by Kent, Rina
“Yeah, I learnt that the hard way.” I jerk my head away from him and take a long swig of my water. But even the cold liquid doesn’t soothe my burning insides.
“About the second time…” he speaks in a low tone. “If I had a repeat, I would’ve done it differently.”
My gaze snaps to his, expecting to find mockery, but there’s only that hardened light blue gaze.
The fire that’s been brewing inside me weans down in one brutal go.
“Is that an… apology?”
He says nothing. Instead, he flops beside me, crowding my space and filling my nostrils with his sinful masculine, clean scent.
It’s crazy how much he exudes self-confidence. It’s like an inseparable part of who he is.
What he is.
Does he ever question himself?
He’s everything I’m not and I hate him for it.
I hate how much he can get under my skin when I’m supposed to push him the hell away.
“What’s that?” He motions at my other side.
I scramble to close the sketchpad before he can catch a full glimpse of himself on that drawing.
“Shouldn’t you be leaving?” I jerk my chin at him.
“Shouldn’t you be more hospitable?” he shoots back with a slight tilt in his lips.
“I hate you, Levi. The mere sight of you makes me want to throw up. You already proved your point, and I’m done playing, so leave me the hell alone.” I’m panting after my outburst, but I keep my chin high.
“You’re done, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s not worth it anymore.”
“Here’s the thing, princess. You might be done…” His lips inch impossibly close to my ear until hot breaths tickle along my skin. “But I’m not.”
A shudder draws down my spine at the rumble of his voice coupled with the heat of his words.
My grip tights on the bottle of water as if I’m stopping my hands from doing something. What, I don’t know.
“What the hell do you want from me?” I’m glad my voice doesn’t crack like my insides.
“Your fire.” His lips graze the lobe of my ear and a zap of shivers shoot through my body. “Your fight.” His voice drops to a low, tingles-inducing range. “Your everything.”
His arm wraps around my midsection, drawing me to the curve of his side as if I’ve always belonged there.
As if this is the most natural place to be.
I briefly close my eyes at his contagious body-warmth. It’s like being thrown into a fire pit and enjoying every second of the burn.
How can a cold, merciless psycho have such warmth?
I’m too hazy to think straight, but then I remember how much I hate said psycho. That not twenty-four hours ago, he drove me to the edge of insanity. He can’t erase that by pretending to pull me back to safety.
Someone like Levi King doesn’t save others. He only gives them the illusion and makes them believe they’re out of danger. When they fall for the trick, he pushes them off the cliff all over again.
A king doesn’t sacrifice himself. The poor pawns do.
I might have retreated, but I will not be a pawn.
Eyes snapping open, I push him and all the devilish things he’s inciting in my body away, and jump to my feet.
He chuckles as if I just told him the funniest joke.
“I’m warning you. Stay the hell away from me, Levi,” I growl.
All humour disappears from his face as he slowly rises to his feet. “I told you, I don’t listen well to warnings, princess.”
“Something is so wrong with you.”
He reaches out a forefinger and taps my nose twice. “Guess you have to fight me and find out what that something is.”
I jerk away from him, but that only makes him smirk in that infuriating, provoking way.
“That won’t happen.”
“Won’t happen, huh? Do you want a bet?”
“Screw you, Levi.” I fold my arms over my chest.
“I’d be happy to if you stop running away like a coward.” With one last tilt of his head, he saunters out of the door like it’s his damn house.
Blood wooshes in my veins as I flop down on the chair.
I will not be provoked by him. I will not be provoked by him...
Too late.
I’m totally murdering Dan for this. He’ll be my scapegoat.
With one last exasperated breath, I snatch my sketchpad. I’m so going to rip the drawing I made for him to pieces.
My mouth hangs open.
Levi’s sketch is gone.
16
Levi
There’s no place for a princess on the chessboard, but she barges in anyway.
* * *
After the discussion of tomorrow’s formation, Coach leaves us to shower and head home. It’s the first game of the season and team spirit is at its highest.
You have to be blind to not notice that Aiden, Xander, Cole, and Ronan brought a new spirit to the team. Even I can’t deny that their connected team play improved our middle and front lines. It’s rare to find second years as starters, but the four of them have proved themselves indispensable to the team.
Once we’re gone, they’ll have a stellar senior year ahead. If we win this year’s championship, there’s a high chance they’ll repeat it next year, too.
For the first time in RES’s history.
If anyone can pull it off, then it’s Aiden. The guy has no relationship with failure.
The team members slap each other on the back on their way to the showers, joking and talking about pussy and partying.
I don’t feel it.
Any of it.
It’s like I’m caught in a vicious, black cycle of my own making that I can’t penetrate.
Coach pulled me aside yesterday to inform me that Premier League scouts will show up during this season. He believes I can make it to one of the big ones, but even Coach said the dreadful, ‘If your family is good with it’ line.
Uncle made it blunt and clear that there will be no professional football playing, and even if I do get recruited by one of the Premier League’s titans, Uncle has the power to blacklist me from any team that matters.
