Page 11 of Her Wicked Knights (Their Hallowed Queen #3)

Colton

Every time I see her, I regret not taking things further than I did.

And I know I shouldn't. I should regret violating her, betraying her.

I should feel bad about touching her without her consent, but I fucking don't. I want all of her, and if the only way to have that is when she's asleep, then I can't feel too bad about it.

Maybe if I had just done it, I could get her out of my system.

And I need her out of my system. I can't think, can't focus, can't fucking breathe around the need that chokes everything inside of me.

It's why I don't notice Jake's passing the ball off to Chase Dunn until his hands grab it out of the air, and he tucks it into his arm, running down the field.

I'm probably the last person to have noticed despite being the one who's supposed to be offering him coverage.

Tommy Cruz is practically on him before I've even gotten my feet to move.

That, at least, is an advantage. Nobody is looking my way as I break off, skirting the crowd running ahead of me until I emerge between them and the goalpost.

Chase glances up, surveying his options, and notices me. His hand is in the air when someone from the other team, Triple Falls High, drags him to the ground. The ball slips from his hands, and the shrill sound of a whistle cutting through the air halts the people who were diving for the ball.

"Serenity's here with a first down."

The roar of the opposing team's fans is deafening as we hustle to take formation.

They've got possession of the ball, and the glaring red numbers on the scoreboard above the field show me we're down by nine.

A touchdown and a field goal can tie us up if we can get it together, and then we can rally in overtime.

Sweat stings my eyes as I look from the scoreboard to the stands, searching her out. She stands alone on the third row, her hands cupped around her mouth as she screams. For Jake.

The whistle blows and I take off toward the quarterback, my eyes on his arm as he plans out the best move. The rage in my veins boils over when he passes the ball to one of the players behind him. Fucking pussy, afraid to fumble.

I'm on the other guy before he can even take two steps, dragging him to the ground as the whistle blows shrill. "Number thirty two goes down, stopped by Serenity's number twenty three, Colton Hayes."

I scramble to my feet, trading a glance with Jake as we take back possession of the ball.

We've got thirty yards on Triple Falls. If Jake passes to Rev and I can block for him, we can run it all the way in.

The field is drastically open once you get past the cluster of fuckers on me.

They're all keeping their eye on me, waiting to take me down.

I might not even have to block, since they all seem to be expecting Jake to snap the ball to me.

He doesn't. But he doesn't snap it to Rev either.

He doesn't do anything, freezing. I see him look left and right, trying to find someone who's open.

Serenity's spreading out, though, seeing his panic to get rid of the ball.

Mark and Rev are the only two who are open, but Jake doesn't throw it to either of them.

Instead, he lets himself get tackled, and the ball slips from his useless hands.

I push out from the sea of players trying to block me and attempt to scoop the ball before it hits the ground, but I'm not fast enough, sliding onto the ground as the whistle blows. "Dead ball!" The referee yells.

"Fuck!" I growl, my irritation surging. We haven't picked up any leverage, and the clock is running between these garbage plays.

We take formation again, and I can see Jake assessing the play, trying to decide who to throw to before the whistle blows.

He runs the ball, bringing it against his chest as he dives between two of Triple Falls' defense, spinning a little. I run, taking off to cover his dumbass. Nobody expected him to run it, which would be a good thing, except not even his own team was prepared for this move.

I see the player coming up ahead of him, and we have no one to take him down. Jake has to get rid of the ball or he's going to get taken down again.

"Rev's open!" I yell, closing the distance between us so he can hear. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the flash of blue and white as someone rushes at Jake.

I push myself harder, faster, closing the distance until I'm on his ass. The player turns at the last moment, colliding with me before I can push him off. We crash into one another, and we take Jake down with us, fumbling the ball.

The ref blows on his whistle, pausing the game. Jake slams his fist against the ground, clearly pissed at having lost possession. He jumps up easily, though, ready to fight whoever took him to his knees. When he sees me dragging myself to my feet, his outrage grows.

"Twenty-three just sacked his own quarterback!" The commentator laughs. "You don't see that every day."

