Page 22 of Hysteria Rises
“What the fuck are we gonna do?” Cross quietly whispers. “This is nothing short of a disaster. A fucking calamity.” When I dare to peek at him, he has his hands over his face. “Is this why Finneas hasn’t returned?” he mumbles to himself, his voice thick with something unrecognizable.
I don’t think it’s worry or sadness. But who the fuck knows with Cross. He’s a secretive bastard.
The groan that escapes me is soul deep. I wouldn’tbe the one he’d share any concerns with, anyway. Motherfucker hated me on sight from the moment we met. Finally dropping his hands from his face, Cross wets his lips, nodding his head as if he’s already made a decision and is agreeing with himself. “We should go back. Tell them what’s happened. Finneas was due to return well before the fucking storm hit, but maybe something held him up and by the time he got here, he couldn’t get across.” When I say nothing, he flings his hand toward the churning, angry water. “Look at it. Would you try to swim that?”
I stare blankly, feeling like a prisoner. Because I am now. This is an incarceration. There’s no escape. And Cross is gesturing wildly to me, clearly expecting me to comment, but I can’t form words. Not when I can’t catch a breath. Not when my mind is whirring like a cyclone, spewing thoughts every which way, uncaring of the damage it might cause.
Unable to contain my emotions, I throw my head back as a primitive roar bursts from my lips. Dropping to my knees, I plant my hands in the mud-caked grass, hoping it grounds me. I’m getting carried away, drowned in the depths of the river that holds me hostage in this place. My head falls forward, chin to chest. Not giving a shit about the pain I’m about to inflict on myself, my hands fist, and I slam them down on my thighs. “Motherfucking fuck!” Anguish rises within me, the same way the river nearly overflows its bed. It’s going to take me out just like the storm took that fucking bridge.
My chest is so tight I can’t draw a breath. Every gasp for air is painful. Fruitless. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Here I am, stranded on the wrong side of the river as if this is some desolate island I need rescuing from. And even though I sense Cross at my side, I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life.
“Hey, man. I need you to get a grip.” His hand lands squarely in the center of my back. I don’t know why the fuck he’d do that. We aren’t friends. Pure instinct has me rebelling against whatever brand of comfort he thinks I need. I rear up, shouting nonsense at the sky. And when his hand clamps down on my shoulder and squeezes, I lash out, madness streaking through me.
“Don’t fucking touch me, or I’ll break every one of your fucking fingers off!”
“Mal. For fuck’s sake, you demented asshole.” He aims calm curious eyes at me, his head cocked to the side. It only pisses me off even further.
The dark clouds above choose that moment to empty themselves on us, icy rain steadily pummeling downward harder and harder with every passing second. The breath I’ve been trying to suck in finally enters my lungs, but the air feels as if it’s lit on fire. I exhale on a ragged gasp. Using more force than is necessary, I knock Cross’s arm away before lunging and tackling him.
From there, it’s all-out warfare. We wrestle, muscles straining against each other, bodies slick with mud and the rainwater that’s fucking pissing on us. Istrike out, pummeling Cross’s sturdy chest and shoulders. He comes right back, plowing a fist into my face with enough force to do plenty of damage. A stinging sensation in my lip follows, and the metallic taste of blood coats my tongue.Fucker split my lip. I growl, letting the pain fuel me. My next hit connects with his cheekbone, and his head snaps back.
The stare he aims at me is nothing short of lethal. For Cross being so into medical shit and healing, he’s sure looking at me as if he’d like to tear my head off and leave it right here in the sucking mud.
Unfortunately, he has the upper hand, having maneuvered himself directly on top of me. My heart races hard, the noise thunderous in my ears. Gasping and wheezing, I still can’t catch my breath, and it feels as if my heart might explode inside my chest.
He locks eyes with me, and his mouth keeps moving, but it’s only when he repeats himself that I comprehend what he’s saying. “Mal, calm the fuck down. I think you’re having a panic attack or some shit like that.”