When you have King Entreprises at the palm of your hands, anything can be done with a push of a button.
My long, distant football dream isn’t the only thing that’s fucking up my mood.
I’m thinking too much, calculating too much, and partying too much. I’m not getting enough sleep. Sometimes, I wake up just to find out I’m still dreaming.
All of that is terrifyingly similar to a certain someone who shall not be named.
I take a quick shower, indulging some of the guys. Once we’re out and changing our clothes, Ronan says, “Party at my place?”
“No.” I scold. “Game night, no partying.”
“Naw, come one, Captain.” Ronan throws a punch in the air. “We can kill them Newcastle losers even when we’re drunk.”
The others yell and shout, pumping their chests.
“No partying and no getting drunk on game night,” I say in a deadly tone, making them all grow silent. “Do I have to repeat myself?”
“No, Captain.” A few of the juniors answer and the others nod.
“Guess I have to settle with one pussy. Merde!” Ronan rolls his eyes. “The sacrifices I have to make for the team.”
“How is that a sacrifice?” Cole asks.
“Cole, mate, when I throw a party, I get at least two pussies and a blowjob as a thank you. Now, I’m stuck with only Chloe.”
“You’re tapping that now?” Xander unwraps his towel and shoves his feet into his boxer briefs. “I thought she had eyes for Captain.”
“He threw her off his lap last week like a bad habit.” Ronan frowns. “I don’t know why girls think I’m cool with sloppy seconds.”
“Because you are?” Cole asks.
“You fuck anything with a skirt?” Xander chimes in.
“That’s not true!
” Ronan protests.
“Mate,” Xander flings an arm over his shoulder. “How many times did you go to console a girl after she’s been rejected just to end up between her legs?”
“Hey, fou.” Ronan throws his hands around. “Sex is the best form of consolation.”
“Right.” Cole mocks. “Of course.”
It’s no use telling him that Chloe still texts me, practically begging me to meet her. He wouldn’t care and neither do I.
None of these girls stir anything in me anymore. For them, I’m just a stepping stone so they’d say they fucked King. The captain. The local star.
They’ve always been nothing, so it feels like nothing when I ignore them.
Besides, they’re not the ones who have been getting my dick hard since that night a week ago.
Maybe I really am sick.
“Yo, King,” Chris whispers from my right.
I leave the guys bickering and lean closer to Chris as I button my shirt.
“I checked with my old man and that girl’s father didn’t drop the case,” he murmurs. “We should teach her a lesson this time.”
I shake my head.
“But they will…”
“We’re only under jeopardy if she remembers and she doesn’t.”
Chris taps his foot, watching his surroundings before he hisses, “If she does, we’re done for.”
“She won’t. It’s in my hands now. Drop it.”
That night when Astrid has looked at me with teary, wrenched eyes, searching for a soul I don’t have, I didn’t sleep.
And in that sleepless night, I came up with a different tactic. If the problem is her memory, then I’ll take of that instead of taking care of her.
“We should threaten to rape her,” Chris mutters. “Maybe the bitch will understand to back off this time.”
One moment, Chris is talking, the next, I’m throwing him against the lockers with my arm against his fucking throat. He wheezes, face reddening as he struggles. I tighten my arm, cutting off his air supply.
“You won’t get near her, touch her, or even fucking look at her,” I snarl against his face as his eyes bulge. “When I say to drop it, you. Fucking. Drop. It.”
Scratchy noises escape his throat and his colour turns from red to blue. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I recognise that he’s suffocating and that I’ve relayed my message and should let him go, but the unhinged part wants to see the life drain from his face drop by bloody drop.
“Let him go, Lev.” Aiden clutches my arm and it’s then I realise that a few more of the team are pulling me away from Chris.
Or trying to.
I release him and he slides to the ground, coughing and clutching his throat.
Aiden’s brows furrow as he watches me with that calculative spark.
I’m known to not get worked up on the team, so this must be putting Aiden’s mind into a loop.
“Don’t fucking show up here again unless you plan to snatch your place back,” I bark at Chris and storm out of the locker room.
I need a long drive and a smoke. Or a few.
It’d be best if I don’t go back home tonight. Jonathan's face is the last thing I need to see.
Murderous energy looms over my head like a thick fog with no way out.
In the car park, I stop when I spot a petite figure lingering near the exit, right under the bulb.
She must be waiting for Daniel.
Earbuds in, Astrid has a sketchpad in her hands with her brows drawn. There’s a slight twist to her upper lip when she’s in full concentration. It’s adorable.
Adorable.
Fuck. I don’t remember the last time I ever thought of something as adorable.
Astrid isn’t one of those girls who wear their uniform skirts as short as possible or their jackets at tight as possible. She wears her uniform with a quiet elegance that fits her petite frame and rebellious character.
Only… she hasn’t been rebellious at all.
She did return to school after I barged into her house, but since then, she’s been keeping to herself.
No more distasteful pranks. No more challenges. No more… anything.
