Page 20 of Quiet Rage (Wicked Falls Elite #5)

Kellen

I can’t believe there was ever a time when I watched the poor, addicted bastards at The Archer’s Den and wondered why they couldn’t get their shit together.

Why they couldn’t just walk away? Why they couldn’t turn shit around?

They always look so miserable and ashamed, ducking in through the side door, hating themselves for needing a fix.

I get it now, glaring at my reflection in the mirror running along the length of the wall in our home gym.

My face is dark red, glistening with sweat that rolls down my chest and soaks into my shirt.

When I bend to set down the free weights after my last set of reps, the sweat drips from my nose and chin onto the floor.

My arms are burning, my shoulders are screaming, and I still can’t get her out of my head.

What’s it going to take? It’s been two days since I was inside her, two days since she came on my cock after I took her virginity. The memory is so fresh, I can still feel it in my body. It’s like I just left her. It’s that vivid.

But what’s even more vivid is my hunger. It’s not enough. Every hit leaves me wanting another one—and more of it this time. It wasn’t enough when she jerked me off, just like it wasn’t enough to come in her mouth. I need more now that I’ve upped the ante again.

This is how people overdose. I remember learning about it in school when I was younger.

You build up a tolerance, so you have to take more and more to get the same effect.

That’s what’s happening now, and it’s tearing me the fuck apart.

Even a brutal workout that has me panting and grunting and sweating through my clothes isn’t enough to rid myself of the tension.

The sight of my reflection makes me snarl. I honestly told myself I could fuck her out of my system. Actually believed my own bullshit—or I told myself I did. Anything, so long as I had an excuse to be inside her.

And I am no closer than I was before to making her drop out.

That’s what weighs heaviest on me. This would be bad enough even if I didn’t know she was the wrong girl for me, and I was the wrong guy for her.

We don’t make any sense, and I can’t understand why the hell she has taken up so much room in my head.

But then there’s Dad, and his expectations. It’s not just a matter of this being wrong, of having no business being with her, fucking her, spending any time with her at all. I have a job to do. Sleeping with her is not part of that job. I’m not breaking her down by making her come, for fuck’s sake.

And now it’ll be even tougher to do what I know I have to do.

Now that I’ve felt her tight walls squeezing me, heard the way she moans when she feels good, thanks to my cock.

I know what her skin tastes like, what she feels like under my hands.

I have to carry that with me while I go through the motions of what I know Dad expects.

Dragging my feet up the stairs to the first floor, I slow down at the sound of footsteps walking through the kitchen on the way to the back door.

Dad? No—it’s a different tread, not heavy and plodding the way he walks.

Now I’m curious, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time to catch the guy about to walk out onto the patio.

The sight of Dante makes me bristle. I can’t forget how pleased he looked with himself on Saturday night. And I saw the damage on Tamson’s face, too, which doesn’t help me come up with any reasons not to throw him through the glass door.

He jerks his chin at me. “Good morning. Already got in your workout?” he asks.

What a fucking genius. Nothing gets past him.

“Yeah, I like to get it done early.” Then something clicks in my head.

I have to play it off, though, opening the fridge to take out a bottle of water like this is a totally casual conversation.

“Hey, the next time you go to the store for a pickup from Frank, I want to go with you. Maybe if he sees me again, he’ll get a little more serious, you know? ”

“I was just talking to your dad, going over orders for next week. We’re not going to the store this time,” he informs me before a wicked smile starts to spread across his face—like a crocodile, or a shark spotting his next meal. “Next time, we go to the house.”

Fuck me. Obviously, this is how Dad would want to escalate things. I’m not na?ve. I’m not new to the way he handles his shit. This is the first time I’ve actually cared, though. “Oh, yeah?” I ask, fighting against the tightness spreading in my chest while uncapping the bottle.

“Hey, these things happen,” he reasons with a shrug. “I just hope that cute piece of ass is home when we’re there. We might have to plan it, watch her, make sure she’s there. We could take a look at her bedroom after trashing the rest of the place, know what I mean?”

I do, and the water bottle starts to crinkle in my fist. “You want to trash her room, too?” I ask, stalling while I fight to keep myself under control.

“Yeah, right. That’s exactly what I was thinking.

” He rolls his eyes, laughing, while I imagine how easy it would be to grab a knife from the block on the counter and plunge it into his chest. “I was thinking more about pinning her face down on her bed, you know? It wouldn’t take much.

She’s so fucking tiny. I’d love to get a piece of that. ”

It takes everything I have in me not to launch myself over the island between us and cave his fucking face in.

