I’ve been to millions of Blake’s games growing up and have witnessed some incredible things, but even I have to admit that this is probably one of the most fast-paced, exciting games I’ve ever been to. It’s a shame that I’ll have to cut early.
Maze grabs hold of my hand and squeezes tight as we watch the droplets of sweat begin to form on Slade’s forehead. It won’t be long now.
Roman cuts in front of Slade and takes the ball from between Slade’s legs making the rest of the Rangers cheer with delight. We’re only ten minutes into the game yet the whole time these two have been at each other’s throat. It’s clear there’s bad blood between them and something tells me it’s more than just a team rivalry thing.
Slade races after him and goes for the ball but not before Roman shoots and watches as it sails effortlessly through the hoop. It’s been like this the whole game. It’s as though no one else exists on the court, only the two of them. It’s ridiculous really and from the way Blake is holding his shoulders in frustration, it’s clear that I’m not the only one who’s noticed it.
Slade gets the ball once again and passes it to Damian as he comes shooting through. Their teamwork is incredible and it’s clear that they’ve been doing this together for a while. They’re some sort of dream team but from the look of it, Damian doesn’t take it half as seriously as Slade does.
The game goes on and I start to doubt myself until we get halfway through the second quarter when droplets of sweat begin to coat all of the boys’ skin, though unlike Slade, the others haven’t had their uniform tampered with.
As sweat begins to run down his arms and legs, blue lines of ink start staining his skin. The first appears down the back of his leg and is quickly joined by another. I point it out to Maze. “Check it out. It’s working.”
She narrows her eyes at Slade as if that could help her see. “Holy shit. Is that blue lines all over his body? How the fuck did you do that?”
I grin wide, not tearing my eyes off him as he continues playing ball, completely oblivious to the way he’s quickly turning blue.
“I pressed calligraphy powder into his jersey and shorts so as he sweats and the powder mixes, it turns to ink.”
“Fuck me,” she booms with laughter. “Do you have a death wish?”
“More like a point to prove.”
The grin doesn’t move from Maze’s face as she watches eagerly and over the next few minutes, the show only gets better.
Slade dunks the ball into the hoop like a pro and I’m not surprised when Damian races up to him and throws his arms around his friend. He claps his back with a proud smile on his face which only results in mine and Maze’s grins widening impossibly further, especially as Damian pulls away with the backs of his arms covered in blue ink.
Slade walks back toward the center of the court and raises his jersey to wipe the sweat from his face. His torso is completely blue and after dropping his jersey back into place, so is his face.
Murmured gasps begin sounding around the stands as Maze and I howl with laughter. The guys on the Rangers begin snickering between themselves as people start pointing Slade out.
He holds his hand out for the ball and in doing so, finally notices the blue tinge on his hand. He follows the ink up his arm and soon enough is looking over his whole body in confusion. Even from way back here, I still hear the murmured “what the fuck?” rumbling from deep within him.
His head snaps up with his eyes zoning in on me. I’ve never seen rage like it and damn it, it’s fucking hot. “Oh fuck, girl. You’re dead,” Maze laughs as Slade takes a step toward the bleachers.
“CRUZ,” his coach bellows.
Slade doesn’t dare take his eyes from me and knowing now’s not the time to hang around, I stand proudly and let him know what a smug Skylah looks like because it’s something he’s going to have to get used to.
“NOW, SLADE.”
I curtsey and bow my head as though I stepped right out of the pages of a Jane Austin novel and watch with delight as Damian grabs hold of Slade and pulls him away.
He glares back over his shoulder and with one last smile, I scram, knowing that Slade Cruz has finally learned a lesson. Nobody fucks with Skylah Daniels and gets away with it.
Checkmate, motherfucker.
As I walk out the door, I feel someone’s heated gaze on my back and quickly realizing that it doesn’t belong to Slade, I take one last risk for the day. I look back over my shoulder to find the heated gaze belonging to Roman Westbrock and it’s clear from the laughter in his eyes that he has just witnessed all that bullshit with Slade, and damn it, he looks pretty fucking impressed.
Not being one to pass up an opportunity, I find one of the posters on the wall, advertising tonight’s game, and I fold up the corner. I write my new number on it, pleased that I took the time to memorize it and when I glance back at Roman, I find a blinding smile that blows me the fuck away.
Chapter 8
The sound of a heavy booted foot is all the warning I get before my arms are gripped tightly and I’m plucked like a doll from between my sheets. My hand tightens on the knife and as I’m thrown up against my bedroom wall in the dead of night, my hand shoots up to my attacker’s neck as the blade flings out and proud, ready to defend at all costs.
My attacker halts with the knife at his neck and it gives me a moment to blink awake and figure out what the hell is going on.
Slade.
Fuck, I should have known he’d come for me. Humiliating him on the court was bound to have repercussions but I didn’t expect him to break into my home and manhandle me.
What’s he going to do?
Anger pulses through me. What kind of bullshit is this? How does a little school humiliation result in breaking and entering? If anything, the appropriate punishment would have been to destroy my locker or slut-shame me for some bullshit that I haven’t even done. But this? This is a thousand steps too far.
