25. Blaise

My hair tickles my brow as I watch Cole from beneath my lashes. He puts a bottle of antiseptic and a cloth on the bathroom sink before reaching for my cut hand. His touch is gentle as his blue eyes flick up to mine, and my heart thuds harder. While the thought of being in love with him should scare me, it doesn’t anymore. I feel safe around Cole.

Even when we dropped Mia off at her friend’s house, I couldn’t stop looking at him.

“Are you sure your nose is okay?” I ask, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. He’s different tonight, touching me as though he’s worried he might hurt me.

His fingers ghost the deep gash, and his brows furrow. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” I whisper, and his fingers pause.

“Don’t lie to me, Blaise.” A muscle tics in his jaw as his touch resumes its journey across my palm. “Always be honest with me.”

I wince when he applies pressure with his thumb, and I try to pull away, but he tightens his grip and drags me from the edge of the bathtub. Rising to my feet, I let him pull me close.

“I could have killed Jackson tonight,” he admits, holding my gaze and stroking his thumb back and forth across my wrist. “I saw fucking red when I realized he was planning to hurt you.”

“I can handle myself,” I tease, but Cole looks away and grinds his teeth. “Hey,” I say, trying to coax him to look at me. “I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I don’t have to worry about you? Really?” His eyes flash with anger, and he steps away to create space between us. I grab his hand, ignoring the sharp sting in my palm. “I’m okay, Cole.”

Looking down at our interlaced, bloodied fingers, he nods once and swallows. “If I hadn’t arrived… What then?”

“I would have taken them all on, like John Wick.”

Cole’s lips twitch, and fuck me, it feels like I’ve won the lottery. I pull him closer, my chest swelling when he finally meets my gaze.

“No one is allowed to hurt you.”

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to contain my smile. “You sound like me. There’s no room for two psychopaths in this relationship.”

His eyes flick to my mouth. “You’re not a psychopath.”

“You have no idea the lengths I’ll go for you or the things I’ve done…” I reply, and Cole stares at my mouth for all of two seconds before fisting my T-shirt and crushing his mouth to mine. His biting kisses hurt in the best way possible, and I groan into his mouth.

“Jackson is dead if he ever tries to hurt you again,” he warns as I fist the hairs at his nape. A part of me secretly enjoys his threats and how possessive he is. The feeling is mutual. If anyone ever hurts him or tries to steal him from me, I’ll burn them alive. I deepen the kiss, my tongue invading his mouth, and he slips his hands underneath my T-shirt to explore my muscled chest. I break away from his lips to catch my breath, and we gaze at each other as the seconds turn into minutes.

“Thank you for turning up tonight.” I capture his lips and taste him again. It’s official—I’m addicted to Cole’s kisses and trembling touches.

Pulling away, he reaches for the bottle of antiseptic, and I keep my eyes locked on his face while he uncaps the lid and soaks the cloth. I doubt he knows how unbelievably perfect he is or how my heart skips a beat every time he lifts those dark eyes to mine.

“This will hurt,” he warns as he puts the bottle back on the sink. I swallow as he reaches for my hand and turns it over. His thumb skims the gash. At the same time, his brows knit together, and he looks pained.

“I can do it myself,” I offer, but he shakes his head.

“No… It’s my fault.”

I hiss as he presses the cloth to my hand. Fuck me, that stings.

“None of this is your fault.”

“Jackson blames me for getting kicked off the team,” Cole says. “He knows how I feel about you, and he’ll use you to get at me.”

“But that’s bullshit,” I reply. “Jackson got kicked off the team because of my dad.” I hiss again, trying to pull my hand back, but he tightens his grip and gives me a warning look.

“Stay still.”

“I can leave the team,” I offer. “I never wanted to be on the team anyway⁠—”

“Shut up,” Cole growls, a muscle working madly in his jaw while he cleans my wounded palm. “Jackson is off the team because he’s slacking. He has no one to blame but himself.”

“Even so, I’ll quit.”

“Say that one more time, and I’ll punch you.”

