For the first time in fucking ever, I don’t have myself under control.
And that’s saying something since everyone always thinks I have a loose screw and can’t be labeled sane by any stretch of the imagination.
It’s different this time.
I knew it was disastrously different when I didn’t want to talk to my dad. If I did, even he would be insisting on the pills.
A part of me is insisting on the fucking pills.
I hate the fact that I’m even thinking about that possibility. But there’s no other way to kill this state of chaos. I haven’t been sleeping, eating, fucking breathing, and have been surviving on violence, cigarettes, and alcohol.
The alternative to the pills is being stuck in the middle of a black rage for the foreseeable future.
Rage that can’t be doused by any fighting, riding, or any extended fucking sight of blood. If anything, it’s been mounting, intensifying until it’s the only form of oxygen I suck into my lungs day in and day out.
The only time I can breathe properly is when I stare at Bran’s texts and stalk his social media like a stage-five creep. I hate that I can’t hug him to sleep or kiss him. I hate that I can’t look at him and cling to him like an annoying octopus. After he poured his heart out to me in the tub, the last thing I wanted was to leave him, but I had to.
I still have to.
My current state doesn’t allow for me to see him. I don’t trust myself not to hurt him. I really, really fucking don’t.
Even now, I’m battling the urge to grab him by the fucking throat and bruise his lips in front of the whole world. He’d hate me for good this time, but who fucking cares.
The only thing that puts a halt to my plan is the presence of his less pleasant eyesore twin.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Jeremy asks on everyone’s behalf.
Everyone, and I mean every single fucking person present, is alarmed by the asshole.
Everyone but his precious brother, who looks pained on Landon’s behalf.
He’s never looked at me like that. Has never shown me an ounce of the concern he unconditionally has for his brother.
It’s an illogical thought, but I can’t shove it out of my broken mind. My muscles tighten and a flood of rage douses me in one fucking go.
“I thought this was a birthday and everyone was invited.” Landon speaks with a nonchalance that scratches my wavering resolve like nails on a chalkboard.
“You’re not,” Kill replies.
“Seems that I am now.” The motherfucker has the nerve to walk to my sister. My fucking sister. “Happy Birthday. Aside from the gift of my attendance, I have something else for you, but I’d rather give it to you in private—”
My body moves on autopilot as I slam my fist in the cunt’s face. He staggers back and blood explodes on his lip.
“Lan.” Glyn leaves Kill and rushes to him. “Just…go.”
“I didn’t go through all the trouble of bribing incompetent security guards just to leave,” he continues talking in that casual tone that will get him killed. Preferably tonight.
I step forward to finish the job and lose his brother for fucking good, because I’m suicidal like that, but Mia clutches my arm and then signs, “He’s not worth it, Niko.”
I’m going to kill him.
I’m going to fucking kill him.
Kill—
“Time out.” He lifts a hand. “Before you proceed with your attempts at rearranging my features, allow me to clarify an important element. I happen to be in the process of courting your sister, and any attempts at ruining my face will not play in the favor of said task.”
What did this asshole just say?
Did he just mention courting? And who? My sister? My Mia?
“I’m going to fucking kill you before you lay a hand on her.” I storm toward him.
“Oh, that’s already done.”
Bran closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as he breathes slowly.
What the fuck…?
He’s not surprised.
Why is he not surprised?
“What the fuck did you just say?” I ask slowly, my fucked-up brain refusing to believe the words I heard.
No. I’m refusing to believe Bran knew about this fuckery all along. He wouldn’t…
Why not? He obviously cares about his brother’s safety and opinion more than yours.
“I said.” Lan stands toe-to-toe with me. “The touching part already happened. In fact, our rendezvous included more than touching, but I’ll spare you the details since you’re her brother.”
“You fucking—” I raise my fist, but when I’m about to drive it into his face, Bran slides in front of him.
It’s too late.
My fist slams into Bran’s face.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
The blow is so powerful that Bran falls back against his brother and Landon grabs him, then dabs at the blood at his lip.