Flashbacks of my past come streaming back and I swallow hard as my heart threatens to beat right out of my chest. My blood starts pumping wildly around my body and all I hear is the loud thumping in my ears.
He slowly leans into me and I try to appear as though he doesn’t scare the shit out of me, but I have to admit, he’s got me this time. If we were anywhere but here, anywhere apart from a dark, lonely room, I’d happily fight back but I know all too well what fighting back gets you. One thing is for sure, I don’t know about his blue complexion, but I’m damn certain that he’s freshly showered and man, he smells exactly how I picture the devil to smell; intoxicating, addictive, and downright sinful.
“You fucked up tonight,” he comments as he looms over me, his sharp jaw looking impossibly intimidating as the light from outside my window casts shadows over his face.
I press the knife harder against his neck, knowing I’ll never use it on him. This knife has one purpose in life and this isn’t the guy it was destined for, but right now, Slade is far too close for comfort and if he pushes me hard enough, I might just be tempted. “No. That’s called payback. You fucked up when you threatened my brother’s future.”
Slade presses into the knife as if daring me to cut him and I hold still, not ready to back down. “You think you scare me, Virago? You’re nothing.”
I laugh. Isn’t it ironic how someone who is nothing could warrant a midnight visit out of the guy? “And you think this shit is supposed to scare me?” I lie. “Believe me, I’ve been through more shit than you could even begin to imagine. I was dealing with pricks like you before my fifth birthday.”
Slade’s eyes narrow on mine and it’s clear he thinks I’m lying. “Really?” he questions, sliding his hand over my neck and giving it a little squeeze. “Because the way your pulse is racing is telling me otherwise.”
My finger slips off the edge of the knife and presses against the heated skin of his neck, right where I feel his pulse beating beneath the surface. “It seems I’m not the only one with a racing pulse.” I raise my chin, ignorin
g his hand at my neck as the sexual tension skyrockets between us. “What’s got you all worked up, hmm? Are you just that affected by me?”
“You fucking wish,” he says, deathly low.
We stand in each other’s personal space, my back pressed up against the wall and his body pressed firmly against mine. Neither one of us says a word, only stare into the other’s eyes, daring one another to be the first to break.
The darkness begins to fade from his eyes and something screams at me from within but I’m not quite sure what it’s trying to tell me. Maybe that I should trust him or that he’s not going to hurt me. I don’t know but whatever it is has me easing up on the knife. I drop my hand while sliding the blade away as I go, trying to hold back a cringe at the fading red mark left on his neck.
I can’t say what makes me do it, but I don’t think he’s going to hurt me. Not right now at least. He’s here to prove a point that he can get to me whenever and wherever he wants. This is a warning.
Seeing the fight begin to leave me, he drops his hand from my neck but refuses to move away, always keeping me pinned and alert.
His eyes blaze with need and I wonder if his head is a mess of thoughts just as mine is. I want nothing more than to throw myself at him but at the same time, hating him feels so damn good. And now I’m back to hate sex.
Slade’s hand winds down my arm until his fingers curl around the knife. Without taking his eyes off mine, he pulls the knife free from my hand. “Why do you need this?”
If I could rear back, I would. His question completely throws me off. Why the hell should he care why I keep a knife under my pillow? “That’s none of your goddamn business.”
“Why?” he demands, clearly one who’s not used to having to repeat himself.
“Why don’t you tell me why the hell you broke into my home and took it upon yourself to creep into my bedroom.”
“I had scouts come out to see that game,” he says, taking on that low, terrifying tone again. “You fucking embarrassed me and lost me my shot at playing college ball.” I roll my eyes. A guy like Slade already has a college picked out. The scouts still saw him play and as much as I hate admitting it, the part they did see was him kicking ass. My little prank did nothing to ruin his chances there. “I had to sit out the rest of the game like a fucking loser. Coach suspended me for two weeks. We were fucking lucky that Damian and Blake were able to run the game without me.”
“Lucky?” I scoff, feeling kind of bad about him getting suspended, but that’s something I’ll have to think over later. “Blake could have won the whole game by himself but you were too focused on beating Roman to notice that he was open. He’s the lucky one that you got put off and he finally got a chance to actually show what he’s got. Hopefully, that scout is now interested in him.”
Slade’s voice raises a notch but not loud enough to cause any damage. “I look like a fucking smurf, Skylah.”
I hold back a grin. “Yeah, I noticed that. You must have really pissed someone off to deserve that. Actually, you should introduce me. I’m sure I’d get along with that bitch really well.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he growls, slamming his hand against the drywall beside my head while trying to keep his voice low. “Don’t act like I don’t know it was you. You took a fucking bow.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
“You destroyed my fucking uniform.”
“You’re being a little dramatic, don’t you think? It’s hardly destroyed. Have you ever heard of a washing machine?”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” he snaps, stepping away from me so quickly that my knees nearly crumble beneath me. “You’re making a joke out of this bullshit.”
