Revenge Love

by Kata Čuić

  “Is that part of your act, like hating me? Or is it who you really are out there?”

  “Both,” he admits without a trace of guilt.

  A knock on the door startles me. Kieran’s voice filters through the wood. “You’ve had enough fun, Gould. I’m opening this door in ten, nine, eight…”

  Jason’s eyes widen. The moment of truth is upon us, and we’re not nearly prepared. We search the room like it might somehow offer a miraculous prop to put our less than Academy Award winning performance back in the running.

  The knob turns.

  I’ve read countless articles about split-second decisions being the difference between life and death in the medical profession. Studied them as much as any biology notes, hoping someday I could be one of those who never bats an eyelash when faced with an impossible decision. I thought I had many more years of training in front of me to hone those kinds of skills.

  My entire body trembles with fear. One glance at Jason’s equally apprehensive expression makes me choose.

  I act, throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my lips to his. The heat radiating from his bare chest seeps through my shirt. His arms band around me, molding me to him until my breasts ache from the crushing pressure. He doesn’t hesitate when I open my mouth against his, sliding his tongue with mine in a punishing rhythm. A moan reverberates in his throat, rippling through me.

  In spite of the chaos raging around me and within, I register the flavor of cinnamon.

  I know what Jason Gould tastes like.

  Behind me, Kieran clears his throat.

  Jason rips his firm lips away from mine, blinking. He slides me down his body to set me back on my feet. His unmistakable erection rasps against my stomach.

  My cheeks burn, then heat continues to lick all the way down to my toes. I’ll never have the luxury again of accusing him of being small.

  He seems to register the thoughts running through my mind. That infuriating smirk reappears on his swollen mouth. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t need to. The message dancing through his eyes is crystal clear.

  I told you so.

  “Average,” I mouth to him, just to bring him down a peg.

  He only laughs in response, mouthing in return, “Smart ass.”

  “As much as I’m happy you’re finally enjoying all the fringe benefits I can provide, it’s time to send your pretty pussy on her way. We have a fight to win.”

  My shoulders tense at Kieran’s crass dismissal. Knowing full well that’s all I ever was to him, I turn with a bright smile that isn’t the slightest bit fake. “I don’t know. I already paid the price of admission, so I thought I’d stay to watch the main event.”

  Satisfaction spreads through me at the look of shock on his face. I’m really starting to understand why everyone else is so hell-bent on revenge. It does taste pretty sweet, even though my tongue still tingles with the flavor of an unexpected kiss.

  Jason pushes past both of us without another word.

  Just before Jason reaches the door, Kieran shakes off his trance, stepping in front of him. “You can have any bitch you want. Why her?”

  “I didn’t pick her. She chose me.” A cold smile that makes me shiver further darkens his face. “Looks like I get your sloppy seconds, after all.”

  I mirror Kieran’s jolt in every cell of my body. Jason is a much better actor than I could ever hope to be. A sinking suspicion settles in the pit of my stomach when a horrifying thought dawns on me.

  How am I supposed to know which version of him is the real Jason? He’s lied to me as well as everyone else.

  Kieran directs a hard stare at me for several moments, then follows his fighter to the ring.

  Rosie finds me on the fringes of the crowd. The betting has already ended, and the fighters are circling each other in the ring. Kieran stands to the side, his arms crossed over his chest like a sentinel cursed to guard that which he hates. A clear look of disgust twists his handsome features.

  “I don’t know what you two did, but it’s working,” Rosie whispers. “I’ve never seen Kieran King look anything other than bored or morbidly excited. Never like he’s trying to start an inferno with his eyes.”

  “Yeah,” I croak. A few coughs, and maybe my voice will return to normal. My heart certainly hasn’t as it continues to gallop within the confines of my chest. “It went better than expected.”

  And worse, but Rosie doesn’t need to know that. I can’t escape the sensation of being crushed beneath an invisible weight of deceit. Intention makes no difference when in the throes of battle. Everyone bleeds the same, whether champion or adversary.