Angry hornets buzz inside my head, and I wrench my gaze from his, squeezing my eyes shut while I attempt to deny that he’s right even as my chest heaves with the exertion of drawing a single breath. “No. I’m. Not.” Each word comes out in a strangled burst. Unable to do more than stare at him, more ragged pants tear from my lips as he rears up and grasps my wrists, then forces them to the muddy grass over my head.
His eyes, a riotous kaleidoscope of color, search mine. When I struggle, trying to break free, he readjusts, not letting me move a single centimeter. I grit my teeth, focusing on the ink that swirls over his shoulder and all the way down his arm.
I get a little lost in the design, yet I can’t stop the way my heart is going off like a machine gun in a slow-motion sequence of an action movie. It’s a constantboom, boom, boomover and over again without end.
The rain pelting down on us is ice cold, in sharp contrast to the heat of Cross’s skin on mine. “Mal, fucking breathe,” he bites out, all while a muscle twitches at the back of his jaw.
“Let me go!” I shout as I dig the heels of my boots into the muck and thrust upward with my hips in an attempt at bucking him off me.
It doesn’t work. We’re entirely too evenly matched. And then, this rotten fucker, his brow quirks, and he shoots me a half smile. “Careful, Kai. I’ll think you don’t hate me as much as you’ve said you do.”What the fuck?I blink.Surely he didn’t mean that the way it sounded.Those sorts of ideas would be a big problem around here. But try as I might, it’s really fucking hard to ignore what I think he meant with that taunt. He’s playing with fire, and I don’t know what to do about it. My brow furrows as I stare at him.
His jaw clenches as he stares right back, defiance in his gaze. “Definitely not moving an inch when you’re still two seconds from smashing my face in again, youcrazy fucker.” And this dickhead chooses my moment of weakness, my breakdown, to fuckinglaugh.
My jaw grinds. “Fuck you, asshole.” The words burst through clenched teeth, my breathing ragged.
His lips are too close to mine, and my eyes pin there, making my breaths uneven. Unsteady. It pisses me off. He shifts subtly, sending a fresh rush of anger rolling through my veins. “Goddammit, get the fuck off me!” But the struggle that ensues causes two things to happen: (1) Cross strains, pressing his body against mine from sternum to hips as he fights to hold me down. This battle between us is all I can focus on, and suddenly, I’m very aware of the state of things in my pants. I’m harder than stone, my cock swelling at the feel of his muscular body on top of me, his cock lined up with mine. I can’t fucking control my response, no matter how I try; and (2) my gasps for air intensify. My jaw goes rigid, which does nothing to help the situation. I can’t draw enough oxygen into my lungs. Can’t function. Staring past Cross and up at the sky, I see stars above me, even though it’s daylight. My vision darkens around the edges.Fuck. I’m gonna pass out like a fucking pansy.
I barely catch the grim look he shoots me because I’m done.Sayonara. In a second or two, it’ll be lights-out. His hold on me shifts, strong hands grasping mine, fingers interlocking and squeezing as he pulls back, concern in his gaze as his eyes intently bore into mine. Through my daze, his voice comes to me, strong and sure. “Come on, Kai. Breathe with me.”
I want to rebel against him.Don’t tell me what to do.
“Don’t be stubborn, motherfucker!”
And against all odds, I take a slow, deep breath, trying not to think about the fact that Cross and his hard dick are on top of me. Or that the bridge has been demolished. Or that the taste of blood fills my mouth. I exhale with him, feeling my lungs deflate and refill. Repeat. This goes on for several minutes, all while Cross’s face hovers over mine, and he continues to keep a firm grasp on my hands.
Something about it grounds me. I hate that it does. “Okay, get the fuck off,” I snarl, slow and measured.
He must agree that the worst is over, because he begins to move, though why he’s trusting me not to kick his ass the second he lets me go, I haven’t a clue. But he’s not wrong. The fight has gone out of me. For now. Releasing my hands one at a time, he pushes off the ground to stand, folding his arms around his torso.
It’s only when I notice a shiver run through Cross that I recognize I’m fucking freezing, too. I glance at him, sporting wet mud from head to toe. I press a hand to my bare chest, glad to feel the steady, regular beat of my heart.
