another person who uses force on her. But that doesn’t mean I’ll just let this slide. "Who put the lock there, Snowflake?"
Her lips press into a thin line, and I can see the muscles in her jaw clench. She’s holding back, building walls I’m determined to tear down.
"Who, Snowflake?" I repeat, my voice barely more than a whisper now, yet it feels like it could shatter the world—or at least the walls between us.
Her eyes dart to the space behind me, seeking an escape I can't let her find. Heat curls in my belly, a dangerous mix of anger and something else as I push for answers.
"Where do you think you're going?" Chess's voice is low, almost playful, but there's an edge to it that resonates with my own frustration. He steps into her path, his hands finding her hips with an easy familiarity that makes my jaw tighten.
"Chess," she breathes, her voice a mixture of warning and weary resignation.
"Stay still, Addy," he commands gently, yet firmly enough that she can't ignore his grip. I close the distance between us until we're nearly touching. The air crackles with tension, thick and suffocating.
"Tell me about the lock, Snowflake," I demand, my fingers ghosting over her pulse point at her neck. It's a vulnerable spot, a reminder of the fragility beneath her steely facade. I'm tempted to squeeze, to coerce the truth from her unwilling lips, but I hold back—barely.
"Stop it, Dre," Saint's voice rumbles from somewhere nearby, heavy with disapproval. "You're better than that."
"Better than what? Wanting to know why she's caged like some damn animal?" My words are sharp, a blade poised at the heart of this mystery.
"Back off!" Addy snaps, her green eyes flashing with a fire that tells me I've pushed too far. "You don't understand. If they hear—"
"Who, Snowflake?" I cut her off, the urgency clawing at my insides. "Who will hear?"
"Everyone!" Her voice is a whip-crack in the silence. "And then we'll all be in trouble, not just me. Is that what you want, huh? To drag everyone down with your need to play anti-hero?"
I reel back as if she's slapped me. She's right; this isn't just about me or her—it's about all of us. But that doesn't mean I can just let this go.
"Damn it, Snowflake." My hand falls away from her neck, leaving an invisible mark where my fingers yearn to press. "I just want to keep you safe."
"Safe?" A bitter laugh escapes her, and she looks away. "That's a luxury I gave up on a long time ago, Dre. Maybe it's time you did too."
"Watch the door," I murmur to Saint, my breath a hot whisper against the shell of my snowflake's ear. The room feels too small, the air charged with something feral, something desperate. I lean in closer, her scent—vanilla and defiance—making my head swim.
"Draven, what are you—" she starts, but I silence her with a nip to her earlobe, feeling her body tense against mine. Behind her, Chess's hands tighten on her hips.
"Shh, just... let me." My voice is a low growl as Chess lets out a stifled sound, an acknowledgment of the tension coiling tight within him. Heat radiates from my snowflake's skin as my lips trace the elegant line of her neck, each kiss a promise and a provocation.
Saint shifts by the door, his dark eyes flickering with an emotion he's too guarded to reveal. "This isn't right, Dre," he says, though his voice lacks conviction.
"Nothing about this is right," I shoot back, not breaking contact with my snowflake's flushed skin. My fingers dance up her side, ghosting over the fabric of her shirt until I find the curve of her breast. The world narrows to her quickened pulse beneath my touch, the sharp intake of her breath a melody that drowns out Saint's protests.
"Please," she whispers, a word that could be a plea or a command—I don't care which. Her vulnerability, wrapped in steel and thorns, draws me in like gravity. She's fire and ice and everything that threatens to burn me alive.
"Snowflake..." I say her name like a prayer or a curse, tasting the power she holds over me, over all of us. My hand rests over her heart, feeling it beat wildly against my palm. It's a rhythm that matches my own—a drumbeat of longing, of danger, of things left unsaid.
The pulse in her throat hammers against my mouth, a silent scream as my lips trail fire down my neck.
"Stop," she gasps, shoving against my chest with hands that tremble from anger or fear—I can't tell anymore. But I'm relentless, my grip firm, my mouth insistent as I bite her bottom lip and kiss her hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs.
