“You just froze up, Glyn. Blimey. Get it together. It’s a given in the girls’ honor book that no boy should have that much hold on you by the mere mention of his name. Come on, my pride as your mentor is at stake here.”
“He has no freaking hold on me.”
“Yeah, right. Totally believe you and your rosy cheeks.” She sighs. “But Anni is right. We chatted more about Killian and I even did some research, and the boy is probably trouble. And by probably, I mean definitely. He’s so squeaky clean on the outside that it screams skeletons in the closet.”
I let my gaze linger on Gareth. He appears composed, handsome in a regal kind of way, and like someone with enough charisma to demand attention. But so does his brother. Maybe that whole family is screwed up.
After all, anyone who willingly gets involved with the mafia must be twisted in a way.
Nikolai is about to step into the ring when a shadow appears from behind him and taps his shoulder.
My hands shake, turning hot and sweaty as the scene slowly plays out in front of me.
Killian is only wearing red shorts. His hands are wrapped in white bandages that extend to above his wrists.
Some people are beautiful, and some are hot, but then there’s Killian’s body that’s the personification of masculine perfection.
I figured he was muscular from whenever he thought it was fun to trap me against him, but my imagination couldn’t have prepared me for the real thing.
His chest ripples with every move, his abs slick and carefully built to add to his physical superiority. Tattoos of small black birds fly from his side to his chest. No, not birds, ravens. Some of them have broken wings that disintegrate in a stunning image. The shorts hang low on his hips over a defined V-line that leaves nothing to the imagination.
I don’t want to think where that line leads to, but I can’t help the explicit images that overcrowd my brain.
No.
Get out of my head.
Is this what’s called conditioning? Shouldn’t I feel traumatized instead of…eroticizing it?
The view in front of me isn’t helping, though. Killian’s biceps and forearms bulge with muscles and veins as if his blood can’t be internally contained.
Maybe there’s a machine where his heart is supposed to be, after all.
Even I can’t deny that he scores high on physical perfection. But all monsters look beautiful from afar. It’s up close that the ugliness shows.
It’s up close that the need to run becomes a need to survive.
Still, it’s unfair that he was bestowed with a weapon to use in his predatory gains. If he was a bit ugly or had a micro dick, people would stay away.
No, I’m not going to think about his dick again. I simply am not.
“The Strategist,” Ava says from beside me and I startle.
I…actually forgot she was there during my hyperfocus on the nightmare in the form of a man.
“That’s what Killian is called,” Ava explains. “Because he’s like the mastermind behind their every operation and the initiation of members into their club.”
“What do you know about their club?”
“Aside from their rivalry with the Elites and the Serpents? Not much. Even Anni was super hush-hush about it, which makes me even more curious. I heard it’s like they’re recruiting soldiers for their future arsenal. But here’s the catch, there’s only one way in which you can enter the mafia.” Her voice lowers to a haunting whisper. “By spilling blood.”
A shudder rips through me and I have to swallow a few times as I track Killian’s movements. That bastard isn’t only crazy, but he’s ruthless and remorseless, too. The worst combination to ever exist.
He speaks a few words to Nikolai and the latter’s brow furrows. I don’t miss how Gareth takes a step back and crosses his arms.
His calm demeanor from earlier is long gone and it’s clear that he’s suppressing tension. I know because that’s how Bran and I must look whenever Lan is around.
My lips part when I become hyperaware of the similarities between us. Is he…also scared of his brother?