I don’t resist when hands pull me back. I don’t even know whose they are as I stare at the blood gushing out of Bran’s nose. His face is pained, but he’s trying hard to remain unaffected.
Fuck!
What the fuck have I done? Me hitting Bran? How could I do that? Even unintentionally?
My jaw tics and every fiber inside me urges me to make sure he’s okay. But I can’t do that when his fucking brother is all over him.
So I direct my wrath at my sister. “Is it true?”
Her eyes double in size like whenever she’s done something she’s not supposed to. This, however, is drastically different from sneaking out at night or plotting trouble with Maya.
“Is what the fucker said true, Mia?” I ask again, a vein nearly popping in my neck. “Have you been sleeping with him?”
She steals a glance at Landon and then signs, “It’s not what you think.”
“And what does he think?” Landon releases Bran and I have to summon ungodly fucking resolve to not look at him and focus on his brother instead.
“You shut up,” she signs.
“I’m happy to shut up, but only if you tell the truth and nothing but the truth.”
“What is he talking about?” Kill asks with a note of tension.
Mia flashes Landon her signature hostile glare and signs, “It was just a ruse that meant nothing. It’s all over now.”
He grins with a note of sadism. “I disrespectfully disagree. It was more than a ruse and is far from being over. Mia and I came to a slight disagreement about priorities and my notorious penchant for anarchy. Despite my dramatic entry, I’m not here to stir up any shit. On the contrary, I came to propose a long-due truce between our clubs.”
“Not even when you’re buried six feet under,” I snap, and this time, I can’t help it. I steal a glimpse at Bran and pause when I find him looking at me.
His eyes are begging, pleading. For his fucking brother.
All this time, Landon has been an annoying asshole, and despite Jeremy’s attempts to rile me up against him, I took Kill’s side and let everything he did slide. Because like Kill, I’m in too deep with Landon’s sibling, and I can’t hurt him if I want to be with his brother.
However, Mia is off-fucking-limits.
I’m going to kill Landon for touching my sister. No one will stop me, not even Bran.
“I wouldn’t be so quick to rule it out,” Landon says, still looking at Mia. “This rare chance will work out so well for both of us if you just give it a go.”
“My sister is not for fucking sale,” I growl, my voice unsteady and dripping with the tension that’s flooding me.
“I never suggested that. Unlike what she said, Mia came to meet me every night. There was no coercion involved in our nighttime rendezvous.”
What the fuck?
I look at Mia as if an alien abducted my real sister and put an imposter in her place.
She’s not the type who’d fall for Landon’s fake charms. She’s…Mia. My sister is better than this.
Which is why I’m proud when she signs, “Whether the truce happens or not, I’ll never go back to you.”
A smirk curves his lips. “Never say never.”
“You’re insane,” she signs.
“Guilty as charged.”
“You won’t have me.”
“I had you once.”
“Won’t be happening again.”
“We won’t know until I try.”
“Stop being delusional.”
“Stop fighting the inevitable.”
That’s fucking it.
I wedge myself between them not so gently, and Jeremy accompanies me as I glare at the motherfucker. “Leave before I fuck up your face.”
“Last I checked, that’s not a good starting point for a truce, no?”
Bran grabs onto his brother’s arm and doesn’t look at me as he says, “Let’s just go.”
“I won’t be taking a step outside unless you give me your word about the truce.” Landon stares at Jeremy. “You know this is for everyone’s benefit. Cecily and Glyn included.”
“Not happening.” I speak with difficulty, trying not to grab Bran and shove him to my side.
“It can be for your benefit, too,” Landon tells me. “In return, I will refrain from breaking your face for the damage you inflicted on my brother.”
“Forget it, Lan.” Bran tugs harder on his arm, his voice sounding strangled. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” Landon cocks his head and glares at me. “I don’t like it when others harm my family.”
“Funny coming from you. Once I’m done with you, nothing will be left for anyone to recognize.”
Bran finally looks at me and I stare back.
I’m going to fucking kill your brother. Since you already hate me, I might as well go all the way.
“Please stop,” Glyn takes her brother’s side and pleads with Kill. “Lan isn’t the type who offers truces, so can you take it?”