He’s not going to touch her. Even as I force a smile and pretend to go along with him, that’s what goes through my mind. He is not going to put a hand on her. I’ll fucking kill him if he tries.

It’s a relief when he’s gone, since the tension in the room goes with him. I waste no time going upstairs and getting into a cold shower to get my head on straight. I mean, my workout didn’t do it, but maybe this will. Something has to help. I’m fucking drowning here.

How am I supposed to do what needs to be done when I can’t stand the idea of letting anybody touch her but me? That means I’m the one who has to do all the real damage—but it means I’m the one who would have to live with myself afterward, too. How do I do that? Where do I start?

The question haunts me as I’m getting dressed, as I’m driving to school.

What am I supposed to do now? How did I let myself get in this deep with her?

I’ve known better from the beginning. The whole reason I’ve spent any time with her at all is because of the job Dad gave me.

It’s not like I got to know her and then I found out I have to destroy her.

I took every step with my eyes open, and now where did it get me?

Looking forward to Lit class, since it will give me the excuse to see her for the first time since Sunday morning.

Finally, after hours that feel more like days, it’s time.

My body’s humming by the time I walk the last few feet to the classroom.

The air in the room is charged when I walk in, and I know why as soon as my hungry gaze lands on her blond head.

There’s snickering all around, and the guy behind her nudges her chair with one foot.

A growl vibrates in my throat, but instead of warning him to leave her alone because she’s mine to fuck with, I settle for taking the seat next to hers instead of my usual spot in the back corner.

She sits up, goes stiff, stares straight ahead even though class hasn’t started yet.

Look at me. Just look at me, Dragonfly .

I know she wants to—she’s doing everything she can to pretend she doesn’t care.

The guy who took her virginity is now sitting next to her.

She wants to pretend nothing happened. Like I don’t matter.

But I do. I don’t care if she wants to admit it to herself or not.

The blue shirt she’s wearing almost matches her eyes.

I can’t forget the way they stared up at me.

Fearful, confused. I think it’s the power that’s more addictive than anything else, even more than her addictive scent.

I smell her now, sweet and refreshing in a world full of rot, and my teeth are going to crack if I grind them any harder in the fight to keep from leaning over across the aisle and burying my face in her hair.

It was nice, sleeping on her pillow the other night.

Dreaming while I was wrapped in her sweetness.

There hasn’t been much sweetness in my life before now.

I’m here, but I’m not here. The professor talks about the last few chapters we were assigned to read—I didn’t do it, but that’s nothing new.

I usually skim the content anyway, but lately I’ve had too much on my mind.

Even if I’d read every word and memorized all of them, I wouldn’t be able to hear a word he’s saying.

Not when she’s so close to me. I would rather watch the way she fidgets, nervous, knowing I’m the reason why.

Look at me. Just look at me. She won’t, but that doesn’t stop her from blushing. I would swear she hears me.

“Before you go,” the professor calls out in the last few moments before we leave, “remember, you need to have your partners picked out by the end of this week. This project counts for a large percentage of your grade, so choose wisely and be prepared to get to work.”

I could kiss the bastard for giving me this excuse. “Hey, partner,” I murmur, turning my head so I can grin at Tamson. “Looks like I’ll be visiting your house again. Just to work on the project,” I add when the color drains from her face

Facts are facts. I’m the only person in this room who would work with her. Nobody else would touch her with a ten-foot pole after the work Tiana did to destroy her reputation.

And she knows it, too. I can see the wheels turning in her head while she looks around, trying to come up with a reason to turn me down. Her mouth opens for a moment before she stands and gets her things together the way everyone else is doing. “Not at my house. At the library,” she decides.

“What, hoping for a replay of the first time we met there?” It’s too tempting to resist—fucking with her, watching her gulp when she remembers.

“No, but I will also not risk a replay of Sunday,” she whispers. Her blue eyes dart back and forth, looking for anybody who might be eavesdropping—like she’s waiting for me to announce what we did.

She doesn’t know that’s just between us. Nobody will rub it in her face because I won’t give them the chance.

I guess in the grand scheme of things, letting her set the terms isn’t a dealbreaker. If it gives her the feeling like she’s got a little bit of control, fine by me. So long as I have the excuse to be with her. “Library it is,” I agree. “I have class until four. See you after.”

She’s either too tongue-tied to argue, or she knows it would be a waste of time. I’m out of the room before she can say another word, feeling better than I have all day now that I know there’s an excuse to spend more time with her.

And maybe somewhere in there, I’ll come up with a way to destroy her.

Or I’ll end up making it more impossible to go through with than it is already.