Page 66 of The Puck Chase

“It’s okay,” he tells me, in that same fucking voice Josh just used on him, like I am the one who needs comfort, when it’s clear he’s never known a day of fucking comfort in his life. “My trauma made me strong,” he adds, his voice holding steady, as if he truly believes that, and I’m already shaking my head.

"Your trauma didn’t make you strong, Daemon,” I reply, pushing up and straddling his hips so he can’t escape me, myhands gripping his jaw to force him to meet my stare. “It broke you,” I choke out, forcing my voice not to shake, as I think about all the pain he must have gone through. “It took the life of the child you once were, erasing it completely, until you were reborn into someone else, someone different, and even if I think that person is fucking perfect, it doesn’t make it okay.” My eyes dance down his torso once again, taking in all the marks there. “None of this is okay,” I whisper, hating his father so fiercely that I wish I could repay him with every scar a hundred times over. “You learned to survive and that’s good, you’re strong, powerful, but you were destroyed. Yet somehow, you took all your broken pieces and made them fit together, and it wasn’t because of your trauma, it was inspiteof it. So don’t ever forget thatyoudid that, no one else.”

Slamming my lips to his, I steal any response he might have wanted to give, kissing him like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do. He deserves comfort, desire, love, and I know it’s fucking crazy, that a few months ago we hated each other, but still I want to be the one to give it to him. I trail my mouth back down his body, the time for talking now over, as I kiss, lick, and bite every single one of his scars until he is panting beneath me.

When I reach the scar on his groin and my lips press against it, my fingertips brush his hard and leaking cock, and he groans. It’s almost as pain-filled as his screams were earlier, and it kills me just the same, but still I press my own hard cock against him, as I drag my tongue along the mark, kissing and licking every part of it.

“Do you feel how much I want you? You’re so fucking beautiful, Daemon, every mark, every scar, every bit of you is perfect,” I tell him, and still I can tell he doesn’t believe me, even when I pull his aching cock to the back of my throat, and worship him with my mouth. “So hot, so perfect, so beautiful,” I repeatover and over, trying to brand the words into his skin until he is spilling down the back of my throat.

Daemon flips me over onto my back so he can return the favor, until we are both sweating and breathless, and only then do we collapse back into a heap in the middle of the bed. Pulling him into my arms I do what I’m sure no one has ever done, not in years anyway, and I hug him tight. Holding his broken and scared body in mine, until his breathing starts to even out and he utters three little words.

“Thank you, baby.”

Then he drifts off into a sleep that is nothing but peaceful, while I lay wide awake and replay those fucking screams in my head, until his pain becomes my own.

For the last three years, I have attended the mayor’s annual New Year's Eve Gala, which he throws for the whole town. Or I should say, for the elite members of the town. The Flyers are only extended an invite thanks to Josh being a well-valued team member, and his father looking for any excuse to make him look good. I fucking hate going, but I do so for my best friend, supporting him in the way he always supports me.

Exhaustion clings to me after last night, Josh has been shooting me questioning looks all day, and it isn’t because of the nightmare he saved me from. No, he wants to talk about the 6 foot hockey player he found in my bed, but how do I explain it to him, when I don’t fully understand it myself?

When I woke up this morning, I was still in Archer’s arms. It was a new and unusual feeling, but I can’t say I hated it. WhatI did hate however, were the shadows beneath his eyes, that told me he didn’t sleep once I woke him with my nightmare. I knew scarring him with my demons would be inevitable at some point, but I thought we’d at least get a little bit more time of me pretending I’m not completely fucked up, and him realizing he’s too good for me. Yet still, he kissed me before he slipped out, no wavering doubt in his stare, and somehow taking half of my dead black heart with him when he left.

I’ve spent the day distracting myself with cooking, and using Hallie as a buffer from Josh, so I don’t have to talk about why he found Archer in my bed. I'm not sure why he cares about that, when his fake wife has taken up residence in his own, but who am I to judge? If they’re too stupid to realize they both have feelings for each other, it’s not on me to tell them.

I’ve texted Archer a couple of times since he left this morning, but all of his responses seem off, lacking his usual playfulness, and I can’t help feeling that this is all too much for him. That I’m too much for him. A thought that isn’t tamed when I arrive at the party and find him already half-drunk.

