Page 20 of King of Violence

“You’re impossible,” Felix mutters, his voice rough and barely above a whisper. His gaze flickers to the city skyline, but itdoesn’t stay there long. He’s drawn back to me like he can’t help himself.

“And you’re stubborn,” I counter, letting my smirk widen. I shift closer, the fabric of his jeans brushing against my skin as I lean in and brace one hand on the back of his chair. “But you’re still sitting here with me between your legs. Why is that?”

Felix exhales sharply, his breath warm and uneven. His hands grip the arms of the chair like they’re the only thing keeping him tethered. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Julian.”

“Am I?” My voice is quiet, the teasing edge softening into something more serious. I tilt my head, my lips just a breath away from his ear. “Because it feels like I’m not the only one playing.”

His jaw tightens, his knuckles white against the chair. I pull back just enough to meet his raging blue eyes, and their intensity hits me like a punch. There’s anger there, sure, but it’s tangled up with something deeper, something darker.

I want to unravel it.

“Felix,” I murmur, his name a challenge and an invitation all at once. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move. The tension between us is so thick it’s suffocating, and then?—

“Fuck it,” he growls, surging forward.

His lips crash against mine, and the force of it knocks the air out of my lungs. It’s not gentle, not careful—it’s raw, desperate, like he’s been holding back for too long and can’t anymore. His hands leave the chair, one tangling in the fabric of my shirt while the other grips the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

Heat floods my body and I press into him, my fingers gripping his thighs as I kiss him back with everything I have. The taste of vodka lingers on his lips, sharp and intoxicating, and I lose myself in it, inhim.

For a moment, nothing else exists—not the party raging inside, not the expectations weighing on both of us, not even the cold bite of the night air. It’s just Felix and me, the push and pull of our bodies, the electric spark igniting between us. His hands aren’t gentle with me. He shoves up my jaw so his tall frame can meet my mouth.

He’s so rough, and it makes my cock hard just thinking about him barely holding onto his restraint.

But then, just as quickly as it started, it’s over. Felix pulls back abruptly, his breathing ragged and his eyes wide with a mix of shock and something I can’t quite place. Guilt, maybe.

“I-I can’t,” he stammers, his voice rough. He stands so quickly that the chair scrapes against the balcony floor. “This was a mistake.”

“Felix—” I reach for him, but he’s already stepping back and shaking his head.

“No,” he says firmly, his expression hardening. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

Before I can say anything else, he turns and strides back inside, disappearing into the crowd.

I stay frozen in place, his taste still lingering on my lips, my heart pounding. The city stretches out before me, glittering and endless, but it feels empty.

FELIX

Is it possible to get a raging hangover from just one shot? My head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton and bricks at the same time, the dull ache behind my eyes pulsing in time with my heartbeat. I push my bedroom door open, heading for the bathroom in search of aspirin.

The hallway is silent, the kind of quiet that feels too intentional, like the whole house is holding its breath. I try to ignore the way my chest tightens with every step, the creeping suspicion that today is going to demand far more from me than I’m ready to give growing stronger with each passing second.

I barely have time to open the medicine cabinet before Ben’s voice cuts through the stillness like nails on a chalkboard.

“Well, look who decided to rejoin the living. The party animal returns!”

I glance over my shoulder to find him leaning against his bedroom doorframe, arms crossed and an infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face. He looks far too awake for this early in the morning, his hair perfectly messy in the way only he can pull off.

“Not now, Ben,” I mumble, rummaging through the cabinet for painkillers.

“Oh no,” he says, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into the bathroom. “Now is exactly the time.” His tone is light, but there’s a sharpness beneath it. “You’ve been acting weird all week. And today? Rumors are flying, man.”

My hand freezes mid-reach, hovering over a half-empty bottle of ibuprofen. His words hit me harder than they should. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, avoiding his gaze.

“What rumors?” I ask carefully, keeping my voice as neutral as I can manage.

Ben leans against the counter, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies me. “That you were at Julian Greco’s party last night. And not just at the party, but that you were with him. Like,with him.” He laughs slightly, trying to ease the tension.

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