I smile, and he looks up from beneath his messy mop of hair. “I would rather fuck you,” I admit. “But if you’d rather fight…”

Cole smiles, too, and my heart flutters—fucking flutters. I look down at my hand and will my stirring dick to go down. Now isn’t the time to touch him.

“Jackson knows about us?”

Cole stiffens before reaching for my other hand. “He knows I’m gay.”

“You’re gay?” I ask, curious about his sexuality. I assumed he was bisexual.

Shrugging, Cole pours more antiseptic on the cloth and proceeds to cut me open with his careful touches. “So what if I am?”

“I like it,” I reply, and he looks at me questioningly.

“I mean… At least I don’t have to worry about killing all the women who flirt with you.”

He snorts, amused, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Now I just have to beat the men off with a stick. No, screw that. Any man who flirts with you will regret ever being born.”

Cole chuckles, and I sober. “I’m sorry I punched you back there.”

“You had no way of knowing it was me.”

“I know,” I reply, “but the thought of ever hurting you…”

“You won’t hurt me,” Cole says as he wraps my hands in bandages.

I wish I could feel as confident as he sounds, but sometimes, I fear myself and the lengths I’ll go to protect him. Sometimes, I worry he’ll get caught in the crossfire. And someday, the people we care about will find out about us. Someday, we’ll tear our families apart.

In the end, I will hurt him. It’s inevitable.

Cold air sawsthrough my battered lungs, and twigs break underfoot. I weave through spindly trees, pumping my legs harder, pushing my body to the limit to get away from the masked man. Excitement quickens my breath as I glance behind me. He’s gaining on me, and my body flushes hot. I want him to catch me, but I also want to draw out the chase. This unhinged side of Cole makes me so damn hard. It’s as if someone unchained his dark, starving side and let it lose in the forest.

Branches slap me in the face, but I can barely feel the stinging pain because I’m too high on adrenaline and the rush of the chase. Jumping over a fallen log, I land in a stream of icy water, which quickly soaks through my shoes and socks. I spin around, only to see the masked man step over the log as though he has all the time in the world to hunt me, and I realize, as he rests the baseball bat on his shoulder, that he’s dragging it out on purpose for the same reason as me. He enjoys the chase, too.

Stumbling back, my foot catches on an exposed root, and I fall to the damp ground. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest as I glance around for a stick or a rock to use as a weapon, but there’s nothing within reach. He tilts his head sideways to study me, and pinecones sink into the mossy ground as he stalks me.

Crawling backward like a crab, I spin around and launch myself to my feet. There’s no time to think and no time to strategize. I run like my life depends on it, and the faster I run, the harder my dick gets. Raising my arms to protect my face, I barrel through the branches of two fir trees. The forest is denser here, and the moss is wetter. I’ve lost track of time since my stepbrother caught my scent like a predator in the night, but I’d lie if I said I didn’t enjoy playing the role of the helpless prey.

I make the swift decision to grab a broken branch off the forest floor. It’s heavy in my hands and takes effort to hold upright, but it’ll do just fine. When Cole emerges, slapping the fir branches out of the way with his bat, I swing at him and knock him off his feet, but the victory is short-lived.

“Fuck,” he growls underneath his mask and rises to stand, unfolding to his full height like something out of a horror flick. I swear I almost come in my pants when he snarls at me. “You’ll regret that.”

Dropping the heavy branch, I bolt.

My T-shirt is soaked with sweat, and my thigh muscles burn. I can’t remember the last time I put this much effort into running. I play football, sure, but this is different. Thank fuck, I’m in good shape, or I would have collapsed by now. Behind me, Cole’s boots pound the forest floor, crushing red-capped mushrooms beneath his rubber soles. Pine needles stick to my jeans from my fall earlier, and I’m sure my hands are covered in grime, but the eerie setting is perfect.

Darkness soon settles over the forest, and an owl’s hoot penetrates the sound of my heavy pants.

I emerge into a clearing and pause at the sight of a derelict old building. Shivers race down my spine as I take in the broken windows and the vines crawling across the weathered brick. The door is long gone, and now the entryway gapes like a dark void.

“Fuck,” I breathe, then glance behind me. There’s no sign of Cole. Only silence surrounds me now. Even the owl has stopped hooting.

