Epilogue 1 — Preston
THREE WEEKS LATER
I’m so annoyed and offended right now.
It’s one thing to be shot and for the whole team to butcher my championship and bragging rights, but it’s another thing entirely when I don’t get to play for months.
Meaning season finito for me.
Goodbye, my college hockey career. You were fun while you lasted.
Everyone better remember the absolute legend that is the league’s prince.
Now, I’m reduced to a mere spectator with Vee and her sister, Depeche Mode.
We just finished watching a game where Marcus was simply an attention whore.
Does he have to look so hot while being rugged, sweaty, and a violent machine? Jude and Kane targeted him like crazy the entire time. Vee, the supposed “pacifist,” was screaming with excitement whenever Jude checked him.
Big man better count his days.
Listen, I don’t like Marcus checking Jude, but I totally don’t like it the other way around either.
The prick didn’t seem too bothered, though. Every once in a while, he would stare at me. Once, he pointed at me after he scored, and Vee thought he was taunting me.
He wasn’t.
Last night, he fucked me slowly—he’s only ever done that recently, no matter how much I tell him I’m feeling fine.
“You’re not fine. The doctor said no exertion,” he said, pulling me to the crook of his arm.
That’s where I’ve fallen asleep every night since I was discharged from the hospital. In the crook of his arm, kissing his throat softly or biting it, because I’m a vampire that way.
As I was nibbling on his neck, he said that if he wins tonight, I should move in with him full-time. Not in his mom’s house, but another place.
Only the two of us.
“Just because my highness isn’t out there doesn’t mean you can win. You’re underestimating Kane and Jude.”
“You’re underestimating how far I’d go to have you all to myself, baby,” he whispered in my ear, then bit down on the shell.
Apparently, I’m the one underestimating Marcus’s resolve after all. Despite Kane and Jude’s prowess and double-team effort, Marcus ends the game with one final goal just as the buzzer echoes in the air.
Talk about goal-oriented.
The spectators clap for the Vipers’ legendary performance. It was a challenging game, mainly because Marcus was every-fucking-where.
Yes, he has that type of inhuman stamina.
And even though I’m in the mood to bitch at our team for losing, I’m more distracted by the sight of him.
“Pres, you coming?” Vee asks me as Daphne grabs her arm.
“You go ahead.” I grin. “Meet you outside, Auntie Vee.”
She smiles. “That will never stop sounding a bit weird.”
“Hey, listen, Jude keeps taunting me that when he marries you, he’ll be my uncle, and that’s cruel. Weird is better than cruel. Just saying.”
She bites the corner of her lip. “He said that?”
“Sure did. Wait for that ring.” I point at her sister. “No ring for you, Denise.”
She flips me off with a smile. “Nobody cares about your opinion.”
“Joke’s on you, everyone does.” I flip her back, grinning. Vee, being Vee, smiles and pulls her sister away before we start our cat-and-mouse fight.
As the rest of the crowd filters out, I stare at Marcus, who’s being hugged and patted on the shoulder and put in a headlock by his teammates.
Those little bitches better get their hands off of him. Now.
Okay, I’m cool. I’m calm. I won’t actually cut their heads off in their sleep.
Probably.
I can’t really help these bouts of intense possessiveness whenever I see others touching him. The only ones who get a pass are June—who threw a literal party once she knew I was alive—and maybe Miley.
But even that little shit is pushing it since she keeps insisting that she’ll marry him one day. So much audacity in such a little body.
I will marry him, not her.
Not now…but, you know, one day. When I get better, and I’m not terrified I’ll hurt him in his sleep.
The nightmares are still there, but they’re not as frequent or intense. I still find it challenging to relax entirely at night, but Marcus is extremely good at distraction. And I mean, a fucking professional.
He’ll either lay me down and fuck me slow and raw, or he’ll rub our cocks together, take my cock in his mouth, or eat my ass until I’m screaming.
The man I love has lots of tricks up his sleeve.
And I’m seriously murderous at the idea of others having experienced that.
There were people before me who had him—his embrace, his smiles, his affectionate touch that makes me want to get better.
And now, as I watch him, I can’t help the flutter in my stomach.
Marcus looks like flames in the Wolves’ orange gear, though he’s already unstrapped his chest protector, his jersey clinging to his muscles with sweat.
His damp hair is pushed back, gloves off, tape still clinging to his wrists, and face flushed with exertion.
Just like that, I get a flashback of his expression as he hovered over me while pushing deep inside me last night.
“Be a good boy and stroke your cock for me, baby,” he whispered in a hot command.
