Two weeks have passed since the day my life was flipped upside down.
Since the day I danced with Creighton in the rain and then he kissed me.
Or more like swallowed me whole and feasted on the remains until I thought I would pass out.
I never knew kissing could be a life-or-death experience, but Creighton is obviously making it his mission to revoke each and every one of my convictions.
Before him, I thought I was too sensitive to pain, but with every punishment, every slap of his hand, I’m beginning to think maybe I enjoy this depravity. Maybe my sensitiveness is one more reason why I like it so much.
Or maybe I enjoy what comes after—the controlling touches, the earth-shattering orgasm.
Even the tears.
Before him, I thought crying was a weakness. Now, whenever I cry, Creighton’s intensity burns a notch higher and he devours me whole.
He’s a sadist like that.
But he’s my sadist.
Over the past two weeks, he’s been introducing me to concepts I didn’t know about. Like gagging my mouth with my panties or his fingers while he spanks me—he totally enjoyed that one a bit too much. Or making me beg for an orgasm, edging me on and on until I become a mess.
But he’s also taught me to embrace the pain, to stop fighting it, and the moment I do, pleasure comes a lot more easily.
Partly because I’m becoming accustomed to his ministrations.
Partly because he’s the one behind the pain. Not anyone else—Creighton.
Though I stopped idolizing him a long time ago. Not only is he an imperfect human, but I also dislike him sometimes. Especially when he goes into his tyrant mode and refuses basic requests.
If I say no, I’m punished.
If I defy him, I’m also punished.
If he feels like I’m being a brat? Yeah, that one gets me in deep trouble.
Sometimes, it seems that his immaculate control is his way to keeping parts of him sealed inside.
That theory has been getting more plausible the further he deepens my punishment whenever he feels a rebellion building inside me.
After that kiss, I felt a wall between us had been demolished. The sad news is that I’m discovering more and more walls.
It’s like he’s keeping me an arm’s length away, far enough to not peek at his true nature.
Beyond the sadist who can’t feel pleasure without inflicting pain, I mean.
Which is why I’ve been pushing to get him out of his comfort zone. And that’s basically by demanding dates. Yes, I get punished for them, but it’s worth it.
At first, we often met up on the roof of the shelter and had lunch, but Jeremy loosened the security last week.
No more guards follow me around and I don’t have to look over my shoulder. I even go to hang out with the girls—still not at the stage where I spend nights at the dorm, though.
I had to put my foot down for my freedom, called Papa and Mom, and told them I was going to run away if they keep shackling me.
“That is, if you can run away,” is what Papa said matter-of-factly, but then he told Jeremy to grant me freedom.
Papa is all about tough love, I tell you.
But anyway, after gaining my long-awaited freedom, Creighton and I went out to see a movie, and he surprisingly didn’t fall asleep during it.
We also went jogging up the mountains, or more like he dragged me up. What? I don’t like hiking. That’s what it’s called. It’s not jogging, it’s damn hiking.
He just smiled and shook his head as I struggled, turned red, and demanded a break every ten minutes.
The discomfort may have been worth it since I got to see his smile. They’re as rare as special editions and have the ability to cause heart issues. So maybe it’s a blessing that he doesn’t show them often.
Besides, I don’t want to share them or him.
But I kind of have to today.
Ava, Cecily, and I have gone to the fight club. This is where REU and The King’s U students beat each other up. They even have a championship for it. It’s like a venting outlet for all the rivalries they have going on.
Since the Heathens are regulars in the championship, Jeremy made it blatantly clear that I’m not allowed here.
The last time he found me, he escorted me out before I even watched any fighting and put me under house arrest.
So I had to sneak in this time. I made sure to wear an oversized hoodie, hide my hair, and even put on sunglasses.
My vision isn’t the best, considering it’s nighttime and the glaring lights, but it’s better than being kicked out before I can watch Creighton fight in the semifinals against none other than Nikolai.
The same Nikolai who always appears ready to fuck up someone’s face and end another person’s life.
“Have you guys tried to stop him?” I ask the girls with a half-spooked voice.
“No one can stop Creighton from fighting,” Cecily says.
“Not even Uncle Aiden.” Ava gets on her tiptoes to get a better view of the crowd. “And Uncle Aiden is, like, the most ruthless person I know, no kidding.”
“Maybe he got his ruthlessness from his father?” I ask, catching a glimpse of Creighton talking to Remi on the side of the ring, or more like listening as Remi does all the talking.
He’s only wearing black shorts, putting his physique and the spider tattoo on display. And I can’t help watching it closely, getting lost in the striking details.
I’ve seen more models than I could count, but in my eyes, Creighton is the most beautiful man alive.
And yes, I’m biased.
“Nope,” Cecily says. “Uncle Aiden isn’t violent. Not even close. He’s just calculative and methodical to a fault.”
“Totes, but he can become violent if need be. Dad always says he can’t believe Creigh is Uncle Aiden’s son. Like, he’s so sweet and well-mannered and actually fits Dad’s personality.”
Sweet? I stare at Ava, dumbfounded. Are we talking about the same Creighton or does he somehow have a twin?
