Page 46 of Hyperspeed
Alas, I was a man of integrity—sort of—and it wasn’t going to happen.
I needed a distraction.
I opened SpaceFlix on the TV, deciding on a generic action flick. Explosions, high-speed chases, damsels in distress . . . the perfect way to take my mind off thoughts I shouldn’t be entertaining.
I settled against the headboard, letting my body sink into my pillows while the screen bathed the room in a golden glow. But thirty minutes in, and I couldn’t tell you a single plot point. I didn’t recognise half the actors either, although it had promised a stacked cast.
Instead, all I could think about was pearlescent skin, a long tail, and pointy fucking ears.
That psych evaluation I mentioned? Yeah, it needed scheduling. Like yesterday.
What grated most was that our scores had been identical.
I could’ve taken a one-point loss—for him, not me, obviously. But equal? I couldn’t think of anything worse. If I’d tied with Jax, I’d have laughed it off. We’d have shrugged it off and shared a drink afterwards.
But with Rev, it didn’t feel like a tie; it felt like a loss in disguise. Like he’d still won somehow. And then he’d had to get in one last insult, his voice like a blade wrapped in velvet.
“This doesn’t mean we’re equals.”
No shit, it didn’t.
Because Iwasbetter, wasn’t I?
The season stats proved it. My three championship wins proved it. With every event, Jeremy and Vaeri had been certain I’d win. Even when I hadn’t earned it, they’d looked at me like I was their hero.
The same way Korvi had looked at Rev.
And Rev had smiled at him—warm, genuine, and soft around the edges. The moment was stuck in my head, immortalised like a photograph.
The entire day, Korvi had lit up whenever Rev so much as glanced his way. Literally too, because his skin had pulsed with yellow light. He’d clung to every word the rookie said, as though sharing a quiet understanding the rest of us weren’t privy to.
And it was infuriating. Unsettling.
And worst of all? It was hot.
I was used to Rev being unreadable, covered with a mask of indifference that gave nothing away. Locked up tighter than a high-security prison. On the surface, it seemed like nothing got under his skin.
But some things did, as proven by the luminous lines decorating his skin. The way they pulsed and shifted, lit up like a silent language only the Iskari could understand.
I may not have figured out the pattern, but I knew it wasn’t random. It couldn’t be. Not when his skin lit up in shifting shades of red every time I got close—scarlet, crimson, ruby—like a slow burn barely held in check.
With every pulse of colour, something in me came alive. The urge to test his limits, to chase every hue he had to offer, to see just how bright I could make him shine. It was like a challenge, a siren song to my competitive heart.
How far could I push until his surrounding fortress crumbled?
As infuriating as he was, I couldn’t deny that Revvak Arathiel fascinated me. Not because he was Iskari, but because of everything beneath the surface. I wanted to lift the hood and dig into the engine. Strip him down to his atoms, figure out what made him tick. What drove the polished exterior, and who he became when it cracked.
What would those dark eyes look like stripped of restraint? Wide with raw, unfiltered desire? I’d seen a glimpse in Nebula. His body pinned to the wall, plastered against mine. His breath hitching whenever my fingers skimmed the base of his tail. Broken whimpers, soft and helpless, caught between fleeing and surrendering.
When I’d mentioned spanking his ass, he’d been flustered, all scoffs and narrowed eyes before storming away. But I hadn’t missed how the specks in his eyes had swirled like a freshly shaken snow globe, or the delicious pink glow of his skin.
Those plump purple lips had formed the prettiest O, and in a split second of madness, I’d imagined them wrapped around my cock, his tongue out, ready for me to slide in and fuck that smart mouth quiet—
A loud groan ripped from my throat.
Between a fight scene I wasn’t watching and the thought of Rev’s mouth doing wicked things, my hand had wandered down, traitorous and eager, stroking without hesitation.
A ragged “fuck” slipped out as my hips surged upwards, chasing the heat coiled in my clenched hand. My conscience begged me to stop. Thinking was impossible. All the blood had drained to my cock, now flushed and iron-hard in my fist, demanding release.