  Jason lashes out first, landing a hit to his opponent’s cheek as quick and precise as a serpent’s kiss. He dances back, waiting for the other man to get his bearings enough to rejoin.

  Rosie’s mouth drops open. “Did you actually blow him? I’ve never seen Jason fight like this.”

  “What does that mean?” I haven’t seen enough to know Jason’s usual style.

  “He usually seems to enjoy it more. All creepy smiles and laughter if the other guy manages to get a hit in. He doesn’t toy with them as much as he’s doing tonight. It’s more aggressive, less controlled than this.”

  “Maybe it’s another way to piss Kieran off?”

  Rosie nods, continuing to study the action the way I approach a dissection. “Maybe, but something feels off. He always tries to give the crowd an entertaining show. This almost feels like it’s more for him than anyone else. Like he doesn’t care anyone’s watching.”

  Her observation isn’t wrong. Even the crowd—which is much smaller than usual, thanks to my trick reveal—looks like they’re watching a boring sitcom rather than a live fight. All the chaos and excitement that was present that first night is noticeably absent. As smooth as the surface appears, there’s a crackling electricity simmering in the air, just waiting for a spark to ignite it.

  “Come on,” Jason taunts, barely even winded as he circles the edge of the ring while the other guy jabs into the air, nowhere near close to landing a hit. “If you guys are gonna sign up, at least make it worth my while.”

  “Shit,” Rosie whispers.

  “What? What’s shit?”

  “Jason never talks. He’s going completely off script.”

  There’s a script for this thing? Did I miss that memo? Are they still hiding as much from me as I am from them?

  The other fighter stops trying, going motionless in the center of the ring.

  “You done? You want me to put you out of your misery?” Jason offers.

  His shoulders slump, and he nods, not making eye contact with anyone.

  “Beg me.”

  “Gould,” Kieran hisses. “Enough.”

  Jason rolls his eyes, obviously not feeling threatened, even surrounded by an entire fraternity of unified brothers. He turns to the crowd, instead. “Did you come here for a fight or for a lame party?”

  A mix of jeers and raucous comments rain down. I didn’t expect Jason to provide the incendiary for the night, beyond winning.

  “Gimme someone else,” Jason yells back to the increasingly anxious crowd. “I’ll even pay the fee myself.”

  “Shit, shit!” Rosie clamps a death grip on my arm. “What is he doing?”

  I shrug, too busy marveling over this stranger who looks and sounds like Jason Gould. He’s all confidence and swagger, controlling his situation instead of watching life pass him by from the fringes. My only concern from the beginning of this game has been all the ways each of us can lose. I never once considered anything good could be gained from it.

  Looking at him now, I might have been mistaken.

  After some shuffling and spur-of-the-moment Phi Kappa discussion, a new opponent takes the loser’s place.

  He’s taller than Jason, without the same type of muscle tone but still built in a way that suggests he’s athletic and up for the challenge. He peels off his shirt, throwing it to the side of the basement filled with
lusty eyes.

  The girl next to me licks her lips. “Is anyone else fantasizing about being sandwiched between those two hard bodies?”

  On my other side, Rosie nods.

  “You’re a lesbian,” I mutter.

  She never takes her eyes off the shirtless men. “How many times in real life do you see something like this, though? I might not enjoy them in me as much as she would, but I can still appreciate the male form in its finest state. And those are two very fine specimens.”

  Any further discussion is cut off when Jason lunges for the newcomer. He makes first contact. I avert my eyes as blood sprays those with a front row view.

  “He’s a machine,” Rosie mumbles, her tone laced in awe.

  Worried she might mean the other guy, I glance up, expecting to find Jason getting his ass handed to him. Instead, Jason knocks his opponent to the ground, straddles him, then rains down a hail of terror on the defenseless man.

  A couple of the Phi Kappas pull him off when it’s clear the fight is over.

  Jason swipes blood from his mouth, smiling down at the motionless form. “That’s more like it.”

