Page 41 of Eden's Deliverance

“Don’t fucking talk about my dad,” I snap, slamming on the brakes. “Stop trying to psychoanalyze me, just drop it. It is what it is, I don’t owe you an explanation.”

How did I know he’d try to pull some bullshit like that? As if I can’t just want to torture the same girl for a year because I feel like it. There’s got to be some underlying reason behind it.

I pull up “lipstick” by jordn day, and crank the volume to snuff out the sound of his annoying, patronizing voice as we drive home. Of course, it just reminds me of her.

Everything does.

She’s a fucking parasite, digging her way into my brain so she can suck out everything I am…until she’s the only thing left.

And now that I think about it, fuck him up the ass for having the balls to mention my father. I haven’t thought about that asshole in almost eight years; not since he walked out on us when Julian and I found proof of him cheating with that red-headed skank. When my mom stopped crying over him, I was free to let it go.

It’s only a 15-minute drive to the other side of campus, but the air inside the car has become stale with our sour moods. When we finally make it home, we separate in silence.

I need to wash off the scent of her perfume before it drives me fucking crazy, and he probably needs to go jerk off to the memory of his bruises covering her chest.

Hell, maybe I do too.

The hot steam of the shower may wash away her essence, but it also flushes out any restraint I had left to push her into the back of my mind.

When I close my eyes, all I can see is her laid out on the ground in front of me, the feel of her combative arms trapped beneath me, and the sight of her frantic pulse beating against the blade of my knife. I can smell the remnants of her perfume, taste her tangy arousal on Julian’s fingers, and hear the sound she made when I kissed him.

I wasn’t expecting her to get so worked up about it, and if I knew how much it would have turned her on, I’d have done it sooner.

We aren’t hoity-toity dude-bros like everyone wants to think.

We may keep our sexual exploits private—for the most part—but I’ve never seen a problem with getting down with a guy, especially when a chick’s in on it too. It’s a little party trick we like to do at Eden’s Deliverance when we want to get a girl back with one of us, or something we explore on Rainbow Nights when there’s a whole crowd of people to get nasty with.

God, the way she went stone-still when he pulled the knife on her…

He’s gotten to see her fettered and afraid more than once now, and I might just hate him for it. No matter what he says, that prick strong-handed me into letting him in on this. I know how he plays his games. He buttered me up—the way he’s supposed to be doing with her—and made me think I couldn’t get her without his help.

I didn’t think that could be true until I saw the way her body reacted to him. She was only good for me because I was threatening her life…but him?

Him sucking on her chest turned her on so much, she tried getting off to it. I put that shit to a stop when I noticed her thighs rubbing together, because tonight wasn’t about her getting some kind of reward. It was a punishment.

“Your temper is going to shut her out for good.”

I don’t know how else to be with her, though. He said she’s a brat in the sack, but I can’t handle that like he can. When she gets mouthy, I see red. Not even the red of her hair or her clothing, but genuine red-hot rage that makes me spiral. It sparks visions of someone else’s red hair—hair that’s not attached to her pretty face—and my whole body shakes with an anger I need to expel.

Scarlett just happens to be the recipient.

I don’t owe Julian an explanation for my internal cocktail of lustful hatred. It’s mine to feel, mine to own, and mine to succumb to if I want.

But there was a kiss…a moment when it was just me and her together.

Or it would have been, if he wasn’t finger-fucking her like a maniac, making her cry in a way that wasn’t meant for me. To be honest, that’s why I choked her, not just to shut her up or take control.

She moaned for him, and I lost my cool.

She’s not going to come to the Rainbow Room. Not after he’s made her believe she has the option not to. He may think he knows her, but at the end of the day, she’s just like any girl. She’ll do something—or not do it—simply to spite you. Just to make you squirm before you can do it to her instead.

She’s not going to come to the Rainbow Room.

Not unless I make her.

16

Scarlett

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