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I want to own her, even though I have no fucking clue what owning people is all about.
It can’t be different from having pets then wanting to see inside them, right?
11
KILLIAN
“What the fuck is this? Shitting on my parade day?”
I don’t pause at Nikolai’s voice on my way inside the mansion. Instead, I reach the fridge and grab a bottle of water.
He throws the nearest object he can find at me, a Zippo, and I tilt my head to the side, letting it collide with the bottle of vodka. It shatters against the counter in a ceremony of glass and liquor.
“I’m assuming you’ll clean it up and replace my vodka,” Jeremy says from the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed.
“It’s my vodka. Fuck off.” My cousin shoves an ice pack on his swollen jaw and props his foot on the edge of the sofa.
Leaning against the counter, I cross my legs at the ankle. “Bad mood?”
“And you’re not? That loser won against you.”
I lift a shoulder. “I won something better than a meaningless match.”
Like Glyndon’s company and even a temporary truce from fighting me once she was watching those fireflies—and I wasn’t touching her.
She eventually relaxed once I forced my hand to remain still. Something that proved to be harder in practice than theory. Turning this into a habit is out of the question. After all, I only need her to get her guard down a little, let me in a little so I can figure her all out and, in retrospect, delve into the reasons behind my interest in her.
Am I ready to go the extra mile for that? Sure as fuck.
Considering the crease in her brows when I drove her back to her dorm, I’d say I still have a ways to go.
She’s a stubborn, hotheaded little shit, and I’m here for every fucking second of it.
Glyndon might be the solid, huge rock, but I’m water and water might slam into the rock at first, but it’ll eventually break through it.
“What’s better than winning, motherfucker?” Nikolai grunts. “Next time, don’t take my fight if you’re going to lose it. My image is at stake here, Satan’s heir.”
I pull out my pack of cigarettes and stare at it for a beat, remembering Glyndon’s words from earlier about poison. Then I shake my head and stuff one between my lips. “I assume you won the one after?”
“Barely,” Jeremy answers on his behalf, then heads to the minibar and pours himself a drink. “An art student nearly beat him to death first.”
“Bullshit!” Nikolai jumps up and points his ice pack at Jeremy. “I was only taking it easy on him at the beginning. And that bitch is no ordinary art student. He obviously works out.”
I raise a brow and blow out a trail of smoke. “Superhuman art student?”
“Maybe one of those comic book superheroes, huh?” Jeremy prompts. “Posh rich boy by day and vigilante by night.”
“With a mask, a cape, and a bat car.”
“Maybe a suit, too?”
“Fuck you both simultaneously.” Nikolai flops back against the sofa. “For your information, Landon was the reigning king in all the championships he participated inANDhe’s the current leader of the Elites.”
Jeremy props an elbow on the counter beside me and takes a sip of his drink. “Our Niko actually knows information like that? Since when?”
“Since Gareth was whispering in my ear. And what the fuck? I know all the information.”
“That implies you’ll use violence.”