  Rosie pushes me back toward the adjoining tutoring room. “Come on. I hope you brought more supplies.”

  Jason’s holding cell is nothing like the first time I was here. Rosie has to force her way through the pack of women, dragging me along behind her. When we finally reach Jason, he’s sprawled out on a chair. Multiple hands swirl the sweat and blood on his canvas of a body. The rush of my pulse in my ears creates a steady thump which blocks out all their murmured words.

  “Feeling proud of yourself, are you?” Rosie stands a safe distance away from the soon-to-be orgy, crossing her arms over her chest with an unmistakable look of displeasure.

  “You didn’t like it?” For his part, Jason looks like a king on his throne, thoroughly enjoying the worship of his loyal subjects. “I thought I did well with what I had to work with.”

  One of the women, I think she’s an Omega sister, thrusts a cup at him which he takes with a leering smile. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drains it. “Thanks, gorgeous. Get me another?”

  I want to ask if it’s always like this, but I also don’t want to hear the answer. Discomfort builds in my muscles the longer I stare, taking in the scene around me. I feel like a voyeur who snuck into the peep show without paying.

  I’m an outsider in my own skin. The sensation my body belongs in the writhing mass of theirs, giving into the animal lust in the air, wars with the realization I’m at the bottom of this food chain. While some of the women work together to get a piece of the pie, most of them fight their way to the front lines for a chance to graze the muscles on display. Even Rosie gives into the call, gravitating toward the fray as if she’s tethered to their magnetism.

  Jason never graces me with his gaze. Not even a smirky glare. Nothing.

  Remembering my purpose, I study him for any signs of serious injury or uncontrolled bleeding. It’s hard to see through the crush of women surrounding him.

  A decidedly larger body bumps into me. It’s Kieran.

  “Here’s your cut.” He thrusts a surprisingly large stack of bills at Jason, who manages to grab his winnings in spite of all the extra limbs in his way. “I’m not sure whether to punch you or kiss you myself. That was a nice save tonight.”

  King Jason seems to revel in the praise from his Emperor. “I know.”

  Kieran just shakes his head and directs his attention to me. “Do you need anything?”

  “Excuse me?”

  An expression I’ve never seen before softens his eyes. “A drink? A clear route out of here?”

  I school my features as best I can, but inside I’m questioning his agenda. “Actually, I need to check Jason’s jaw. If you want him in top fighting shape every weekend, his injuries can’t wait. Can you clear the room?”

  Kieran barks out a laugh. “I could no sooner disband this coven than I could raise the dead. Feeling a little discarded, are you?”

  I don’t know which stings worse—the reminder of the woman I couldn’t replace or the insinuation I’m in the same situation as ever.

  He leans down until his warm breath fans over my neck. “What does a woman like you see in a loser like that? This is as good as life will ever be for him. If you have an itch, don’t look in the gutter for someone to scratch it. You deserve better.”

  My mother’s words ring in my ears. I almost want to tell him she said the exact same thing about him.

  Without any answer from me, Kieran returns his gaze to Jason. “You good? I’m heading out for the night.”

  Jason winks at us. It’s as slimy as possible. “Enjoy my leftovers, but don’t expect too much. You really didn’t break her in as well as you could have.”

  Kieran sucks in a sharp breath, then wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go, sweet thing. Leave the wannabes to their dumpster fire.”

  Two things strike me at that moment: One, Kieran has never graced me with a pet name, not even in the throes of ecstasy. Two, even a dumpster fire could warm me better than his gentle touch.

  Lie: Love yourself and others will follow.

  The time on my phone reads eleven after one in the morning. I wish for a new bed. My soft cotton sheets have morphed into sandpaper. The comforter insulates my body heat until I can’t suffer the sweat on my skin anymore and kick it off. My previously comfortable mattress doesn’t cradle my body the way it should.

  I’m frustrated, anxious, and can’t see a light at the end of this tunnel.

