Page 32 of Coco and the Misfits (The Candyverse #4)

ZACH

“Z ach. Here for another tattoo?”

I look up and wouldn’t you know. Ryder. Again . Talk about rotten luck.

“What’s the matter, man?” He sort of steps in my way. “Are you okay?”

“Like I told you last time, it’s none of your business. I’m just passing by. This is my neighborhood.”

“The way you walk tells me you’re hurt. I’ve been in a lot of scrapes in my life. Lots of fights. If you’re hurt, let me take a look, at least.”

“Fuck, man.” I stop and rub my face with both hands. “What’s it to you? What do you care?”

“Like I told you last time,” he smirks, “Coco likes you.”

“So what? Now you have decided you like her? After fucking her and pushing her away?”

“What are you going to do about it? Fight me?” A dark brow arches. “Over her?”

“What if I do? She has to mean a lot to you if you’re willing to come to blows over her.”

“You have no idea,” he says darkly.

“Then why push her away?”

“Why do you think? Didn’t you hear a word I’ve told you so far? I’m a black sheep. A bastard. I don’t deserve her. And she deserves better.”

Well, fuck. That was the last thing I expected him to say. It sure makes me look at him in a different light, although it doesn’t change what he did. He’s still a son of a bitch for hurting her.

Like you did? By running away?

Damn…

What if Ryder knows what to do? He’s the last person I should ask about this. Yet… he doesn’t really know me. Doesn’t seem to give a fuck.

Which makes him the perfect candidate.

“I can hear those gears turning inside that blond head of yours,” he drawls, taking a drag of his rolled-up cigarette. “You’re trying to decide if you want to deck me or trust me, am I right?”

“What are you, a mind reader now?”

“Touchy.” His grin is crooked. “You’re damn young.”

“I’m not too young to punch you in the dick.”

He laughs. “Right. Feel free to fuck off. I don’t have all day to baby you, boy.”

He’s pushing all my buttons and yet I don’t walk away. There’s something about him, something dark, beautiful… and familiar.

He reminds me of myself, and I don’t know why. There’s a hurt there, covered up with tattoos and spikes, hidden in the curling smoke from his cigarette.

He doesn’t hate me, I realize. He isn’t annoyed with me, despite his acting. He’s… cautiously interested. He kinda likes me, for some obscure reason.

“It’s…” I puff out air. “It has to do with Coco.”

“You have a hard-on when it comes to her. I can see it. She’s such a pretty girl.”

“The prettiest,” I say.

He nods as if he expected this, or thought the same. “Yeah. An omega unlike most omegas. So vibrant.”

“So full of life.”

“And sass.”

I snort. “Yep.”

“So what’s wrong? Tell your tattoo artist. I take confessions on Fridays.” He throws his cigarette to the ground and steps on it. “Better come on in. From your hesitation, I doubt it’s something you wanna discuss on the street.”

“You guessed right,” I mutter, following him into the shop. We walk past a few seated customers and into his cubicle. I barely remember it from that night. It’s a small room really, the walls reaching the ceiling, giving real privacy. Probably to keep the noise level down inside the shop.

He parks his ass on the counter, folding tattooed arms over his broad chest, which only leaves me the leather chair to sit on.

“Are we playing doctor?” I ask drily, sitting down.

He smirks. “We’re overdressed for that.”

He looks good in his black tank top and ripped jeans. All that ink, swirling over his hands, his muscular arms, his neck… it suits him.

He nods at me. “Did the tattoo heal okay?”

“Yeah. Wanna see?”

“Looking for an excuse to show off your bodybuilder body again?”

“I’m not a bodybuilder,” I say, offended. “I teach martial arts.” Then I blink. “You noticed my chest?”

“Don’t get your boxers in a twist. I’m into girls, mostly, though you’re pretty.”

“Pretty?” I splutter. “Fuck y?—?”

“But I wasn’t coming onto you.” A dark brow arches. “Interesting reaction, though. Do you mind guys fucking?”

“Of course not.” I glare at him. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know. Some people suck. And do you mind guys watching while you fuck?”

“… No.” I have to think about it. “But I’m not into kink.”

He laughs. “If you consider this a kink, boy, you’re more vanilla than a vanilla cake with vanilla frosting.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Boy? Or vanilla?”

“I’m not a boy,” I snarl. “You’re barely older than me.”

“If you say so. Tell me what the problem is, man .”

I rub a hand over my face. “You’re so damn annoying.”

“Thanks. I work hard at it. Now…” Another nod. “Spill.”

Why am I doing this? I should ask a doctor. I’ve been busy. Keeping myself busy, that is. Taking on extra classes. Jogging until I can’t breathe. Playing video games.

Trying not to think.

“Have you ever… Fuck, this is embarrassing.” I surge up from the chair. “Forget it.”

“Nope.” He shoves me back down. “Whatever it is, it’s been eating at you. Talk.”

I glare. “It’s about knots.”

“My specialty. I’m listening.” He actually seems to be, head cocked to the side, expression serious. “I promise I won’t tell anyone what you tell me, if that helps.”

It does. It’s the reason why I’m sitting here, about to spill my guts to this virtual stranger, the man who slept with Coco. It’s crazy.

“Have you ever popped a knot?” I start, then pause. “After kissing a girl. Or touching her. Or being around her.”

His eyes narrow. “It has happened once or twice.”

“But what if it happens every time you are near her? And it persists?”

His brows bunch together. He grimaces and puts a hand over his mouth.

“Fuck, I’m dying, right?” I demand. “Give it to me straight. I have some sort of incurable cancer, don’t I?”

“The knot disease.” He guffaws. Fuck him, he’s actually laughing at me. “I’m no doctor, kid. Man ,” he hurries to correct himself. “But I know what you have.”

“What then?”

“Acute infatuation.”

“Fuck you.” Heat rushes to my face. “I thought we were having a serious conversation.”

“We are. You’re still kind of young.” He lifts his hands when I open my mouth. “Just stating facts. And you’re hard about a girl. Let me guess: it’s Coco.”

I nod, fuming.

“There is a vestigial condition in alphas that resurfaces from time to time. I have a cousin who had the exact same thing.”

“You do?” Hope flares. “So what is this thing?”

“My friend... you’re going into an alpha rut.”