Sicko(50)

My mouth snaps closed, a fizzle of light sparking inside of my chest. “Okay.” I reach for the door handle, my legs restless to get me out of the car and away from James. Bile rises in my throat as I swallow it back down. “I’ll wait to hear from you.” Slipping out of the car, I shut the door and head for the gates as he pulls the car away, the bright taillights disappearing into the distance.

“You okay, Jade?” Slim asks, his eyebrows curved in worry.

I flash a smile, slipping between the opening gates. “I’m fine.” Music thumps in the distance and I wonder if all they do is party, before remembering it’s the weekend. Of course they’re partying.

“You’re late,” Royce snaps in the darkness. I flinch, turning to face him. He’s walking toward me, a drink in one hand and a cigarette between his fingers in the other. He’s wearing a hoodie beneath his club vest, faded blue denim jeans that are torn at the knees, and his military boots. Warmth fills my heart at the sight of him, which makes no sense. I shouldn’t be filled with anything but hate when it comes to Royce. Realization imprints the truth into my brain. Our souls have recognized each other. It’s also no secret how hot Royce is, has always been. I’d be lying to myself if I had said I’ve never been attracted to him, it’s just… I’ve never wanted to admit it.

“I didn’t realize I was on a time schedule,” I snide, rolling back my shoulders and heading toward him. “I need a drink.”

“Do I need to be worried about your drinking?” he asks, flicking the ash off his cigarette and bringing it to his soft lips. Thud, Thud. Thud. Oh my god, I can’t breathe. His eyes squint from the smoke floating near his pupils, and I lean forward, taking it from between his lips and putting it between mine.

“Fuck You” by Dr. Dre is playing loudly from the house, with people yelling between their sips of alcohol and tokes of weed. The majority of them are near the octagon. “No, you don’t have to be worried about a thing.” I walk past him to start my search for Bonnie or Silver to get me a drink, when his fingers catch mine and he jerks me backward.

I fall into his chest. Thud. Thud. His familiar scent like walking through the front door of my home. He swipes my hair from my face before his fingers flex around the back of my neck and he forces my face up to his. Nose to nose. My eyes plunge to his lips, my breathing stops. I squeeze the cigarette between my fingers to help with my self-control.

“What do you think you’re doing walking up in here dressed like sex?”

Is that Niykee Heaton “OT” playing in the background? I almost laugh because I can imagine Silver changing the music to something sexual like Niykee Heaton. Makes me love her.

I glare at him, trying to anchor myself to the ground so I don’t find myself lost in the maze that is the depth of his blue eyes. His lashes are as thick as sin, his eyes almost too pretty to be male. Royce is pure masculinity; he doesn’t like being beautiful looking. “Because I can?”

His eyebrows raise a little, his top lip curling. I’m feeling reckless. This back and forth between him and I is becoming an addiction that my corpse-like soul needs. I’m addicted to the feeling of him being mad at me, pissed, close to me. I’m addicted to Royce Kane, and if you try to lock me in a rehab clinic, I’ll only find my way back to him. You can’t separate fate, no matter how hard you fuck it.

I run the tip of my nose over his, my eyes closing. “Don’t like that, do you?”

His fingers clench around the back of my neck, pulling me in closer. His other hand falls down my lower back, landing on my ass cheek. Oh fuck. He grinds himself into my stomach and my body flushes searing heat. “I’m about to fuck you on this floor if you don’t watch that mouth, Duchess, don’t try to act like you don’t know I’ve wanted into that pussy since we were kids.”

When my eyes reopen—partially in shock at what he just said—he’s smirking at me, his lips so close to mine.

“You were too late,” I whisper roughly, unable to hide the sorrow in my voice. I glide my lips over his delicately. His body stills, his fingers tensing on my ass as his others behind my neck follow.

I push at his chest before I do something like kiss him, speed walking toward Silver, Bonnie, and a few other girls who are sitting at a picnic table near a fire pit in the front of the house. Some men are scattered around the octagon as Gypsy, I think it is, is punching face with some other guy I haven’t seen, while others are sitting around, piss drunk and singing along to Silver’s choice of music.

“Well damn, girl,” Silver says, an eyebrow arched at me. It’s not until I sit beside her that I notice Nellie is on the other side.

I dismiss Nellie with a flick of my long hair. “I don’t like you.”

Bonnie starts laughing, as do the other women beside her.

Nellie glares at me. “I’m just doing what I was asked to do. Stop being a bitch.”

I drop down onto one of the chairs, running my hands over my face. “I really need a drink.”

Bonnie starts pouring slushy from a plastic jug and into a red cup. “Well, welcome to Karli’s watermelon margaritas! She can’t measure, so be careful, they’re potent.” I take the plastic cup from Bonnie, studying the women beside her.

“Hi, I’m Jade.”

“I know who you are, baby girl.” She smirks, flicking the ash off her smoke. “I think everyone here knows who you are now, and it has nothing to do with the sexy little getup you’re dressed in and everything to do with the notoriously unattainable and stuck up prick Sicko, hovering over you like a starved wolf. I’m Karli.”