“Even if we agree to the truce,” my cousin says, “Mia is off the table.”
“That’s not for you to decide, is it?” Landon smiles, and I swear to fuck, he’s the most provocative asshole on this planet. And here I thought Kill was dire.
Jeremy keeps a strong grip on my shoulder and even that can’t keep me in place. “She already told you no.”
“I can work with a no.” Landon walks to my sister, passes her a velvet box, and has the audacity to whisper in her ear.
I push Jeremy away and shove Landon back so hard, he falls against his siblings. Bran staggers to keep his brother upright and I curse under my breath.
Tonight is just a fucked-up fucking case of fucking fuckery! Why did he have to be here?
This is why I didn’t want to fucking see him.
Fuck!!
“I’ll take that as you saying yes to my offer. As for the Mia issue, I’ll leave that to her. Just know that I won’t take lightly to any censorship or attempts to keep me away from her. You can torture me if you fancy. I’ll also leave my door open in case you want to kidnap me and exact revenge for past travesties, so let me know your plan. Or don’t. I’m open to surprises.” Landon glides his attention to Kill. “You and I are even, considering the whole Glyn situation.”
My cousin’s face hardens and he steps forward, but Glyn and Bran tug their brother back.
“I’ll be out of your hair,” he calls. “For some reason, it feels like I’m not welcome here. I wonder why.”
“You motherfucking—”
I lunge at him, but I stop when Bran mouths, “Please.”
Fucking hell.
I let Jeremy and the others pull me back as I watch the three of them going down the stairs.
Bran glances at me one last time, his shoulders crowding with tension, his eyes full of anguish.
I just found out my baby sister is getting in bed with the enemy in every sense of the word, but the part that makes me lose my fucking mind is the damn pain in Bran’s eyes.
Can we talk?
We can meet briefly in the penthouse. You don’t have to spend the night if you don’t want to.
You looked really on edge. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Can I see you?
So you’re not going to apologize for punching me? Not that I’m cross with you or anything.
Okay, I am but not about the punch. I know you didn’t do that on purpose, but you’re definitely ignoring me on purpose.
About Lan and Mia, I didn’t want to keep that a secret, but I knew you’d throw a fit if you found out, and, well… I was right, wasn’t I?
If it’s of any consolation, I think Lan is really serious about her. He’s never been serious about anyone in his entire life. He’s never had a relationship or fought for a girl’s affection. Can you believe he asked me to teach him how to practice empathy just to win her over? That’s the first time he’s ever asked me anything and I’m loving it. We got close this week, and I’m really enjoying our time together.
I even showed him a few of the paintings I keep a secret and he said he’s proud of me. Can you believe it? Lan being PROUD of me? The last time he said that was when we were young… Well, I might have played a part in how we grew apart, but anyway, he said he knows the right agent for me, and it’s HIS agent. He introduced us the other day and I really like her better than the one Mum has been trying to make me sign with. She understands my vision so well, and maybe soon, I’ll stop keeping those paintings a secret. I’m starting to have hopes and it’s because of none other than Lan. Isn’t that crazy?
Though I’m not in a particularly good mood.
Hint. It’s because of you.
I kind of miss you.
Okay, that was a lie. I REALLY miss you.
Nikolai, please. Don’t do this.
You’re clearly reading my texts, but you can’t spare me a few words?
You know what? Forget it.
Those were the texts Bran sent me over the past week, and yes, I read every one of them, but I couldn’t reply.
If I did, I’d get disastrously violent. My racing thoughts and fucked-up head haven’t calmed down yet. For the first time ever, I’ve spent two weeks on a high. A whole two fucking weeks.
This is not the state I want to talk to him in.
But against my better judgment—which is MIA lately—I’m outside the Elites’ mansion, where I used to wait for him every morning.
I lean against my bike that’s camouflaged by a bent tree and stare at the reason why I rode all the way here.
Despite the fact that I don’t reply to his texts, I actually follow his every move, whether through his or his friends’ social media.
An hour ago, he posted a picture of Remington clutching him in a chokehold as both of them laughed. They were fucking laughing.