And now, other people get to see a similar face? Fine. He doesn’t have the heated look in his eyes, and his lips aren’t parted, murmuring the crudest things to me, but still.
As his teammates pull him away, he lifts his head up, and, upon seeing me, his mouth pulls in a wide grin, and he winks.
The prick actually winks.
Is it supposed to feel as if an arrow is slicing through my heart?
Shit’s dangerous. Need to ask my new bestie, Dr. Fenwick, why the fuck do I wake up every day feeling more in love with this guy than the day before?
It’s the food, isn’t it? He puts some love potion in there, and I can’t help but go back like some addict.
I suppose I’m more attached to him since we reunited due to one simple reason—I’m not wasting any time away from him anymore.
It’s why I hug him tight and go find him any chance I get. The moment I hug him feels like going home. Not only does he ground me and quiet the chaos inside me, but I also want to make it up to him.
Marcus might have forgiven me, but I know he was mad and especially hurt by my “death.” And I’ll do everything in my power so he never feels that way again.
Ever.
With a sigh, I leave the stands and head to the Vipers’ locker room. Naturally, I receive the welcome of warriors. The team members slap me on the back and say they would’ve won if I’d been there.
“Naturally. You bitches are butchering the championship I worked so hard for. My ego is dying.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have gotten shot.” Jude kicks me as he heads to his locker, a towel wrapped around his middle.
“Kaaane! Jude just kicked a patient.” I hold our captain by the shoulder, and yup, he’s already the first one dressed. “Punch him for me.”
“Your limbs work just fine.”
“You’re right.” I kick Jude back, and he nearly falls because he’s pulling his jeans up. “I told Vee to go home because you’re busy tonight.”
He slams the locker closed, then spins around to face me. “Fuck is wrong with you, Pres?”
“Today or in general?” I grin.
Jude releases a long sigh. “You just said that to piss me off.”
“Amazing deduction skills. Brownie points for my man Callahan!”
Yes, I’m petty because he checked Marcus too much for my liking tonight, but I can’t threaten him with bodily harm if he touches Marcus again, because, well, they don’t know about us.
Sure, they know I’ve been busy lately, especially at night, but they think it’s because of therapy and spending time with Dad and Miley.
Not sure they’d accept the simple explanation I came up with: “So, my bros, I’m fucking Marcus on the regular, have been for months, actually. Any questions?”
Which is ridiculous. Dad knows. June knows. Even Andrew knows. I shouldn’t be this apprehensive about Jude and Kane finding out as well.
I am, though.
They’ve only ever seen me with girls, and the coming-out bit is kind of freaking me out a little.
What if they take it badly?
Kane is more pragmatic, and his uncle is in a gay relationship with a much younger dude. First one in Vencor to get away with it, but this is me we’re talking about.
Jude and Kane saw me with that teacher. They probably think I’d be disgusted with anything gay, which I convinced myself I was for years.
Until Marcus came in and I was finally able to face my own sexuality, take it back, accept it, and come to peace with it.
I’m probably bi or something like that. I still find women attractive, and I’m not attracted to other men aside from Marcus. I don’t think I’ll ever allow anyone to touch me the way Marcus does.
I will never trust anyone the way I trust him.
Most importantly, in reclaiming my sexuality, I stopped being just a victim.
Like Mom said in the dream—I’m a survivor.
I’m not what happened to me; I’m who I choose to be.
Still, I can’t be like, “Yo, guys. I actually love dick. Marcus’s dick, to be more precise. Let’s all be friends?”
Yeah, right.
Not going to happen. At least, not now. Need to think of a better way to broach the subject.
“You joining us at the club?” Kane asks me. “The team could use some entertainment.”
“I’m not your clown.”
“You sure are,” he says, deadpan.
“Juuuude!”
“You are, Pres.” He flicks me on the forehead. “The best clown around.”
“Pay me for keeping your life interesting, bitches.” I flip them off. “I’ll see you later.”
“You’re not coming?” Kane asks.
“I’ll check my calendar!” I singsong as I leave the locker room.
I’m totally not going. I have better plans that include being railed into the nearest surface and cuddling all night long.
My steps are light as I head to the parking lot where I agreed to meet Marcus after everyone leaves.
I asked him to park his bike in a hidden spot only Jude knows, because he puts his motorcycle there sometimes.
Soft yellow light brightens the area as I lean against the bike, my legs crossed, and check my phone.
My lips curl when I find a text he sent when I was with the guys.
Marcus
You look hot. Also, you’re moving in with me tomorrow.
Me
You didn’t have to go all out during the game. I would’ve moved in even if you lost.