Cecily smirks. “Yeah, your father obviously prefers Creigh over his older brother.”
“Shh. Don’t bring up bad mojo when I’m having fun.” She points at Cecily’s T-shirt that says, Violence isn’t the answer. Violence is the question, and the answer is yes. “And you totally came here for fun.”
“You’re the one who bought me this.”
“Looks perfect on you.” She grins. “I should’ve made that wuss Glyn wear it. Can’t believe she ditched us again.”
“Doesn’t she hate violence?” I supply.
“More like she’s more interested in Killian. I’m rooting for her, though. That girl needed to get shagged a long time ago.”
“Still wish that she’d gotten with someone other than a student from The King’s U,” Cecily mutters under her breath, then smiles at me. “No offense.”
“None taken.” I wave a hand absentmindedly while focused on Creighton.
On the other side of the ring, Nikolai flings his arms out and tilts his head back, eyes closed.
His black satin robe flies wide open, revealing his red shorts and the extravagant tattoos covering his chest.
It’s like he’s doing a satanic ritual.
The silver lining is that both Jeremy and Gareth are by his side, so I can keep an eye on them and bolt if they come in this direction.
My brother is scheduled to fight against Landon in the second semifinal match next week, and I’m definitely not going to be around to watch that.
Nikolai’s eyes flash open and stare directly at me.
Shit.
I half hide behind Ava, but his gaze remains the same. If he tells Jer I came here despite his clear warnings, I’m doomed to another episode in the ivory tower.
Wait.
I move sideways and Nikolai’s gaze doesn’t track me.
It’s on…
I follow his line of vision to find a stiffening Brandon who’s standing behind us. His hand pulls at the back of his hair as he meets Nikolai’s savage gaze, lips pursed, eyes hard.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him look so upset, so…perturbed.
“Bran!” Ava jumps him in a half hug. “What are you doing here?”
His expression reverts back to normal and he drops his hand from his nape. “Remi begged us via the group chat.”
“He did?” Cecily asks. “How much do I have to bribe you to show us that?”
“No need for a bribe.” He fishes out his phone and scrolls to a group chat called Lord Remi’s Sidekicks.
Remington: My favorite—and only, might I add—spawn will be fighting in the semifinals tonight! I’m going to need you all to come and cheer for our youngest little shit. I have tears in my eyes, I swear. When did he become all grown up?
Eli: Stop talking about him as if he’s a kid.
Remington: Fuck off, psycho. You call him baby brother all the time.
Eli: But only I get to do that.
Landon: We can always do it behind your back.
Eli: Not if you wish to live another day. He’s my brother.
Landon: And my baby cousin.
*Creighton left the chat*
Remington: Blah, blah, blah. You scared my spawn away with all your ramblings. He’s my cousin and my spawn, but you don’t see me bragging about that, though I totally should. Anyway, who’s going to be at the fight club?
*Remington added Creighton to the chat*
Brandon: You know violence isn’t my scene.
Landon: Beg first, your lordship.
Eli: Yes, beg. And make it worth our while.
Remington: What kind of fucked-up kink is this? The only time I’ll beg is when both of you are shoved into hell. That’s when I’ll get on my knees and plead with Satan to skin you alive and let me watch.
Landon: I guess that means you’ll go alone.
Eli: We would hate for you to look sad, Remi.
Landon: The fangirls wouldn’t approve.
Eli: You might lose shagging rights.
Remington: Fine, you fuckers. Please come.
Landon: Pun intended?
Remington: Fuck you, Psycho 2.0. Tell anyone about this and I’ll kill you. Okay? Okay.
*Creighton has left the chat*
Cecily laughs and Ava stares blankly at the screen for a while before she chuckles, too.
“I’ll pay you to send me screenshots,” Cecily says.
“You can get them for free.”
“Awe, we don’t deserve Bran.” She grabs him by the arm.
“Bitch, the whole world doesn’t deserve Bran.” Ava wraps an arm around his free shoulder.
He subtly slings it off him. “Thanks for the compliment, but I kind of still want to live another day.”
She rolls her eyes and steps back.
“Does Creighton always leave the chat?” I ask.
Bran smiles. “Yeah, and Remi adds him back in. It’s like a cat and mouse game.”
“Does he talk to you guys?”
“Rarely.”
“OMG.” Ava watches me intently.
“What?”
“You little bitch! All this time, you said you were putting Operation Fake Boyfriend on hiatus because you’re hung up on Creigh, aren’t you?”
“Now that you mention it.” Cecily narrows her eyes on me. “Maybe the reason she doesn’t glue herself to Creigh’s side anymore is because they’re having alone time in private.”
“Also, Creigh did ask me what the best film at the cinema is these days,” Bran supplies to my horror.
“A date?” Ava’s eyes nearly bug out. “Cray Cray on a date? This is huge. We need deets, like all of them, and in order. Did you kiss? Did you fuck?”
My face must look crimson, but I still clear my throat. “I…don’t know what you guys are talking about.”
The three of them close in on me, but before they can grill me for answers, the fight begins.
That definitely gets their attention.
I release a long breath, but it’s caught in my throat when Nikolai all but lunges at Creighton as soon as the referee announces the start.
