15. Blaise

Allie is crying herself to sleep in the other bedroom. Cole went outside to clear his head after he informed me of my girlfriend’s sexual advances. I’m not even surprised. I’ve seen how she looks at him when she thinks I’m not aware, but she fails to realize that I miss nothing. Maybe that’s why I keep her around. At least I know where she is when she’s riding my dick.

“Allie is upset, Blaise.” Mia reaches for my hand. “I can’t let her sleep alone tonight.”

I look at our interlaced fingers, stroking my thumb over her pale wrist. It’s such a gentle move, sweet almost.

How fucking ironic.

I snatch her wrist, making her suck in a surprised breath. The move is sudden and unexpected. That’s the thing about Cole. He brings out the darkness in me. Now, that poison is bleeding all over the girl I’ve pretended to care about for far too fucking long. I won’t hesitate to snap her neck if she touches him again. I’m nothing but a cold-hearted, unfeeling, and uncaring monster. The truth is there in her eyes. I scare her.

“Blaise?” she asks, nervous.

As I stroke a strand of hair behind her ear, she holds her breath. Something about the flicker of doubt in her eyes soothes my inner turmoil. Even so, I cup her chin and claim her mouth. Our lips crash, and I frown, kissing her harder.

Why the hell is it that I feel nothing when I touch anyone but Cole? My girlfriend could be an object. I taste the coppery blood on her tongue, and my heart remains a dull, steady beat. It doesn’t matter how hard I kiss her or claw at her clothes, skin, or hair. I don’t feel a thing. It never bothered me before to use people for my gain, like pieces in a chess game, but now it seems like I have a queen on my board—the most valuable player—and I can’t fucking get to it. Cole smirks at me from behind a wall of pawns, protected by his rooks and bishops. My king can’t defeat his army, and I’m yet to decide if he’s a coward or if he’s smart for building his walls this high.

“Blaise,” she breathes when I spin her around. “Allie is upset in the other room⁠—”

“Shut up!” I yank down her pants, palming her bare ass while keeping her cheek pressed to the wall with my fingers around her neck. I smack her pale skin, and she yelps, but I still feel nothing.

Not a fucking thing.

Numb.

Empty.

I attack her neck with biting kisses. Moaning, she juts her ass against me. The bitter taste of her flowery perfume assaults my taste buds. I rip my belt open, determined to feel…something.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asks as I free my dick.

I clamp my hand over her mouth to shut her up, and she whimpers, aroused and scared.

I’ve always played the perfect boyfriend.

Always been what I thought she wanted. I’ve tried to fit in.

“If she comes looking for my cock once more, I’ll give it to her.”

Cole’s words taunt me, slithering beneath my veins like prickly thorns. Fuck him and his threats. He won’t be touching anyone without my permission.

Mia’s eyes roll back into her head when I ram my dick into her tight cunt.

I still feel nothing.

She squeals, and I pause when the door creaks. He’s here, watching me fuck my girlfriend. Cole sets me on fire as he drops a metaphorical matchstick to the gasoline trail on the ground.

I feel again.

My heart thuds to life, beating so damn hard that my chest aches. Mia’s walls ripple around me as I sneak my hand beneath her wooly sweater to palm her tits. She doesn’t arouse me, but the thought of riling up the man behind us sure as hell does.

It’s easy to ignore her sickly perfume and squealing whimpers when every snap of my hips knocks another pawn off his board.

I’m hunting his fucking queen.

“Moan for me, Mia,” I growl in her ear, pinching her nipple. “Let my brother hear how good my dick feels. How you love it tearing through your cunt.”

She stiffens, but soon melts into my touch, and I slip my hand from her top to play with her clit. I’ve barely grazed her slick pussy lips, when I’m wrenched away and punched in the face. Collapsing to the floor, I laugh like a fucking maniac. “You’re so predictable.”

Cole glares at me and my still hard, slick dick. I push up onto my elbows and smirk at him while Mia hurries to pull her pants back up. She flees the room, mumbling apologies.

“Why so angry?” I taunt.

My dick pulses against my T-shirt. There’s a wet patch on the navy fabric. Cole grinds his teeth as he stares at it. He pulls on his short hair before kicking me hard enough to make me double over and choke out a strangled laugh.

“Fuck!” I cough, cradling my stomach. “That hurt.”

I’m finally alive again. Alive in ways I’ve never been. So what if I have to hurt him to taste freedom from the suffocating darkness? It’s worth it.

Heis worth it.

“You can’t keep your fucking hands to yourself, huh?”

“What’s the problem? Don’t you like it when I fuck my own girlfriend? Maybe I should fuck yours instead. Oh…that’s right, you broke up with her.”

Cole grabs my hair and knees me in the head.

I laugh even harder. My nose is busted. I swipe my hand through the pouring blood before collapsing onto my back, tasting iron at the back of my mouth. “Feel better yet?”

Walking past me, he plops onto the bed, shoulders slumped. He puts his elbows on his thighs and drags his fingers through his hair.

I frown as I sit up and wipe more blood from beneath my nose. It’s everywhere, coating my arm and soaking the front of my T-shirt.