"The fuck, Colt?" Jake snaps, puffing his chest up as if he'd actually throw hands. As if he'd stand a fucking chance.

I laugh, licking the trickle of blood off my busted lip and bending down to retrieve my helmet. I haven't even got a chance to get it back on my head before Coach screams across the field, pulling me out of the game.

It's a bad decision, and one that costs us the game.

Not even two minutes after he pulls me from the play, Triple Falls returns the ball, running straight into the end zone with ease.

We may as well have laid down and let them run over us with their cleats, because nobody even makes an attempt to stop them.

With less than two minutes to go, it wouldn't make a difference.

Jake glares at me as he returns to the sidelines, taking his helmet off and tossing it at the bottom of the bleachers, where it comes to a stop on the cement.

I didn't sack him on purpose, but I kind of wish I had.

I want to wipe that pissy fucking look off his face.

"The fuck, Hayes?"

"The fuck, North?" I snap back, rising to the challenge. "You forget what the quarterback's job is or something? You're supposed to help your team get the ball, not hold it like a pussy."

"Knock it off, Gentlemen." Coach cuts in before Jake can think of anything to hit back with, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling up at where the mayor is standing behind the retaining wall, not paying the least bit of attention. He's too busy talking to... my fucking mother.

"Look at that," Jake muses, leaning over to clap me on the shoulder. "We could be brothers, the way we always wanted to be when we were kids."

I shove away from them, trying to pretend I didn't see my mother here. Neither she nor the mayor have ever shown up to a game to support us. It reeks of an ulterior motive.

"That was a close one." Rev says, joining us with the faint lift of his lips betraying a smirk. I'm not sure what's so funny about losing the game; right now, he's the only one who doesn't look pissed.

"You know we lost, right?" I snap, pushing past him to get to the locker room. If I grab my stuff and go, I can get out of here before coach launches into his 'I expected better out of you boys' speech.

"Yeah," he shrugs, catching up to me easily. "But we almost had them."

"Almost isn't good enough."

"Jesus, Colt." He chuckles, unbothered despite the exasperated word choice. "You're so... serious."

"I don't like to lose."

Rev knows as much. It's why, while Tripp was always content to coddle Marley, I always competed against her— just the same as I did with everyone else. Just because she's a girl doesn't mean I'm going to let her win... at anything.

I'm too busy glaring at Rev as he laughs again to notice Mark until he's upon me, driving me against the lockers, where he pins me with his palms on my chest. "I don't like losing either. So how about you explain why you lost the game for us?"

Now, I get to laugh, too. "I didn't lose the game for us."

His lip curls upward, and I think he's about to punch me in the face. And I welcome the contact, the pain, the excuse to beat his fucking ass and take out some of this frustration on someone. "Your head wasn't in the fucking game, so where was it?"

I don't even think before I speak. I just open my mouth, and words fall out. "Buried in your mom's pussy."

"You think you're so fucking cute, huh?" Mark growls.

I roll my eyes. It’s his senior year, and he thinks he stands a chance to be scouted.

He’s not nearly as good as he thinks he is, and I can guarantee no one is in the audience tonight to scout him out for college.

Besides the fact I have another year of football, I only do this because it feels good to lay it all out on the field…

all the things that would eat me alive if it weren’t for the game.

I’m not going to stick around to hear coach's bullshit, so I push past him as he comes into the locker room.

He reaches out like he means to stop me, but I dodge out of his grip, and the look I fix him with must tell him not to fucking bother with me because he lets his arm drop and turns to the rest of the guys.

Hiking my bag over my shoulder, I set my head down, prepared to ignore anyone and everyone just the same way.

I am not in the fucking mood to deal with any of them.

.. none less than the heinous bitch that is my own mother.

But then someone steps in front of me, deliberately, and I stop just short of running her over.

Okay, my mother isn't the last person I wanted to see, after all. Audrey wins in a competition between the two of them.

I don't even know why I dislike her as much as I do, but something about her mere existence irritates me.

"You did so good tonight." She says, planting a hand on my chest like she thinks it will do something for me. It won't. Whatever the fuck she's selling, I'm not interested. "We should celebrate."