What made it worse was the caption. Late-night chats with Remi are the best. I’m so thankful to have you @lord-remington-astor.
And then Remington’s reply. Cheers, mate. You know you’re my fave. Don’t tell my spawn.
I wasn’t thinking when I came here. Something I haven’t been doing enough of.
Sometimes, I believe the best solution for this whole fuckery is to go into the Elites’ mansion, kill Landon, then kidnap his brother, but something tells me that won’t go over well.
As if that dilemma wasn’t enough, he had to post that picture with Remington. In his damn bedroom.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Is that what ‘Forget it’ means? Has he already found a replacement and tossed me aside?
Not in his goddamn dreams.
My fingers are stiff as I type.
ME
Come outside.
BRAN
Look who decided to finally acknowledge my existence.
Come fucking outside, Brandon.
Where? Please don’t tell me you’re here.
Outside. Now.
Fine. You’re such a joy today.
I narrow my eyes at the phone. Of course I’m not a joy compared to that clown Remington.
Bran even once said, “He’s just so funny.” He fucking isn’t.
My muscles are about to snap from how wound up and tight they feel. Two weeks on a high is just too long and I don’t sense any signs of coming down anytime soon.
I took the pills the night I punched Bran, because I couldn’t trust myself anymore. I had to admit that I was losing control.
They didn’t help. Unless nearly fucking drowning in the pool is considered help.
Still, I took three of them earlier so that I won’t do something I’ll regret. The thought of hurting him fucking terrifies me. But I don’t think they’re working. The urge to punch someone is greater than I can contain.
I should’ve stayed away.
I really shouldn’t be here—
My heart rate picks up when I catch a glimpse of Bran striding hurriedly toward me. He knows the exact place where I’ll be waiting.
God-fucking-damn-it. I’ve missed him and his sophisticated presence. The plain black shorts and the gray T-shirt do nothing to hide his fit physique.
His hair is in a bit of a mess, falling haphazardly over his forehead, making him look more human instead of his uptight side.
He comes to a halt in front of me and his expression slowly shifts from anger to…softness? Since when does he soften?
“We could’ve met in the penthouse. You didn’t have to come here. Not that I didn’t want you to be here…”
I stare at him and keep my mouth shut. I don’t trust myself not to snap right now.
“Nikolai, listen.” He rounds the bike and stands in front of me. “There are a lot of things I want to talk to you about. I actually spoke to my friends and Glyn and—”
“Shut the fuck up.” I grab him by the throat and shove him against the tree’s trunk. “I’m not here to talk.”
I crash my lips to his and he releases a startled sound, but I swallow it the fuck up. He tastes of lemon, ginger, and honey.
He tastes like my imminent downfall.
I thrust my tongue against his, slurping, tugging, and biting until he moans.
He moans for me as if he’s been fucking waiting for this. As if he didn’t already replace me with someone else.
“Niko…wait.” He wrenches his lips away.
“I’m done waiting.” I chase his mouth, then claim it again. He pulls on my hair, but I feel nothing. No pain. No thoughts.
Just fucking blind possessiveness.
Twisted desire.
The need to fucking own him claws inside me like a beast.
I yank my lips away from his and whirl him around, then shove his face against the tree, my fingers wrapping around his nape. I tug down his shorts, revealing his ass.
“Nikolai…?”
My lips line up with his ear and I breathe so harshly, it’s nearly a growl. “Tell me to stop. This is your only chance to do so. Tell me you don’t want me anymore. Say it and I’ll go.”
“It’s not that…” His choppy exhales echo in the air like my own aphrodisiac.
“If it’s not that, shut your fucking mouth.”
“What’s wrong…?”
“Shut it.” I pull out my cock that’s been hard since I saw him, and spit on my hand. “No lube. This will have to do.”
He releases an affirmative sound, but it ends with a grunt when I push past the tight ring of muscle.
My body that’s been uncharacteristically dead for the past two weeks roars back to life when I’m sheathed inside him.
“Fuck,” I growl, my teeth biting down on the hollow of his throat.