Turning around to scan the tree line, I inch closer to the house, deciding that the creepy house is less of a threat than my chaser with his bat. But that’s a lie. My dick tells me as much when it jumps at the thought of seeing him enter the clearing.

Something breaks through the branches to my left, making my heart stutter, and I look down in time to see a large rock roll close to my shoes.

Fuck…

Inhaling a steadying breath, I will the organ in my chest to get a grip. He’s trying to psyche me out, and it’s working.

I lift my gaze and stiffen. Shadowed by the fir trees, his mask peers at me from behind the spindly branches. He shifts, and something else catches my eye. There’s no sign of the bat, his previous weapon of choice.

“Fuck me,” I choke, staring at the carved hunting knife in his hand. My throat jumps as he tilts his head, and I swear he smiles underneath the mask. A trickle of fear licks my spine and mixes with the growing thrill. I don’t know how to feel, and it makes me dizzy.

Before I can explore the heady concoction of emotions, instinct takes over. I whirl around and dart for the house. There’s no time to think and no time to process what the hell is happening, or why he’s armed with a knife, or what he plans to do with it.

I enter through the doorway, kicking up dried leaves as I run down the dark hall. How this building still stands is a mystery. It reeks of rot and decay. Covering my nose with my hand, I come to a stop at the bottom of the staircase. I could escape upstairs, but the steps are wooden, and there’s no telling if they’ll collapse beneath my weight, though judging by the foul smell, it’s not worth the risk.

“Blaaaiiiise.” His voice booms behind me, and I curse under my breath and escape into the nearest room.

An overturned couch in the middle of the small space and a mannequin by the window are the only items here. There’s nowhere to hide.

“Shit,” I whisper, my head whipping from left and right in search of something to use to fight him off, but there’s nothing. When his heavy footsteps fall silent in the doorway, I know my time is up. Short of launching myself at the broken window at my back, there’s nowhere to go.

My breath catches when he crosses the threshold. This is it. I watch, unmoving, as he makes a show of rounding the couch to get to me. Maybe I should take my chances with the shards of glass lining the window frame, after all.

At the memory of escaping through the window at Jackson’s party, my wounded palms throb.

“I bet your dick is leaking for me,” Cole taunts, the rotten floorboards creaking beneath his weight.

His raspy voice is my undoing. I almost groan out loud at the ominous undertones.

“I bet you’re throbbing.”

My eyes fall to the gleaming knife, and my stomach tightens in response. I shouldn’t want him to use it on me, but I can’t deny the thrill.

He takes another step, and the complaining wood causes a spike of anxiety to rush through me. I throw myself over the couch and tumble to the floor, rolling through debris and dried leaves. I’m up on my feet in the next second, propelled forward by adrenaline. As I run for the doorway, something hits my back. I fall again. My chin smacks off the hard floor, and it takes a few seconds for the pain to register, but then it blooms across my shoulder blades.

What the hell?

What was nothing more than a trickle of fear before is now a burst dam that destroys everything in its path. I can’t get away. I’m wounded and unable to run. As his footsteps sound behind me, I try to crawl forward, my nails catching in the ridges. I cough, and blood splutters from my mouth.

He yanks the knife from my back and wipes the bloodied blade on his jeans while I continue to army crawl toward the door. It’s useless, I know it, but my brain still urges me to fight.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his voice morphing and twisting. “Are you in a hurry somewhere, little brother?”

A choked sob escapes me as he grabs my hair and hauls me up. Grappling with his wrists, I scratch and claw. Nothing works to dislodge him. I even try to kick out at him, but I’m weak, and blood is quickly soaking my T-shirt.

“On your fucking knees where you belong,” he snarls, pressing the knife to the underside of my chin when I continue to fight. “Maybe you should have checked if it was really Cole before you let a masked man chase you down like an injured rabbit.” He tears off his mask and tosses it to the side before flicking his blond hair out of his eyes. “But you don’t really care who hunts you, do you? As long as you get off on this little…kink of yours.”

Swaying on my knees, I glare at Jackson.