I walk toward him, stepping right in front and pushing up onto my tippy toes though it doesn’t get me far. “Payback is a real bitch,” I remind him. “You brought this shit down on yourself and unfortunately for you, you’ve had to learn the hard way not to fuck with the wrong person.”
Slade laughs before taking on a serious tone as he looks back down at me. “No, Virago,” he says, crowding me back against the wall again. “You’ve got this all wrong. You think you’ve won something here? You’re not even close. I’m going to come for you every fucking day, anywhere, anytime. You fucked things up for me and now I’m going to do the same. You may think your bad attitude makes you untouchable, but you’re not. You’re mine.”
A thrill runs through me at hearing the words ‘you’re mine’ on his lips. I know he means them in a bad way but they still have the same effect. What he’s telling me is what I already know. I raise my chin once again and my cheek grazes past his. I lower my voice to a breathy whisper. “You want me, don’t you? You can’t stop thinking about me and it’s torturing you. In the shower, in bed, at school. Every minute of every day I’m in your head and it’s driving you insane. I occupy your thoughts and you don’t know whether to hate it or make your move.” I lick my lips and allow the very tip of my tongue to brush over his neck. “I was right. I do scare you.”
Slade shakes his head and steps back from me faster than lightning, making a smirk cut across my face. Fucking bingo. I knew it, though I doubt being the obsessive thought in his head could be a good thing, especially when a lot of those thoughts are centered around revenge.
“This is your last warning,” he tells me. “You fuck with me and I fuck with you.”
I drop down onto my bed and grin up at him as I wave my hand toward the window. “Be careful what you wish for, Cruz. I’m not like those easy bitches who fall at your feet. I told you before, if it’s a war you want, then it’s a war you’ll get and I won’t hold back. I will win this thing. You don’t have even the slightest idea who you’re messing with.”
“No, Virago. You don’t know who the fuck you’re messing with.”
Before I have even a small chance to respond, Slade disappears out my bedroom door and I groan. Is it too hard for him to have used the window and avoid the possibility of running into my family? If Shay or Ben were to see him, they’d for sure think the worst and despite not exactly having the talk about boys in my room yet, I think I know their views on that one and it’s not good.
I give myself a moment to calm my racing heart and find myself touching my neck right where Slade’s massive hand had curled around it. Why was that so hot? The thought of a man’s hand around my neck should terrify me but I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me. He just wanted to prove a point.
I try to put it to the back of my mind. Thinking about it isn’t going to do me any favors. Instead, I fix up the sheets on my bed and slide down between them as I hear the soft click of the front door open and closing. The sound of a beastly truck starting up fills the night and I thank God that my family hasn’t come running.
Slade’s truck fades into a distant hum then soon disappears altogether and my breath finally comes easier.
What the hell was that?
Trying to forget about it, I slip my hand beneath my pillow and go to curl my fingers around the cool metal of my pocketknife, only there’s nothing there.
Remembering Slade had taken it from my hand, I feel around the bed, my floor, my bedside table, I search the whole fucking room before the realization dawns on me. He took it.
Chapter 9
I storm toward the school parking lot on Friday afternoon in an absolute rage. I cannot have my weekend like this. It’s been a shitty day. I’ve been on edge ever since Slade’s little visit last night but I refuse to have the day end and go into the weekend without my pocketknife.
This is my last shot.
I just…I can’t. I can’t go another two nights without it. Last night was more than enough. That knife is my security blanket, it’s the only way I feel safe at night. It’s like how Blake needed to sleep with a blanky when he was a baby and how kids like soft toys to snuggle. Just like that, I need my knife.
I hate how weak this makes me. After the shit I’ve suffered through, I thought I’d b
e stronger than this. I thought getting out of there would have me soaring but I’m still tied down by fear. How did I let this happen?
I get halfway down to the parking lot when I pass Maze and I hook my arm through hers, dragging her along with me. “What the hell?” she screeches, preparing to yank her arm free until she realizes it’s me.
“We’re getting my knife back.”
“Knife? What knife?”
“My knife. Slade stole it from my room last night.”
“What?” Maze demands, yanking hard on my arm and forcing me to stop. “Slade was in your room? What the hell, Skylah. Have you been holding out on me? Tell me he fucks like a porn star.”
I groan and start pulling her along. “Hurry up. We don’t have time for this shit. I need to get it back before he finishes training.”
“So much of this conversation is confusing me,” she grumbles, thankfully picking up her pace. “But you still haven’t answered me.”
A frustrated groan comes tearing out of me. “He didn’t fuck me,” I tell her, wondering why that statement makes me feel as though I missed out on something great. “He came to my place, broke in and then crept into my room like some kind of serial killer.”
“No shit?” she says, sucking in a sharp breath. “Are you serious? That’s so…hot.”
“HOT?” I screech, gawking at her. “It wasn’t hot. It was terrifying. He yanked me out of my bed and slammed me up against the wall so he could yell at me about the whole blue thing yesterday. I thought it was…” I let out a breath and continue on without finishing that thought. “He was lucky that I didn’t slit his throat. I mean, who does that kind of shit?”
Ugly Girl: Aston Creek High (Book 1) Page 7