Lounging at one of the long tables reserved especially for the team, I find him looking even more handsome than usual in a black tuxedo, similar to the one I saw him in on Thanksgiving. He is laughing and drinking with Nova and some of the other guys, but his eyes don’t look as carefree as usual, and when he spies us crossing the room towards him, the light in them dims completely.

“Mr. and Mrs. Peters,” Archer greets Josh and Hallie loudly, seeming to go out of his way to ignore me, and I’m not ashamed to admit it stings a little. “Great party, thanks for inviting me,” he adds, his intoxicated and knowing stare finally meeting mine, and I see nothing but pity and pain.

Josh lets his stare flick over him only once, before he replies dryly, “I didn’t.” It’s no secret that he has never liked Archer,which has only intensified since he found out Archer kissed Hallie during truth or dare, but maybe my best friend should ask himself why it bothers him so much?

I take a seat and am forced to watch, as Archer grabs a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and to my surprise, my best friend does the same. Both of them draining them completely and signaling for another, reminding me that this is their world, and I’m merely a guest.

What must it have been like to grow up in such luxury?

It isn’t long before dinner begins, and I watch as the two of them knock back drink after drink, both exchanging glances with me, and one another, until they are completely drunk. All I want to do is drag Archer out of here and demand he stop, I don’t want or need his pity, and getting it only makes me feel worse. The mayor begins a clearly rehearsed speech, about what an amazing year it has been, and talks about how much he loves his wife and children, and Josh looks ready to explode. So I force myself to leave Archer behind and drag my best friend outside, grabbing bottles of champagne and whiskey as we go.

We walk the length of the perimeter three times, each drinking from one of the bottles, before he leads us to the spot where he and Hallie had their wedding ceremony. He surveys the space with a blank mask, but even I can see the fond memories of this place lurking beneath the surface. I’ve spent more time with them than anyone in the last few weeks, and despite hiding behind their denial of long term friendship and fake marriage deals, it’s clear they are both far deeper in this thing than either of them are willing to admit.

As if the memory conjures the reason he’s even married in the first place, his face turns to anger. “I fucking hate him, Daemon,” he spits, kicking at some of the rocks in his wake, as he moves around the space, and I don’t have to ask who he is referring to.

“I know you do,” I tell him truthfully, knowing that despite our vastly different childhoods, we share plenty of demons, thanks to our fathers. “But it will all be over soon, right?” I add, knowing that he has been meeting with someone to help him take his father down, and he nods mindlessly, before turning his focus on me.

“What about you? Have you heard from Jasper?”

His questions shouldn’t surprise me, considering that ever since Jasper showed up at the ice rink he has been on me about my father’s parole hearing, and I wish I had better news for him. Or any news at all for that matter, but I know my father better than anyone, which is why I know that if he wants out, he will get out. A fact I am resigned to living with, and though I’m not sure what will happen when he is inevitably granted parole, I know he will come after the person who put him there.

“Jasper has called me almost every day since I saw him, but I haven’t answered,” I reply truthfully, knowing that I’ve been ignoring his calls daily, yet for some reason, I can’t bring myself to block his number.

I’m sure my brother has a lot of things to say, since the enlightening conversation we shared that day, but anything I might have cared about hearing from him died right alongside Ryan. I know he has his own trauma, his own demons to deal with, but I will never forgive him for leaving us in that house. I understand he needed to escape the suffering and be free, but I will never understand how he allowed that suffering to become ours. And why he never came back for us, not even once. It’s why I let the phone ring instead of answering, because I want him to remember all the times he did the same.

“Too busy with Archer Gray?” Josh asks, cutting into my thoughts, and my gaze snaps to his, finding him already watching me in that way he always does. Yet for once, I’m not sure what answer would satisfy my best friend more.

“Something like that,” I mutter, not really wanting to get into the parameters of my relationship with Archer, not when I haven’t even done it with him yet.

I mean, yes, we have agreed we belong to one another, but what does that even mean? Is he my boyfriend? Am I his?

“So, that’s really happening, you and him?” He demands, finally coming to a stop beside me, and I sigh as I turn fully towards him.

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