She’s been treating me as non-existent since she returned to school. I thought I wanted her to back off and know her place, but now that I think about it, the sudden lack of her fight is part of what’s been pissing me off.
I’ve been feeding off her negative energy like a starved predator, and now that she’s sealing herself in, I’m tempted to claw inside and pluck her out.
There’s something about her that keeps pulling me in and I’m not the type to back off until I see the end of it.
Time to see how much fight the princess has left.
17
Astrid
Can you fight when the devil pulls you into the night?
* * *
Ugh. Not again.
I frown at the sketch in my hands.
Mum was a tattoo artist and did her best pieces when the customers gave her free reign. She used to say that spontaneous art is the best art. A real muse doesn’t ask for permission before striking.
Looks like my muse is a freaking idiot.
For the past week, the only face I’ve been able to sketch properly is Levi’s.
His pale, slightly droopy eyes. The straight, high nose. The sharp jawline. The slight curve in his neck with the tendons and veins rippling. I didn’t even miss the small mole on his collarbone.
Something is seriously wrong with me.
I’m about to rip it when a shadow looms over me. My head snaps up, and I remove my earbuds at the same time. Super Massive Black Hole by Muse continues thumping low as I meet a senior’s gaze.
He has messy brown hair and a buff physique, especially his shoulders and chest. His name is Jerry Huntington, if I remember correctly, and he’s part of the Rugby team.
“Yes?” I ask, unsure why he’s approaching me.
He smiles like a cartoon character. I’m sure he meant to woo me with it or something. In that case, epic fail.
“The guys and I are going out for a beer, do want to join us?” he asks in a suggestive tone.
“No, thanks.” I fling my backpack to the front and stuff my sketchpad and earbuds inside.
“Come on, babe, you’ll like it.” I catch him licking his lips from the corner of my eyes. “I promise.”
“I said no.” I try to speak as low as possible, hoping he’ll get the freaking hint and go away.
It’s not that I’m not interested in boys, but athletes never appealed to me.
Aside from my freaking muse, of course.
I close the zipper of my backpack when his hand snags around my wrist. His voice turns threatening as he speaks, “I said you’ll like it. Don’t pretend like you’re hard to get, everyone knows you’re a little slut.”
“That’s enough!” I push at him and attempt to yank my wrist. “Let me go.”
He doesn’t. If anything, his grip tightens until my wrist hurts.
I groan, my throat closing around the scream that’s bubbling to be set free. My face heats with exertion and even though I try to rein in my reaction, I can’t help the shivers of fear crowding my shoulders.
For the love of Vikings, this can’t be happening again.
One second, I’m trying to free myself from Jerry’s hold, the next, a large frame slams into Jerry’s bulk and pushes him straight to the concrete.
I stare in stunned silence as Levi smashes Jerry to the ground. Although the rugby player is bigger, Levi doesn’t show a sign of backing off.
He launches successive blows at Jerry’s face and abdomen like he’s a punching bag. It takes Jerry long seconds to gather his wits and hit back. He uses his upper bulk to push Levi into the ground and fixate him with a knee to his stomach before he punches him over and over again.
Something twists in my chest at the constant slaps of flesh against flesh.
But maybe it’s not because of the violence. Maybe this is b
ecause of something else.
Nope. I’m not going there.
Soon after, Levi takes the upper hand. Their view isn’t so clear with them rolling on the ground, wrestling to get the upper hand.
I don’t have to see the blackness in Levi’s mood to feel it.
It permeates the air like a suffocating, impenetrable smoke.
He’s not only fighting Jerry, he’s out for blood.
“Stop it!” I shout when I’m partially out of my stupor. “Stop!”
Neither of them listens. If anything, their punches and grunts become more violent. At this rate, they’ll kill each other.
My gaze strays both ways, looking for anything that will help in stopping the two bulls.
When I find nothing, I put two fingers in my mouth and siffle loud.
Jerry is the one who looks up first. Levi punches him in the face and stands up as his opponent falls to the ground.
When the rugby player pushes to his feet, obviously ready for another round, I speak in a loud, clear tone. “I’ll call the principle.”
“Fucking bitch,” Jerry mutters under his breath while dusting his trousers. “Can’t see what’s so special about her.”
“What did you just say?” Levi is in his face in a second.
Of course Levi doesn’t give a shit about the threat of the principle. I’m starting to learn that he doesn’t give two fucks about anything.
I stride to them and place a hand on Levi’s shoulder. “Let him go, he’s not worth it.”
Jerry gives a lopsided smirk that smears the blood from his lips over his teeth. “Listen to your slut, King.”
Before I can see the gloom on Levi’s face, I feel it. No, I breathe it in the air.
It’s there in the quick rise and fall of his chest. The clenching of his fists. The stiffness of his shoulders.
I stare up at him and gulp audibly.
His gaze is completely black.
Dark.
Deadly.
It’s like he can kill Jerry and not feel an ounce of guilt about it.
He starts to push me away, but I block his path so my back is to his front and I’m facing Jerry.
“Isn’t your father Judge Huntington?” I ask in my coolest voice.