  Rosie and Jason are otherwise occupied, so it’s highly unlikely anyone will invade my space. With a deep breath that does nothing to relieve my current predicament, I reach into the top drawer of my nightstand for my trusty vibrator.

  I’ve been so preoccupied with more pressing matters the past few weeks, I haven’t even had the awareness to realize what I’ve been missing. It’s no wonder I’m so stressed out. Regular orgasms are good for mental health. They release serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin, and a whole slew of other good-for-you chemicals into the body.

  I’m so on edge, I don’t bother stripping my tank. I go for the gold, sliding my hand beneath the waistband of my panties, aiming straight for the sweet spot instead of working myself up with a slow, gradual build. It should be better this way. At least I know the clitoris exists and where to find mine. The sensation feels as good as before, but something’s missing. I can’t turn off my brain enough to enjoy the pleasure.

  This is exactly why I prefer another warm body to BOB. When I’m with someone, I concentrate on making it enjoyable for them. There’s no brain space left for anything else. I focus on reading the subtle cues, the physical hints of what feels good and what doesn’t.

  All I can focus on now is how that was never enough to satisfy Kieran for longer than an hour, tops.

  A smile stretches my lips, and my limbs relax a little more as I remember the way his jaw dropped when I bid him a goodnight at my door. He was so sure I needed him to rescue me from the poor treatment of big, bad Jason.

  “Did you think you were any different? Better, maybe? It’s not you, Kieran. It’s me. Now I choose who uses me.”

  I’m so close, but I can’t get there. Something’s still in the way, no matter how fast I stroke or how much pressure I apply. Even BOB’s highest setting isn’t getting the job done.

  There’s a simmering hurt beneath my armor. The feeling of being cast aside like no more than a plaything. I’m still a pawn, only the game is much bigger and with more salient consequences. I entered into this willingly, knowing exactly what I was getting myself into.

  I’m not a quitter, though. If I have to work all night, I will reign victorious.

  I let my mind wander to the scene after the fight. All the bodies competing for a singular goal. Their faces are a blur of human-like features, but it’s the way they move like a living, breathing entity that makes my breath catch in my throat. So much skin, sweat, and lust filling t
he air, struggling for a chance at relief, reward, recognition of being the optimum candidate to fulfill any man’s desire.

  In a perfect world, which exists only in my mind, that woman is me. The throng disperses, realizing they can’t compete. My hands are free to explore every plane, valley, and summit. The soft trail of hair leading from his navel to the prize beneath his pants feels incongruously soft compared with the hardness of his abdomen. His sweaty skin smells like all man—tangy, salty, with just a hint of cinnamon. Perfectly placed nipples the size of half dollars and the color of freshly kissed lips beg for my tongue.

  My legs shake as I lick those spicy pebbles until a moan fills the air. The sound is deep and gravelly enough to send vibrations through my heavy breasts. I squeeze with one hand, trying to relieve the ache there as my other hand moves faster, pressure building at my center until–

  “Emma?” A shout shatters my impending euphoria. “Are you okay?”

  I scream, throwing the only thing I have handy toward the intruder in my doorway.

  “What the hell?” He gapes at me, sprawled out on my bed in a compromising position, my legs spread, my tank pulled up, my panties askew. Then, he glances at the floor to where my weapon bounced off his chest to rest. If I wasn’t dying a slow, torturous death, it would be funny the way the gears click into place for him. “Fuck! Shit! I’m sorry!”

  The door slams behind him.

  I really need to get that key back.

  I listen for any sound beyond the bedroom as my cheeks burn with mortification. A quick glance at the floor confirms my worst fear. BOB lays shattered, his batteries scattered about on the carpet.

  Great. In addition to not getting off, I’ll have to mail-order a new vibrator. It will be at least two weeks until Mom puts more money in my account, so I can afford to replace him.

  Minutes that seem like a small eternity creep by. No noise filters to my ears. Jason must have fled the scene of the crime. My heart rate slows, and the sweat evaporates from my skin, leaving me chilled and hollow-feeling.