Page 22 of Honorable Convictions
“The ice king on his throne, right?”
“You created it. You built a reputation for being frozen and have pushed everyone away since the day I met you. It’s only grown worse in the last century, so don’t stand there and blame me for your loneliness. I’ve been waiting for you this whole damn time.”
Since Pierson had no idea how he’d pushed people away who were disinterested in being around him, especially after Mitchell showed up at headquarters and everyone picked his side in the war they’d waged for so long, he had to gather his wits. Straightening his shoulders, Pierson lifted his chin. “I don’t know how you can expect me to believe that. Your friends have made it clear that they want nothing to do with me. It’s one of the many reasons I wanted out of Vegas. That’s why I am here, Brooks. I need solutions to my issues, not more of the same absurdity that has been shoved in my face since the day we met.”
“Don’t try to heap all the blame on my head. You’re the one who couldn’t handle the fact that Trista sucked my dick. It was over before it ever began, but you refused to move past it. I didn’t know my mate was right down the damn hall. Do you honestly think if I’d known, I would’ve let her? That’s a bunch of bullshit. No way would I have done that to you, and you’re fooling yourself if you don’t think I feel guilty about that decision. I’ve got news for you; the equipment wasn’t even in good working order until you opened that door. The reason she was sucking me off was because she had some crazy theory that it’d help kickstart my missing sexuality. To this day, she’s convinced she did me a damn favor. We both know I came because you walked in.”
Pierson closed his eyes. That hated image played in his mind as crisp and clear as if it had been mere minutes since it happened. Until then, he was unsure if Mitchell had climaxed, and the truth did nothing to weaken his misery.
“Blondie,” Mitchell said and reached forward to grab his arm, but Pierson retreated until he was against the wall.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Everyone talks about that memory of yours. Only, I know about the pitfalls. You can’t get rid of our first meeting. Not only was it too important to allow your flawless mind to let it go, it was traumatic as well. I’m sorry. I don’t know if I told you that before, but I’m sorry. I already told you I’d take it back, but it’s stupid to throw away our matebond. We’ve been locked in this endless war, cutting away at each other, and it started because you wouldn’t talk about it. You wanted nothing to do with me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ll say it a thousand times if I have to, if that’s what it takes to get through your thick skull.”
Since the tragic loop of their first meeting was bombarding him with things best forgotten, it took several tense minutes for Mitchell’s words to settle in. When they did, his temper flared. “Are you suggesting that we’ve spent a century apart because I was stuck on what happened between you and Trista?”
“Don’t say it like that. There wasn’t ‘a thing’ between Trista and me. They all fooled around, Blondie. If you’d ever hung out with us, you’d have known that. None of them were shy, and I’ve met plenty of fallen knights as brazen as them. But yeah, it started then, and it’s escalated because you’ve held on to that like a torch you take into battle. How can I fix that? I can’t, and I’m not going to stand there and let you cut into me without standing up for myself.”
“You’re really fucking unbelievable; do you know that?”
“Same goes.”
“Do you see? This is what I’m talking about. We can’t agree on anything unless it’s an insult.”
“And who tossed out the first stone, Blondie?”
“You did. You accused me of being responsible for what happened to us.”
“I told you I was willing to take responsibility for my actions, but I can’t force you to forgive me.”
“Brooks, I came to your dorm while we were still in training to clear the air about what happened between you and Trista.”
“The hell you did. I think I would’ve remembered that.”
“Honestly, it kind of pisses me off that you don’t remember since you were very succinct in telling me to go the fuck away.”
Mitchell’s brow furrowed, and he cocked his head to the side as he studied Pierson. His focus was intense enough that if Pierson was a lesser man, he might’ve squirmed. “I never once told you to go away. I was the one trying to get through to you while we were in training.”
“I knocked on your door to talk to you. Clayland told me you were alone, and you didn’t give me the opportunity. Your friends were headed for Darcie and Trista’s room, so you knew damn well it was me.”
“Did you say anything? Did you let me know it was you? Because after you started posting those insane scores, I knew I had to bust my ass to move mine up. It didn’t matter to my friends; they’d beat on the door and demand I hang out. I would’ve assumed it was one of them without checking. If you’d told me it was you, I certainly would’ve answered the door.”
Pierson wasn’t sure what to do with that information. Although he’d always taken it personally that Mitchell hadn’t opened the door, nothing about his body language suggested he wasn’t telling the truth. Compared to sentinels, fallen knights had a limited ability to detect falsehoods, but it didn’t work if the other person happened to be his mate.
“It was a second strike against me, wasn’t it?”
“Of course.”
“Did you leave Vegas because of me?”
“I already told you that it was because I needed a fresh start.”
“Because of me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
Snatching up his jacket, Mitchell crossed the distance and stood inches from Pierson. There was banked fury in his color-changing eyes, and Pierson was disarmed by the calming aura of lavender and vanilla that filled his senses, thanks to their matebond.
