Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(2)

Victor scowls at him, but the expression doesn’t last long. Hard to be upset when you’ve just spent the morning having multiple orgasms.

“Did you hear what I just said: honeymoon.” Victor snatches one of the discarded hotel robes we put on last night and slips it over his sweat-soaked muscles. I swallow hard and shift in bed, forcing myself to sit up as he lights a cigarette and stares at me with crow-black eyes. The smirk that takes over his face is made all the more vicious by the fact that he’s just left the damn robe open, dick hanging out like it’s nothing. He doesn’t care if Hael sees him; he’s confident in what he has.

“Yeah, yeah, honeymoon,” Hael says dismissively, waving his hand around as he stands up and turns back around to saunter inside, taking the measure of the room with his honey-brown eyes. “See, the thing is: we’ve given you, like”—Hael checks his phone real quick—“three days to honeymoon.” He oozes this last word out and bats his eyelashes all pretty while Vic scowls in response. “Time’s up.”

“Time is up when I say it’s up,” Vic responds evenly, still casually smoking his cigarette, still with his dick hanging out of his robe. Hael doesn’t seem to care. What he does seem to care about is me.

His eyes rake my body, and even though I’m covered with the crisp white hotel sheets, I feel naked. I suck in a sharp breath and meet his heated gaze dead-on.

“I mean, Hael has a point,” I say, glancing back at Vic. He's watching the two of us with a perplexed sort of expression on his face, like he's sizing up a problem that needs to be dealt with. That scares me. Victor Channing is a man who doesn't like to share. And now, I'm his goddamn wife.

His wife.

I am Victor Channing's wife.

Or should I say, Victor Blackbird. I choke back a laugh and Hael smiles.

“Get the fuck out of my room,” Victor says, turning away to pour himself a glass of Scotch. Callum pinched the bottle from the bar downstairs and gave it to us as a gift the first night we were here. “We'll meet you guys downstairs in an hour.”

“An hour, huh?” Hael quips, giving me another assessing once-over. His gaze burns like fire as he sweeps it across me, and I know it's only a matter of time before he has to prove his point: stand up to Vic or fuck off. Because I can't fight this particular battle for him, or for Aaron, or … well, I don't know what Callum or Oscar are thinking. Oscar, especially. “Well, then, enjoy your tenth orgasm of the day, and we'll see you in a bit.”

He salutes Vic on his way out, pulling the heavy door closed behind him.

“Smart-ass,” Victor murmurs, tossing back the rest of his Scotch and then pouring a glass for me. He hands it over, and I take it, our fingers brushing together in just such a way that I get butterflies.

Butterflies.

Over Victor motherfucking Channing.

They might be black butterflies, with wicked poison-tipped wings, but they still flutter, and I still flush, and the moment is just too intimate for me to deal with. I decide to switch back to witty repartee. Fighting with words, that I can handle.

Emotions are too fragile. They shatter like glass. They cut. They make you bleed.

I'd rather others bled instead.

A chill shoots through me as I think about Neil. What would it be like to be buried alive? I can hardly think of a worse punishment. No, no, that's not true. Having my body stolen from me, my rights, my freedom … What he did to Penelope was worse.

Hands-down.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Vic asks, lighting up yet another cigarette. And see, that worries me. Victor is nearly impossible to read, but he has a few giveaways: he rubs his chin when he's deep in thought … and he chain-smokes when he's nervous.

“We can't hide out in Newport forever,” I say, glancing over at the sliding doors that lead to the balcony. The ocean sparkles at the edge of the world, taunting me. Think of all you gave up by joining Havoc. Aaron was right: there will never be a 'normal' for you again. I sip my Scotch, and it burns on its way down. It's a good reminder that even when something tastes and feels good, it can also hurt.

Life never gives without taking something in return.

“We are not hiding out,” Victor tells me with all due seriousness. He sits down on the edge of the mattress, and it dips with his weight, drawing me toward him. I look back to find him studying me like I'm something new and shiny, something he desperately wants but is afraid to lose. “We're on our honeymoon.” He takes a drag on his cigarette and then shrugs his massive shoulders. “But also, we're here on business.”

“Yeah?” I ask, feeling my stomach tighten with nerves. Now that I've seen what Havoc does in the dark, I'm simultaneously intrigued and nervous as fuck. “I should've known. You boys like to double down, don't you?” He shrugs again, but his vagary bullshit isn't enough, not today, not after the month we just had. “Won't it look bad for your guys' cases, to take off after being arrested? I mean, the VGTF is a segment of the FBI, isn't it?”

Victor laughs, this deep, throaty, male laugh that just oozes confidence. I can practically feel it coating my skin, poisoning my blood with lust. He's everything I never wanted in a man, but everything I need. He balances out my dark side in the best possible way.

“Fuck the VGTF,” he says, examining the long train of ash at the end of his cigarette. “They don't have shit on us.” He lifts his head to look at me, his purple-dark hair falling across his forehead and making my heart spasm in my chest. He has no goddamn right to be so pretty, so smug, so rude, so good in bed. Ugh, fuck Victor Channing and the horse he rode in on. “They only came after us because Brittany started running her mouth.” He stabs his smoke out in the ashtray on the nightstand. To be honest, I didn't think Oregon had smoking rooms in hotels anymore. Color me surprised and elated.