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But that doesn’t happen.
Because I’m in control.
I attempt to pull my hand from his warmer one, but he squeezes, tight, as if he’s attempting to crush my bones.
His grin widens, kicking the creep factor up a notch. “Do you like it? Your new name? Do you?”
“Let go,” I mutter from between clenched teeth.
“But why?” He appears genuinely puzzled. “You’re the one who offered to shake hands. I forgive you for pretending not to remember my unforgettable presence.”
“You need to check your ego.”
He looks down at himself and then smirks. “Perfectly awesome, thanks for asking.”
I want to pinch the bridge of my nose, but I can’t, because the bastard is holding my hand hostage, tightening his grip incrementally. The worst part is that I don’t think he even notices what he’s doing.
It hurts, damn it, but I’d dig myself a hole and rot in it before I’d admit that out loud.
“My hand,” I say in a thoroughly unaffected tone.
He squeezes more. “What about it?”
“Let it go.”
“Do I have to? It’s kind of soft and nice.”
He tightens his hold again, mushing the fingers together, and I have to stifle a goddamn…groan? What in the bleeding livid gates of hell?
Pain. It’s onlypain.
“I need my hand, so yes, you have to release it, Nikolai.”
“Fuck. I love the way you say my name. Though everything sounds amazing in that hot accent.” The gleam that I never quite managed to erase from my mind rushes back to the depths of his harsh eyes.
Turquoise blue. Brimming with sharp…curiosity? Violence?
It’s impossible to tell with the crazy twat.
He’s intensity on steroids.
An element I have no interest in whatsoever.
“I wonder how you’d say my name in other…moreintimatesituations.”
I pull my hand away so suddenly, he has no choice but to release me. “I told you to keep your gay flirtations away from me. I’m straight.”
”Hmm.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes watching me intently like a creep.
What does a whacko like him think about? Aside from violence, of course. The rumors about him beating people up for sport are all I heard about him prior to the initiation.
Maybe if I were more involved in the real world instead of pretending to be, I would’ve found out he likes men.
Though he obviously likes women as well. According to…uh, social media. I didn’t search for him. He somehow landed on one of Remi’s tagged pictures.
I have zero interest in where he dips his dick as long as he keeps it away from me.
“My AirPods,” I demand, not making the mistake of offering my hand this time.