Bran turns his face to glimpse at me and I don’t like it.
I don’t like how he looks at me with those soft eyes as if he missed me. As if he didn’t fucking replace me.
So I thrust harder, reach deeper, go faster.
“Niko…” he groans when I hit that spot with my piercings. “Fuck…we’re in public.”
“And yet you’re so hard you’re humping the tree. You get hot and bothered about the prospect of being caught.”
“Jesus…mmfuck…I missed the way you fuck me.”
“Shut the fuck up.” This time, I wrap my fingers around his mouth. I don’t want to hear his voice. I don’t want to hear what he has to say and I don’t want to get lost in him again.
I’m just proving a point. The fact that he belongs to me and only me. The fact that he still only wants me and will never fucking replace me.
“You’re mine, Brandon. Fucking mine. If you think there’s another option out there for you other than me, I have a news flash for you.” I bite the shell of his ear and he moans, the sound muffled by my hand. “You fucking don’t. Just know that I’ll slaughter anyone you let near you and fuck you in their blood.”
I squeeze his cock and jerk him fast and rough, matching the rhythm of my cock in his ass. He thrusts his hips forward then back, slamming his ass against my groin over and over until his madness mirrors mine. The slaps of flesh against flesh echo in the air as I pound him, rough and unhinged.
Fucking fuck.
He comes all over my hand, groaning and trying to say something, but my grip on his mouth doesn’t allow him to.
Even after he comes, he continues to ride my cock, jerking back and forth, milking me, dragging the orgasm from somewhere deep in my fucked-up soul instead of my body.
I come deep in him and he moans, his teeth sinking into my fingers, and his body shudders beneath mine.
If I didn’t know it before, then I’m sure now. I’ll never enjoy fucking again if it isn’t with him.
He fucking broke me.
Literally and figuratively.
My mind is still a goddamn mess even as I pull out of him. My cum trickles down his balls and thighs, and I want to fuck it right back inside him like I usually do, but this is not about touching.
This is about proving a fucking point.
When I remove my hand, Bran’s lips reach for mine, but I step back and out of reach.
I’ve never seen him so hurt, so distraught as he looks right now. All the pleasure has vanished and he watches me slowly, warily, as if he’s seeing my eyes for the first time.
We tuck ourselves in as he faces me.
I grab his hand and he stiffens as I remove the watch and check beneath it. There’s an old scar but no new ones that I can see. Though he could be doing it somewhere hidden, like with the fucking nicks due to ‘shaving.’
“I didn’t…” He slowly pulls his hand free. “I haven’t done it since the last time.”
“Good.”
He cocks his head, his face unreadable. “Can you tell me what’s wrong now?”
“You better not let anyone else touch you or I swear to fuck my murder threats will become reality.”
He nods, his expression serious. “We’re exclusive, remember?”
“You should be the one who remembers that.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I turn around and hop on my bike.
“Wait. You’re leaving? Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Nikolai. Don’t you fucking dare walk away from me.”
“You’ve done that countless times. Why can’t I?”
His expression drips with pain and he opens his mouth. I should be on my way, but I can’t. Not when he has something to say.
“I’m sorry.”
“What the fuck did I say about apologizing?”
“What do you want me to say or do? I’m trying to get close to you, but the harder I try, the further you slip away.”
“Let me ask you.” I turn sideways to face him. “If you had to choose between me and your brother. Who would you pick?”
“Neither. It’s not supposed to be a choice. Besides, if you accept him with Mia, he’ll have no choice but to accept you with me.”
“My sister is not up for fucking negotiation.”
His face falls and he swallows thickly. “Then I guess you made your choice.”
“And so did you.” I rev the engine.
I need to get out of here before I proceed with my very irrational idea about kidnapping him.
A voice inside me demands that, scratching and clawing at the fucking foundation of my being just to keep him close.
But if I do that, if I take him, I’ll hurt him. I just know I will fucking lose him.
So even though I continue staring at him in the rearview mirror, standing there with his hand in his hair, I don’t go back.
I need to eliminate the vermin that is Landon King.
Then I need a whole bottle of the fucking pills.
