Chapter 8 - Stone

As I step through the open doorway of the two-story house, my ears are greeted by Beartooth blasting through the surround sound system, bass thumping so hard I feel it in my chest.

I don’t go to many parties. Between hockey and classes and counting the notches on the handle of my favorite knife, I have enough going on as it is. But when Nate asked me to come, I knew it’d be a good idea to hang with the team off the ice.

And maybe use it as an opportunity to make sure Callum really is okay.

He came to class today, and I returned his lab manual to him. But he was quiet. Which isn’t completely out of character, but…it was a different kind of quiet. He didn’t even make a point to remind me how much he hates me.

A few of the guys from the team are standing just within the entrance, red plastic cups in their hands. They all give me nods as I step inside.

“You guys know where Nate is?” I ask over the pounding music. Not so much because it’s Nate I want to see. I figure Callum is probably with him.

“Last time I saw him, he was in the kitchen,” Ben, one of our second-line defensemen, answers.

“Thanks.”

I head through the house, passing the living room where the large sectional is crowded with people. Most of them are chatting, nursing their drinks, and laughing. A few of them are sitting on laps. Or straddling them, grinding, and making out. There are a couple guys going at each other’s mouths, locked in a tongue battle.

My eyes scan every face for Callum’s.

Nate and Brooks share this place with a couple other guys who aren’t on the hockey team, so there are a lot of people here I’ve never seen. But it’s not like I’ve had much time to form a social life since I’ve moved here.

Entering the kitchen, I immediately spot Callum standing by the island that’s piled high with red cups and bottles of liquor. He’s holding a cup of his own while he talks with Nate.

Nate says something, and Callum laughs.

A strange mix of things strikes me in the chest when I hear that sound.

First, there’s relief. Callum is at ease, laughing, having fun. Maybe it’s all a distraction, but at least right now, he’s okay.

Second, there’s something that feels a lot like jealousy.

Whenever he’s around me, he’s tense and on edge, shooting daggers with his eyes every chance he gets. Never showing even a hint of a genuine smile like the one that’s on his face now, the one that’s brightening up the room.

I consider turning around and leaving. Not because of this unfamiliar jealousy that’s suddenly causing my insides to itch, making me want to cut off the ears of everyone else in the room who gets to hear Callum’s laughter.

I’ve seen what I came here to see. He’s okay.

“Yo, Wakefield!”

Nate spots me before I can make a run for it. I walk across the kitchen toward them, trying to ignore the way Callum’s face falls the moment his eyes are on me.

Why the fuck does that bother me so much all of a sudden?

I’ve never been the jealous type. I’ve been in several relationships, with both men and women, and a few of those were even open ones. My last one was more a friends-with-benefits kind of situation with my roommate, and it never upset me when he hooked up with other people.

I’m not even in a goddamn relationship with Callum, and I’m about ready to fucking steal him away from all these people.

“Nice party, Simmons,” I say as he slaps his hand against mine.

“What’s your poison?” he asks with a bit of a slur as he motions to all the alcohol on the kitchen island, his eyes glazed over.

“I’m not planning on staying too long, and I gotta drive. Just wanted to make an appearance.”

“Very responsible,” he says with a lopsided grin. “I approve.”

“Says the guy who’s wasted.”

“Hey, I’m already at home. I can have as much as I want.” As though to punctuate his point, he picks up a bottle and pours more liquid into his cup before offering the whiskey to Callum.

Callum takes it and damn near fills his cup. With his eyes on me, he takes a long drink.

He doesn’t look drunk, but he might be by the time he finishes that one.

“Nate!”

We all turn toward the entrance of the kitchen where two women, a striking blonde and a stunning brunette, are practically holding each other up with their arms linked as they half walk, half stumble over to us.

“We’re going to go smoke,” the blonde tells Nate. “Come out back with us?”

“You know I can’t smoke, ladies.”

“You don’t have to. Just come with us.”

“Please,” the brunette begs, looking at him with what I’m pretty sure are her bedroom eyes that no man in existence could resist.

“Oh, who’s the new boy?” The blonde turns her pretty blue eyes toward me. “You wanna come too?”

I don’t know why I do it, but I look at Callum.

He’s staring at me with a bored expression. However, I swear I see his jaw tick.

Turning back to the women, I give them a polite smile. “No, thank you. You guys have fun.”

As Nate moves past us, he gives me and Callum a wink. “Later, bitches.”

The brunette grabs onto his hand that’s not wrapped around his cup and pulls him with them toward the back door. His head tilts to the side so he can stare at her ass as she walks.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Captain,” I call after him.

He peers back at me with a grin, raising his arm and causing alcohol to slosh out of his cup. “Fortunately, I don’t know you well enough yet to know what that is.”

I let out a quiet laugh and shake my head as they all disappear outside.

Turning back to Callum, I find him still staring at me.

All these people in this house, and his attention is fixed on me.

I shouldn’t be obsessed with that as much as I am.