I should have known he wouldn’t let last night go. His ego was wounded at the party, and now it’s no longer about Cole—it’s personal.

“You want cock, is that it?” He laughs, cupping his junk.

I open my mouth to snarl at him, when a familiar voice says, “You should force it down his throat while I record it on my phone.”

Allie leans against the doorframe, with Jackson’s discarded baseball bat resting against her shoulder and a mask dangling from her fingers. She flashes me a cold smile. “It would make a perfect parting gift for Cole.” Pushing off the doorframe, her heels click on the floorboards. “Did you really think you could get away? You stole what’s mine, Blaise.”

“Fuck you,” I growl, and Jackson whacks me with the knife’s handle. My head whips to the side, and pain radiates through my skull. I bite down hard on my tongue to keep from whimpering. Fuck that. I refuse to show weakness.

While my head pounds, I’m vaguely aware of Jackson securing my wrists behind me with a zip tie. Allie keeps talking, but I struggle to make sense of her distorted words. She’s blurring before my eyes. One minute, there’s one of her, and then there’s two. Laughter bubbles from my lips, my face wet with blood. Jackson must have split my brow when he hit me with the knife’s handle.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jackson snarls, fisting my hair and exposing my throat with a hard pull on the matted strands. A sharp sting follows as the blade nicks my skin.

Allie’s heels sound on the floor, and she slows to a stop in front of me. “Did you really think Cole could want someone like you? I’ll let you in on a secret.” She crouches down in her too-tight jeans and tries to cup my cheek, but I pull away.

If only I could strangle her with my bare hands. I’d love to watch the terror in her eyes as I squeeze the breath from her lungs. I bet she’s pretty when she’s dead.

Undeterred, she digs her sharp nails into my chin. “He likes a wet pussy.”

I bare my teeth. “I’m going to kill you.”

“The only one who will die here tonight is you.” Patting my cheek, she stands up and nods to Jackson behind me. It’s all the warning I get before a piercing pain trails a hot path across my throat, and I choke as blood pours from the deep gash.

Allie pretends to pout. “Don’t worry about Cole. I’ll be his shoulder to cry on.”

“And his cum bucket.” Jackson chuckles, shoving me forward. My head hits the grimy floor as I topple over. I drown in my own blood, my body jerking as a sharp heel digs into my cheek. Allie peers down at me through the strands of her cascading hair. “I’ll see you in Hell, Blaise⁠—”

I startle awake with a gasp and clutch the quilt to my sweaty chest. Fuck… The nightmare is still vivid in my mind, and it takes me a couple of seconds, or maybe minutes, to gain my bearings. I’m in Cole’s bed. His side is empty.

“Fuck me,” I breathe, scrubbing at my face. What the hell was that dream? It seemed so fucking real.

I drop my hand and check the time on Cole’s nightstand. It’s still early hours. Where is he? How is he awake already after letting me paint him in cum not once but three times last night?

Flopping onto my back, I drag my hands down my face but pause when the door opens. I peek between my fingers to see Cole, dressed in only his black boxers, enter the room with a tray of…breakfast. He must see the look on my face when I lower my hands because he sniggers as he takes a seat on the mattress. “Don’t look so shocked. I figured you would be hungry after last night.”

And just like that, I’m hard again. I swear he’s a drug. One fix was all it took, and now I’ll never get enough.

I sit up, and he puts the tray on my lap.

Cole shrugs, looking anywhere but in my direction.

He’s nervous.

The thought makes me smile, and I reach for a slice of buttered toast, moaning as I take a bite.

Cole rests his elbows on his thighs and pretends to be very interested in his hands. It’s cute how he can let go of his inhibitions and choke me with his dick, but something as simple as making someone else breakfast is uncharted territory. I like that. It makes me think that maybe he never did this for Allie.

“Is it okay?” he asks, peering at me over his shoulder. “I… You like bacon.”

“I do,” I confirm, picking up a slice and taking a bite. It’s crispy, just how I like it. “This is the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”

He snorts, shaking his head, and I can’t help but smile too. Cole thinks I’m lying, but I’m not. If only he knew the butterflies he lets loose in my stomach like I’m a teenage girl with a crush.