Most fighters spend the first few seconds carefully circling each other.
Not Nikolai.
He was born to inflict violence. A mafia prince through and through.
The King’s U’s crowd goes wild as he lands the first blow, sending Creighton’s face flying sideways.
A gasp falls from my lips and my whole body stiffens.
REU’s crowd starts chanting Creighton’s last name in unison. Ava and even Cecily join in.
“King, King, King!”
I’m unable to breathe properly, let alone speak.
Creighton sways back, but he doesn’t fall. He swings his fist and it lands straight in Nikolai’s face. Blood trickles from his nose, and he groans, then wipes at it with his wrapped hand.
They go at it for some time, one hitting and the other jumping back before punching harder.
All the shouts, screams, and cries from the crowd mingle together until they become one.
It takes everything in me to stay and watch as they punch and send each other flying. But I do because this is also a part of Creighton.
There must be a reason why he is the way he is. Why he’s so intent on inflicting sexual pain and violence.
And I need to be acquainted with it.
Only then will I be able to understand Creighton.
And I want that more than anything. I can’t just take his lashes of pain and hide from the reason he became like this.
Remington jumps by the side of the ring, calling out and cheering him on. Soon after, Landon joins him, a bored expression covering his face.
Both Cecily and Bran go still at the sight of him. Only Ava continues jumping up and down. “Get him, Cray Cray! We love you!”
“Do you now?”
Ava comes to an abrupt halt, and her mouth remains slightly parted as we all turn toward the gravelly voice.
The newcomer is none other than Eli. I’ve never met him, but I’ve seen him around, and Ava made me follow him on IG so she could stalk him.
He followed me back, so we’re in that awkward situation where we’re mutuals but have never spoken.
Besides, he’s Creighton’s brother and his IG is one of the few places where there are any updates of him. Some of them are within family settings, but most are selfies where Creighton is sleeping in the background and Eli has captions like:
Documenting the Sleeping Beauty chronicles. Day 100.
The cheeky bastard fell asleep while I was talking. The audacity is presumptuous.
I asked him to choose between me and sleep. He covered his head with the sheet. Revoking brotherly rights as we speak.
Eli King looks nothing like his younger brother. They’re both handsome, but while Creigh looks like a beautiful prince, Eli is more like a serial killer prince. His build is leaner, his features sharper, cutting even. And he has black hair and dark gray eyes that could compete with pure metal.
I thought maybe the drastic difference in their looks was a case of someone taking more after one of the parents, and that’s true in Eli’s case. He does look like a carbon copy of their father. Creighton looks nothing like their mother, though, so maybe he resembles someone else from the family.
Ava’s face has gone red in the span of seconds, but she still says, “Shouldn’t you be hiding in the dark to do some satanic rituals?”
“I’m missing an important ingredient.” His expression doesn’t change. “Blood.”
Wow. Okay. Maybe the King brothers are more alike than I initially thought.
“Annika, right?” He offers me a hand and I shake it. “I’m sure Creigh talks about me all the time.”
“He actually doesn’t.” I grin, then follow up with, “But I’ve heard about you.”
His brow furrows. “Not from him?”
“No?” I answer awkwardly, thinking that’s probably not what he wants to hear.
“That cheeky bastard.” His gaze flits to the fight that’s getting heated. “Want to get out of here?”
I cast a glance at Cecily, but she pretends the fight is more important than the nuclear war currently happening.
Ava grinds her teeth, but she stares ahead, too.
Brandon has been so engrossed in the fight that he hasn’t moved an inch. Hell, he’s been so silent that I’d forgotten he was here in the first place.
“Leave her alone,” Ava finally grits out.
A cruel smirk curves Eli’s lips. “I have a few things to ask Annika. It won’t take long.”
The two of them glare at each other, or more like Ava does, while he keeps that perfect smirk in place.
I’m distracted away from whatever is going on between them, because something’s changed in the ring.
The crowd goes wild and it’s because Creighton has backed Nikolai in a corner.
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
His expression has turned savage as he plows over and over. Nikolai bursts out laughing, maniacally, not even attempting to protect himself.
I catch a glimpse of Bran lifting his hand to his nape and tugging at the short hairs so violently, I wince.
The harder Nikolai laughs, the more savage Bran’s hair pulling turns.
The referee announces that Creighton has won by points. REU’s crowd goes crazy, shouting his last name.
Cecily claps. Bran turns around and leaves without a word.
Eli and Ava are still in that weird stance that even made her lose focus on the fight—and that says something since she’s the most enthusiastic about these types of scenes.
I throw a glance behind me and gasp when Creighton jumps from one of the ring posts. He completely ignores Remi and Landon and jogs in our direction.
The crowd parts for him, and some slap him on the back while others attempt to shake his hand. He pays none of them any attention. His sole focus is on me.
There’s a cut on his lip and his face looks like that of an underworld lord who’s fresh out of a battle.
“Oh, hi—” Whatever I had to say dies in my throat when he grabs me by the waist and slams me to his side.
Creighton’s voice is clipped at best as he glares at his brother. “Stay the fuck away from what’s mine.”
And then he drags me out of the club.