“What about you?” I ask as I nod at the drink in his hand. “You better not be driving tonight.”

When he laughs, it lacks humor, and I get the feeling he’s a bit more drunk than he seems. “I don’t have a car. My roommate’s driving us.”

“And is this roommate as wasted as you and Nate?”

Callum’s eyes narrow, his brow dipped low as he studies me, searching for whatever question is running through his mind before he finally voices it out loud. “Why do you care?”

He asks it like the question has plagued him for so long that he’ll die without an answer.

I give him the only one I can.

“You’re my teammate, dumbass.”

He nods, rolls his eyes, and lets out a huff through his nose. “Right.”

Well, what the fuck was I supposed to say?

The protector in me wants to keep you safe?

The beast in me wants to fucking devour you? Ruin you? Touch you until you never want to be touched by anyone else?

Yeah, I’m sure all that would’ve gone over much better.

I’m considering giving him at least a little more when someone comes up behind him so fast that he pitches forward as the guy slams into his back. Whiskey splashes from Callum’s cup and onto the floor at my feet.

The protector and the beast nearly spring into action.

But then Callum laughs with recognition.

“Where’ve you been?” the guy asks, still standing behind him as he throws an arm over Callum’s shoulder. He rests his chin on his other shoulder and pouts. “I’m bored without you.”

“You don’t sound bored,” Callum says, still laughing.

“Maybe I’m not anymore.” The stranger blows a strand of light brown hair out of his face as his eyes rake up and down my body. “Where’ve you been hiding this one, Cal?”

I might be flattered if my view of this guy clinging to Callum wasn’t bathed in red.

Callum turns his head to the side, and for once , his glare is aimed at someone other than me. “Don’t.”

The way the single word comes out as a growl between gritted teeth sends a surprising flare of heat down my spine.

The flirt’s eyes go wide. His drunk grin only grows as he takes a step back with his hands in the air in mock surrender. “Message received loud and clear. He’s taken.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Callum mutters as he reaches up and rubs the bridge of his nose.

As soon as Callum drops his hand, the guy bops him on the tip of his nose. “S’okay, pookie. You know I’m not the jealous type.”

Yeah, I’m not usually either.

But I swear if this guy touches him or calls him pookie again, someone’s getting their arm ripped off.

Fuck.

I think it’s safe to say my obsession with this boy is starting to reach dangerous levels.

This is exactly why I don’t make shit personal.

I knew this side of me existed, and I’ve tried my damn hardest to restrain it, to keep it locked away in chains. Because I knew as soon as it set its eyes on someone, there was no stopping it from breaking free.

If Callum and I are both lucky, I’ll be able to control it long enough to get it back inside its cage.

“Jesse, please leave,” Callum practically begs him, exasperated.

“Fine, fine.” Jesse starts walking backward, bumping into bodies on his way. “Just remember there are rooms upstairs, boys.”

Callum rolls his eyes and grumbles, “For fuck’s sake.”

“And that was?” I ask as I scowl after Jesse, willing him to trip and maybe break a bone or cut open an important artery on something sharp.

“My roommate.”

He downs what’s left in his cup and reaches for the bottle of whiskey to fill it again. I nearly reach out and grab his wrist to stop him. But I can’t. I know exactly how that would go, and I’m not willing to cause a scene.

He’s not mine .

“On that note, it looks like I’ll be walking home.”

Putting the cup to his lips, he tips it back. I watch as his Adam’s apple moves with a swallow.

“Let me give you a ride.”

He might not be mine, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting him walk home drunk.

Callum empties his cup yet again, then tosses it into the nearest trash can. When he looks back at me, his expression is more weary than hostile. “Stop, Stone. Just fucking stop.”

He starts to walk away, swaying a little to one side.

If he wasn’t drunk before, he definitely is now.

“Stop what?” I ask as I follow him through the crowd.

He doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t slow down as he heads for the front door of the house.

“Callum! Tell me what I’m supposed to stop, and I’ll stop.”

Maybe.

After weaving and stumbling his way past people, he manages to get a few steps ahead of me and out the door. I rush after him and down the porch stairs. Once we’re in a more open area on the front lawn, I grab onto his arm.

I anticipate the fist that comes flying through the air as he spins around. With his sluggish movements, I’m able to duck and avoid it. When he nearly tumbles over from the inertia, I pull him upright and maneuver him out of sight of the front door. Shoving him against the nearest tree, I pin him against the trunk with my forearm against his chest.

His eyes darken as his pupils dilate.

The beast in me wants it to be fear.

The protector in me needs it to be something else. Want. Desire.

Surrender.

“You’re drunk,” I snarl in his face. “You need to fucking chill.”

His body slumps as the fight leaves him, his chest heaving beneath me. His face turns down into a frown, and his next words come out like a desperate plea. “Stop trying to save me.”

Never.

“Don’t be dramatic,” I tell him, calming my tone, not wanting to set him off again. “I’m not trying to save you. It’s just a ride.”