“Are you okay?” he asks, turning his body to face me. “You’re sweaty.”

I take another bite of the bacon, my stomach churning at the memory of my nightmare, and lift a shoulder in a shrug. “I had a bad dream, is all.”

“About last night?”

My chewing slows. I’m not hungry now that I’m remembering the feel of Allie’s heel on my cheek.

“Can I take you somewhere today?” he asks in a scratchy voice, then clears his throat. I study him, my heart beating harder when he meets my gaze. I’ve never seen him this nervous before. “Of course.”

He nods as if my confirmation settles it, whatever it is.

His eyes fall to my almost empty plate, and the tips of his ears redden. It’s the most endearing thing I’ve seen. The mighty Cole blushing? I never thought I’d see the day.

I place the tray beside me on the mattress. “I need a shower first.”

“Sure,” Cole replies, wetting his lips, but he makes no move to stand up, and I don’t either. We stare at each other, exploring this new uncharted territory between us. I want to hold him. It sounds like such a small thing, but it’s not. I’ve woken up next to Mia for months, and not once did my heart hammer like it does in Cole’s presence. I want to make him happy. I want to see him smile.

His eyes roam my face before falling to my lips, and he crawls forward, never taking his eyes off my mouth. I hold my breath when he’s close enough for our noses to brush. He keeps staring at my mouth like he wants to devour me, and it’s all I can do not to launch myself off the bed.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks, his breath skating across my lips like a whispered kiss.

“What are you doing to me?” I counter, and he smiles, his eyes clashing with mine.

Fuck…He has the most breathtaking smile—a smile with the power to soften the most hardened hearts.

Leaning in slowly, he trails his warm hand up my bare chest. “Keep looking at me like that.” His fingers explore each ridge of muscle, and I shudder with pleasure at the feel of his ghosting touch. Circling each nipple, he skims his fingers higher in a teasing caress. I’m panting by the time he trails across my collarbones. How can he hold this power over me when no one else has come close? He pauses at my pulse point, and I shiver.

I’m hard and putty in his hands all at once. I’m feral yet tamed. I’m…his.

“Come,” he whispers against my lips before easing back. I’m left reeling, my mouth dry. “Let’s take a shower,” he says and pulls me to my feet. I would follow him off a cliff. I’d jump so fucking fast if he asked. The realization hits me like a wrecking ball.

He guides me into the bathroom and, with his eyes locked on mine, shuts the door behind us. “You make me feel seen,” he says, pulling me toward the shower. “I like the way you look at me.”

I gulp as we step behind the frosted glass. Cole blinks as the water beats down on him, and droplets cling to his dark lashes as his hair sticks to his forehead. I pull him to me by his hips, feeling the wet fabric of his boxers beneath my fingers. “I see you,” I confirm and drop my lips to his. As the water soaks our hair, we kiss like it’ll be our last. Cole’s kisses are ravenous and desperate, and so are mine. We claw at each other, our tongues battling for dominance.

I’m in love with you, Cole.

Breaking away, I pant to catch my breath. Cole caresses my cheek, his forehead pressed to mine. I don’t want to ruin this moment with words, so I keep them locked away.

Switching off the shower, he reaches for the bottle of mint-scented shampoo and squirts some onto his palm. Then he sets to work washing my hair, and the pleasurable sensation of his fingers on my scalp sends a groan through my chest.

“If you tell anyone on the football team that I made you breakfast and washed your hair, I will kill you,” he teases, and I can’t help but laugh. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

I groan again as his fingers slide across my scalp. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Chuckling, he spikes my hair up before stepping back to inspect his handiwork.

“Do you like what you see?” I ask suggestively and wiggle my eyebrows. He hums, looking pleased with his efforts. I’m too distracted by his mischievous smile and wet hair to see him place his hand on the shower tap. Cold water pours down on me, and I squeal like a pig while he laughs like the fucking devil that he is.

My teeth chatter and my usually impressive dick has fled for warmer pastures. I point a finger in his direction. “You’ll regret that.”

Chuckling to himself, he exits the shower. “You sure know how to sing some high notes, asshole.”