Those are the words that sent me into an epic loss of control, and for some reason, that foreign feeling is returning again.
My muscles tighten and I snatch a shot, then down it in one go and suppress a wince against the burn.
Nikolai’s eyes explode in a myriad of violent intensity, and rage radiates from him in waves.
It’s suddenly hard to swallow and I have to force down the need to clear my throat.
Unfamiliar anger ripples through me as he continues glaring.
What the hell did he expect?
Why the fuck is he even expecting anything from me?
Glyn raises a shot, but before she can drink it, Killian takes it for her and says, “You’re drunk. I’ll take your shots.”
“I don’t need you to.”
“Swoon.” Annika fawns over them, a stupid grin plastering all over her face.
She’s seventeen and skipped a school year to attend uni this young, right? I know Nikolai is only nineteen—seriously, he’s a kid—but he wouldn’t have done anything with her when she was/is underage, right?
I mean, the age of consent in the UK is sixteen, but they’re Americans. Isn’t it eighteen over there…?
Besides, he wouldn’t have done that to his best friend, right?
My throat constricts, and this time, I have to discreetly clear it against the influx of disgusting nausea.
Right?
“We need to take this game to the next level.” Nikolai holds out a shot and I stare at him, my heart pounding so hard, I think I’ll have a heart attack.
“Never have I ever fucked or experimented with someone of the same sex.” He steals a peek at me and then drinks his shot.
My heart thunders behind my rib cage and my fingers turn clammy around my glass. Breaths whoosh out of my lungs in fractured intervals.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Does a kiss count?” Ava asks him, and he nods. Eyes on me.
Stop looking at me.
Just stop.
I think I’m going to throw up in front of everyone and humiliate myself in the worst way possible.
“Well, screw it.” Ava takes the shot.
Remi gasps like a drama king. “This bitch is really looking to get herself killed tonight.”
Killian raises a shot and Glyn watches him with a questioning gaze.
“Don’t look like you’ll faint, little rabbit. Do you really believe all those kinks were done with only women? I used to experiment a lot.”
As he drinks, she also picks up a shot and takes it in one go.
What…? My sister did what…?
“Don’t look surprised, Killer. I used to experiment a lot, too.”
I release a breath. Okay, so that was a lie to mess with Killian. She would’ve told me if that were the case. We’re close.
I think.
At least, I hope we are.
“No one else?” Nikolai toys with his empty shot glass, shooting a provocative look in my direction.
I stare at Remi and Ava bickering, then at my feet, and my focus stays there. Looking at the ink swallowing my shoes.
And yet I can feel his eyes on me, intense and unapologetic.
Tick.
You’re going to make a fool out of yourself.
Tick.
It’s game over, Bran. Everyone will see you for the fraud you are.
A low humming sound falls from him and I can’t help stealing a glimpse as he shoves a cigarette between his lips and stands. “Fucking bore. I’m out of here.”
I have to tighten my grip on the glass to stop it from shaking. My gaze tracks his nonchalant movements as he stalks to the exit, lighting his cigarette and releasing a cloud of smoke in the air.
Instead of the ink retreating from around my feet, it swallows them up, then shoots up my shins and strangles my knees until that’s all I can see and feel.
Black ink.
Fucking doom.
My heart simmers down almost lethargically, and I swallow another drink to numb it.
“Phew, that was intense,” Annika says. “Seriously, Kill. Don’t bring him next time. He’s scary.”
“Are you sure it’s not because he could snitch to your brother?”
She laughs awkwardly. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have nothing to hide from Jer.”
“Uh-huh,” Killian replies.
I want to ask what she has to hide. Why is she calling him scary if they were together…?
Stop it.
“So who’s next?” I ask in an attempt to ignore all the chaos.
“Me!” Annika looks at Killian. “Never have I ever got my dick sucked.”
“That’s a low fucking blow,” Remi whines, but he downs a drink.
Killian and I do so as well.
“Wait a minute.” Remi looks at Creigh. “Why aren’t you drinking, Cray Cray? Have you missed the never have I ever for this round?” My cousin shakes his head and Remi throws his hand in the air. “Then drink—Jesus fucking Christ, spawn, please tell me you’ve had your dick sucked at least once?”
When Creigh doesn’t reply, Remi flops on his chair with more theatrics than needed. “I think I need some medical attention. My own spawn has been missing out and I didn’t know. I’m losing years of my life as we speak, I’m telling you.”
“What’s so special about having one’s dick sucked?” Creigh asks.
“Uh, what’s so special about the sun? The moon? The ecosystem? I can go on forever. Jesus, spawn, you’re making me look like a bad mentor.”
“You are, though.” Cecily makes a face at him and they all keep talking, bickering, and laughing.
Having fun.
I zone out.
I laugh when they do, but I have no clue what’s happening around me.
A fog surrounds me and seeps beneath my skin until I can’t breathe.
I drink two more shots, but I’m not entirely numb.
It’s not enough.
Nothing is enough.
I can’t breathe.
Please stop.
I shake my head, trying and failing to shake away the black ink swelling inside.
When Killian decides to take Glyn home, I wait a few minutes, then make up an excuse about feeling a bit under the weather.
More like I’m crushed by my own head.
I stumble out of the pub unsteadily, my head swimming and my vision blurring. I bump into a group of people and apologize—or I think I do—as I walk in a zigzag.
The lights shimmer and turn into tiny bokeh points, moving farther and farther away.
Like my fucking sanity.
I used to pride myself on being completely in control. About everything.
Anyone.
Until this motherfucker came into my life.
And now, I’m not sure how to get that control back.
I need that control or everything will be over.
Every fucking thing.
I stumble into someone and step back on swaying feet. “Sorry…”
“Watch where you’re going, you fucking cunt!” The guy grabs me by the collar of my shirt and shakes me a few times, and I see stars.
He sounds American. Fuck those guys. Why can’t they just stay in America and leave me alone?
“You better apologize or I’ll kill you,” he and his twin threaten.
Oh, wait. It’s triplets.
It’s the alcohol, isn’t it?
His friends try to disengage him from me, but he only tightens his hold until I can’t breathe.
I smile sweetly like the very good person I am and then mutter, “Fuck you.”
He lifts his fist and I close my eyes. Maybe I need this so I’ll either pass out or finally snap the fuck out of it.