“Why are you trying to piss me off?” he asks, tugging on the strands.

I glance at him. “What makes you say that?”

“Why the fuck are you doing this?” As he lowers his hands, he levels me with a look that cracks my heart wide open. “Why are you putting on a show?” He motions to where I fucked Mia not five minutes ago, and I look over as though I’ll see what he saw.

“You think me fucking my girlfriend was a show?”

“Wasn’t it?” His voice crackles. “Everything you do is a show. The girlfriend. Your grades. Your friends. Football.” He glances away, fisting his hand, and then he looks back at me. “What’s real, Blaise?”

My heart clenches tight, and I look past him at the snowflakes outside. “I don’t know.” An inch of snow lines the bottom of the window, but it’s warm in here. Warm and safe in a way I only ever feel when Cole is around. I can’t place the ache in my chest.

“I broke up with her because I can’t pretend with her anymore. My feelings are just…nonexistent.”

When I look back at him, the ache in my chest burns brighter. I want to crawl closer, but I stay rooted to the floor. My dick is still out, flaccid, but Cole never looks down. His eyes search my face, offering me a rare glimpse behind the anger that’s always close to the surface. Beneath it hides a depth I doubt many have witnessed before. It’s both intriguing and scary as fuck. I realize, as he breaks eye contact to look out the window, that I want him to trust me.

“I don’t do feelings either,” I admit, trying to explain something I struggle to comprehend myself.

A muscle clenches in Cole’s jaw. He stays silent, watching the peaceful night.

“Not because I don’t want to.” I continue, feeling my heart thud harder. Why is it scary to be vulnerable? Especially with someone like him, who has always tried to cut me down. Even if he did it to keep himself safe from further hurt. His father fucked him up, and Cole still carries the scars under his ink. Meanwhile, I’m just faulty.

“I just can’t…feel.”

Cole is still looking out the window, his knuckles bloodied.

I zip my dick away before climbing to my feet and hobbling over to the bed. “Fuck,” I snigger, flopping down beside him. “You got me good. My ribs hurt like a motherfucker.”

His lips curve, and he tears his eyes away from the window to look at me. Then he shoulders me, and we chuckle. “You’re an asshole. You know that, right?”

“Yeah…” I wet my lip, tasting blood, but I can’t stop smiling. Something warm spreads through my chest when he looks at me this way. “You’re an asshole, too.”

This time, when he laughs, I smile so big my cheeks hurt.

We fall silent, watching each other. The urge to kiss him strikes me like a boomerang. I clear my throat and look anywhere but directly at him.

When he sighs out and looks down at his hands, I swallow thickly. What is he thinking about? I hold my breath when he shrugs.

“You say you can’t feel…”

I stay silent, my heart thrashing madly.

I feel now.

“I don’t believe you.”

Staring at the side of his face, I sweep my gaze over his sharp jaw. Why does he hold this much power over me?

He focuses on his fingers—his nailbeds. “You wouldn’t have defended me the other day if you didn’t.”

“I don’t think you’re weak,” I rush out.

His brows furrow as he nods, looking pained. “I know…”

“What scares you, Cole?”

He pauses and looks up at me, his blue eyes flicking between mine.

I lower my gaze. “You don’t have to answer.”

His attention burns the side of my face for a moment longer before he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Being alone.”

When I don’t answer, his chest expands on a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know…”

I lift my gaze to his face, and he smiles weakly. “I fear being alone, so I push people away. Ironic, isn’t it? I’m alone because I don’t let anyone close. I guess…” With a shrug, he screws up his face. “I guess it’s easier to push people away than face rejection. People have a way of hurting you in the end.”

I study the side of his face, craving more of his truth. Fuck, I’m falling for him and the pain he exudes with every breath.

“How about you?” he asks as he rubs his neck.

I answer without thinking twice. “I’m scared to kiss you.”

He stills.

I stare at the doorway. Why the hell did I tell him that? Some truths should stay guarded. This was one of them, but now my truth is out there, searching for a way past his impenetrable walls.

The ache in my chest burns brighter. “You need a villain.” I meet his eyes, letting him see what lurks beneath my own surface. “I fear being the hero.”

A myriad of emotions flickers in his eyes—emotions that are as foreign to me as the whisper of his breath on my lips.

Like a tidal wave pulled toward his sandy shore, I press my lips to his. I don’t even think as I invade his space. Cole stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away. Maybe he’s too shocked. A small part of me—one of pure longing—wants to believe his heart beats as frantically as mine.

He’s not breathing or moving a muscle. I kiss him harder and tentatively reach up to cup his face. The moment my fingers graze the stubble on his cheeks, he pulls away. It’s not a sudden move. He doesn’t wrench away like the thought of kissing me repulses him—it’s a subtle move, a slight tilt of his jaw, but he could have just as well smacked me. I feel dazed, disoriented.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice cold and detached.

Outside, the snow sails through the air.

Peaceful.

Soundless.

Cole stands up without another word and walks out, leaving me behind to swallow down the hurt lodged in my throat. The door clicks shut. I fall back onto the bed and dig my fingers into my eyeballs. “You stupid idiot. What the hell is wrong with you? Why the fuck did you do that?”