My hand slides lower, seeking, finding, and I know what's coming before it happens. I can feel the hardness of Chess's body pressed tight against my snowflake's back. I rub my fingers along his erection before turning my hand and squeezing. Chess lets out a pained groan that vibrates through the both of us.
"Dammit, Dre..." Chess's voice is a hoarse whisper against her hair, his breath hot and desperate.
She shoves harder at my chest. "Stop it," she spits, pushing back with all the force she has. I hold tight, but she doesn't stop shoving at me. "You held a knife to me as a threat to the little prick who thinks he owns me."
For a moment, my eyes flicker with something like remorse, or maybe it's just surprise. "He doesn't, though. Does he?"
"No. You do," She shoves me back and this time I go. Her eyes turn to Saint over my shoulder. "Fantastic negotiation skills. Bought me fair and square."
"That's not—"
"No? Then what is it? Because that's exactly what it feels like. A pig purchased for slaughter by a different butcher is still a pig."
"Snowflake," I wrap my hands around her waist and step back into her body.
"Kissing you is the last thing I want." Her words are barbed wire, meant to wound, to keep me at bay.
"Snowflake."
"No, you don't get to 'Snowflake' me after that." My heart thrashes against my ribs, caged and desperate for escape. "Not after everything."
But, she's wrong. She's mine. Mine. Mine . And, I'll show her.
"Easy, Snowflake," I murmur against her skin, the edge of my voice dulled into something akin to tenderness. I don't stop; my lips trail a path of feigned contrition along her jawline, brushing whispers that don't match the firm insistence of my touch.
She wants to recoil, to reclaim the space between us, but there's Chess at her back, a solid presence trapping her. "Dre, please," she gasps, her voice quivering with a cocktail of fear and an inexplicable thrill.
"Shh," I soothe, my hand traveling up to cup her face, thumb caressing her cheek as though we're merely lovers locked in a sweet exchange. My blue eyes lock onto her green, glacial and burning all at once. "You need to relax. Let us show you how good this can be."
"Chess," I says, the command low and unyielding, "kiss her."
The hesitation behind her is palpable; even Chess, with his usual easy charm, seems uncertain now. But he wants this. When his lips tentatively press against the exposed curve of her neck, it's a spark to dry tinder. She shudders, caught in the crossfire of dread and desire.
"Isn't it better when you stop fighting?" My voice is a velvet darkness, seductive and menacing.
I know she wants to push away, scream, do anything but melt between the two of us. But she stops fighting and gives herself over to us.
"Addy," Chess's breath is warm, his hesitation giving way to a more assertive exploration as if inspired by my boldness, or perhaps just lost in the moment as much as I am.
"Stop thinking," I instruct, my lips finding hers again, insistent, demanding surrender.
Her hands, once pushing against my chest, now cling to me, nails digging into the fabric of my shirt as if she could tear through the layers and find the truth of me beneath.
"Let go, Snowflake. Just feel," I breathe against her mouth. She tastes like ice and cherries and I want more, I need more.
Chess pulls away, his eyes are wide and full of the same fire that possesses me. His lips find mine with a raw intensity that threatens to consume us.
Snowflake’s eyes widen as the heat between us builds, seeming to spark a fire within her too. Her lips part slightly as I pull back, my lips curling into an easy smile. I lean forward to capture her lips once more, but Saint's voice cuts through the tension.
"Enough," he demands. But the rasp of his voice gives him away. He wants a piece of her too. Why wouldn't he? My snowflake is fucking perfection.
"We need to go."
Snowflake's eyes flick from me to Saint to Chess, her gaze searching. I lean in and capture her lips in another kiss before I nod, reluctantly releasing my snowflake from our passionate embrace. My hand lingers on her throat, feeling the rapid thud of her pulse.
Chess steps back, his breath ragged, and I can see the desire burning in his eyes. I'll be taking care of him before the night is out.
We climb back out the window and skulk back to the car. As Saint pulls away from the curb, leaving my snowflake behind, I make my intentions known.
"I want her. I'm not giving her up."