His eyes bounce between mine, searching for the lie.

If he looked hard enough and long enough, he’d probably find it.

He’d also probably see glimpses of all the thoughts running through my head while I have him in this position. Trapped. At the mercy of whatever I wanted to do with him. Coming apart with the world of pleasure I could give him. Convincing him he really does want to belong to someone, that he really does want to be mine.

All the thoughts that are becoming increasingly harder to resist.

He shoves me off, runs his hand down his wrinkled shirt, and mutters, “Fine.”

“Fine.” We stare at each other for another few seconds before I can finally manage more words than that. “Let’s go.”

I head off across the lawn toward my car, hoping he’ll follow. He does. I nearly open the passenger door for him before I think twice.

My knight in shining armor complex really needs to take a fucking backseat.

I nearly laugh at that as I throw open the driver side door and get into the car.

A knight in shining armor is only protective.

But with me?

Protective turns into possessive.

Possessive turns into obsessive.

Once compulsion hits, there’s no going back. No erasing the mark he’d leave on my soul that’s destined for purgatory.

Maybe not hell, but certainly not heaven.

I start the car just as Callum climbs inside. He crosses his arms over his chest, shoulders hunched, sagging in the seat. I get the hint, granting him a silent ride as I drive to his apartment.

As soon as I pull up and park in the lot, he’s undoing his seat belt and opening the door.

“Callum.”

He stops but doesn’t look back at me. “What?”

Don’t do it.

Don’t do it.

Don’t fucking do it.

“Can you promise me something?”

He says nothing, but he also doesn’t leave. I take that as permission.

I really shouldn’t. He blew up only minutes before because he thought I was trying to play the role of his savior. And that was just after offering him a ride and helping him through a panic attack. I could get away with pretending that’s not at all what I’m trying to do if I could just shut my goddamn mouth.

But, fuck. My control is slipping.

“Promise you’ll tell me if anyone ever tries to hurt you.”

His shoulders tense. He peers back at me with more hatred in his eyes than I’ve seen yet. He scoffs and shakes his head. “Fuck you. You just couldn’t leave it the fuck alone, could you?”

“Leave what alone?”

He moves to get out of the car so fast that he nearly pitches forward onto the concrete. He catches himself and slams his door shut.

I’m out of the car before he can get far, once more rushing after him.

“Callum! Leave what alone?”

He spins around and marches toward me until we’re only a few feet apart. Half his face is in shadow, the other half flushed beneath the yellow glow from the lights fixed to the sides of the apartment complex. “What the fuck do you think, Stone? You’re the only one who ever fucking saw!”

Saw…

Oh.

The epiphany crashes into me like a tsunami, drowning me in every moment, every hint, when I should’ve realized the truth.

I’ve been a fucking moron.

“That’s why you hate me.” I don’t phrase it as a question. “Because I saw something I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Congratu-fucking-lations. Finally, figured it out, huh?”

“You blame me after all this time for something I couldn’t control?”

“You could control more than you think.”

He’s still drunk, so maybe he doesn’t even know what he’s talking about. Because I sure as hell don’t.

“Look, I realized it probably bothered you, but I didn’t think…” I sigh, frustrated, and run my hand over my face like if I can wipe my vision clear, I can press reset on this whole disaster of a night. “I’ve done my best not to—”

“Not to what? Not to look? Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Then, in one fluid motion, he grabs the bottom hem of his shirt and lifts it up, exposing his torso. Forcing me to look.

And there it is.

The final nail in the coffin that belongs to any piece of me that tried to not make this personal, to not care. To forget. To keep him safe from the darkest parts of me. The parts that are now breaking free of their cages and clawing their way to the surface, bleeding me dry with their claws and their teeth.

“You’re looking now, aren’t you?” he snaps.

Yes, I am.

The scars are faint, but they still stand out against his pale skin, illuminated by the apartment lights. There aren’t many, but there are a couple that look like they were once long, deep cuts. One across his lower abdomen. Another slashed halfway over his left side. There’s another mark near that one that looks suspiciously like a cigarette burn. But bigger. A cigar?

I don’t remember smelling tobacco smoke inside that house.

Tearing my gaze away takes one of the strongest bursts of will I’ve ever known.

“You need to get inside, Callum.” I hardly recognize my own voice. Deeper than usual, barely restraining all my fury. I think it belongs to the beast. “You don’t want to be around me right now.”

His eyes widen like he can see it.

See that I’m no longer me. No longer Stone.

Just the beast.

He slowly lowers his shirt and swallows. “Stone…”

I turn around before he can say anything else. I was planning on making sure he got up to the second floor okay, but navigating the stairs while a little drunk will be a lot less dangerous for him than me sticking around.

However, once I’m back inside my car, I change my mind and stay put. I parked in view of the stairs, so I wait and watch while Callum clumsily climbs his way up.

The second he makes it to the landing, my car is in gear and I’m peeling out of the lot.

I have to get the fuck out of here and fast.

What I really need is another fucking name.