Veils of Rivalry Chapter 54

Blaise's POV

My hair tickles my brow as I watch Cole from beneath my lashes. He puts a bottle of antiseptic and a cloth on the bathroom sink before reaching for my cut hand. His touch is gentle as his blue eyes flick up to mine, and my heart thuds harder. While the thought of being in love with him should scare me, it doesn’t anymore. I feel safe around Cole.

Even when we dropped Mia off at her friend’s house, I couldn’t stop looking at him.

“Are you sure your nose is okay?” I ask, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. He’s different tonight, touching me as though he’s worried he might hurt me.

His fingers ghost the deep gash, and his brows furrow. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” I whisper, and his fingers pause.

“Don’t lie to me, Blaise.” A muscle tics in his jaw as his touch resumes its journey across my palm. “Always be honest with me.”

I wince when he applies pressure with his thumb, and I try to pull away, but he tightens his grip and drags me from the edge of the bathtub. Rising to my feet, I let him pull me close.

“I could have killed Jackson tonight,” he admits, holding my gaze and stroking his thumb back and forth across my wrist. “I saw fucking red when I realized he was planning to hurt you.”

“I can handle myself,” I tease, but Cole looks away and grinds his teeth. “Hey,” I say, trying to coax him to look at me. “I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I don’t have to worry about you? Really?” His eyes flash with anger, and he steps away to create space between us. I grab his hand, ignoring the sharp sting in my palm. “I’m okay, Cole.”

Looking down at our interlaced, bloodied fingers, he nods once and swallows. “If I hadn’t arrived… What then?”

“I would have taken them all on, like John Wick.”

Cole’s lips twitch, and fuck me, it feels like I’ve won the lottery. I pull him closer, my chest swelling when he finally meets my gaze.

“No one is allowed to hurt you.”

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to contain my smile. “You sound like me. There’s no room for two psychopaths in this relationship.”

His eyes flick to my mouth. “You’re not a psychopath.”

“You have no idea the lengths I’ll go for you or the things I’ve done…” I reply, and Cole stares at my mouth for all of two seconds before fisting my T-shirt and crushing his mouth to mine. His biting kisses hurt in the best way possible, and I groan into his mouth.

“Jackson is dead if he ever tries to hurt you again,” he warns as I fist the hairs at his nape. A part of me secretly enjoys his threats and how possessive he is. The feeling is mutual. If anyone ever hurts him or tries to steal him from me, I’ll burn them alive. I deepen the kiss, my tongue invading his mouth, and he slips his hands underneath my T-shirt to explore my muscled chest. I break away from his lips to catch my breath, and we gaze at each other as the seconds turn into minutes.

“Thank you for turning up tonight.” I capture his lips and taste him again. It’s official—I’m addicted to Cole’s kisses and trembling touches.

Pulling away, he reaches for the bottle of antiseptic, and I keep my eyes locked on his face while he uncaps the lid and soaks the cloth. I doubt he knows how unbelievably perfect he is or how my heart skips a beat every time he lifts those dark eyes to mine.

“This will hurt,” he warns as he puts the bottle back on the sink. I swallow as he reaches for my hand and turns it over. His thumb skims the gash. At the same time, his brows knit together, and he looks pained.

“I can do it myself,” I offer, but he shakes his head.

“No… It’s my fault.”

I hiss as he presses the cloth to my hand. Fuck me, that stings.

“None of this is your fault.”

“Jackson blames me for getting kicked off the team,” Cole says. “He knows how I feel about you, and he’ll use you to get at me.”

“But that’s bullshit,” I reply. “Jackson got kicked off the team because of my dad.” I hiss again, trying to pull my hand back, but he tightens his grip and gives me a warning look.

“Stay still.”

“I can leave the team,” I offer. “I never wanted to be on the team anyway⁠—”

“Shut up,” Cole growls, a muscle working madly in his jaw while he cleans my wounded palm. “Jackson is off the team because he’s slacking. He has no one to blame but himself.”

“Even so, I’ll quit.”

“Say that one more time, and I’ll punch you.”

I smile, and he looks up from beneath his messy mop of hair. “I would rather fuck you,” I admit. “But if you’d rather fight…”

Cole smiles, too, and my heart flutters—fucking flutters. I look down at my hand and will my stirring dick to go down. Now isn’t the time to touch him.

“Jackson knows about us?”

Cole stiffens before reaching for my other hand. “He knows I’m gay.”

“You’re gay?” I ask, curious about his sexuality. I assumed he was bisexual.

Shrugging, Cole pours more antiseptic on the cloth and proceeds to cut me open with his careful touches. “So what if I am?”

“I like it,” I reply, and he looks at me questioningly.

“I mean… At least I don’t have to worry about killing all the women who flirt with you.”

He snorts, amused, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Now I just have to beat the men off with a stick. No, screw that. Any man who flirts with you will regret ever being born.”

Cole chuckles, and I sober. “I’m sorry I punched you back there.”

“You had no way of knowing it was me.”

“I know,” I reply, “but the thought of ever hurting you…”

“You won’t hurt me,” Cole says as he wraps my hands in bandages.

I wish I could feel as confident as he sounds, but sometimes, I fear myself and the lengths I’ll go to protect him. Sometimes, I worry he’ll get caught in the crossfire. And someday, the people we care about will find out about us. Someday, we’ll tear our families apart.

In the end, I will hurt him. It’s inevitable.

***

Cold air saws through my battered lungs, and twigs break underfoot. I weave through spindly trees, pumping my legs harder, pushing my body to the limit to get away from the masked man. Excitement quickens my breath as I glance behind me. He’s gaining on me, and my body flushes hot. I want him to catch me, but I also want to draw out the chase. This unhinged side of Cole makes me so damn hard. It’s as if someone unchained his dark, starving side and let it lose in the forest.

Branches slap me in the face, but I can barely feel the stinging pain because I’m too high on adrenaline and the rush of the chase. Jumping over a fallen log, I land in a stream of icy water, which quickly soaks through my shoes and socks. I spin around, only to see the masked man step over the log as though he has all the time in the world to hunt me, and I realize, as he rests the baseball bat on his shoulder, that he’s dragging it out on purpose for the same reason as me. He enjoys the chase, too.

Stumbling back, my foot catches on an exposed root, and I fall to the damp ground. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest as I glance around for a stick or a rock to use as a weapon, but there’s nothing within reach. He tilts his head sideways to study me, and pinecones sink into the mossy ground as he stalks me.

Crawling backward like a crab, I spin around and launch myself to my feet. There’s no time to think and no time to strategize. I run like my life depends on it, and the faster I run, the harder my dick gets. Raising my arms to protect my face, I barrel through the branches of two fir trees. The forest is denser here, and the moss is wetter. I’ve lost track of time since my stepbrother caught my scent like a predator in the night, but I’d lie if I said I didn’t enjoy playing the role of the helpless prey.

I make the swift decision to grab a broken branch off the forest floor. It’s heavy in my hands and takes effort to hold upright, but it’ll do just fine. When Cole emerges, slapping the fir branches out of the way with his bat, I swing at him and knock him off his feet, but the victory is short-lived.

“Fuck,” he growls underneath his mask and rises to stand, unfolding to his full height like something out of a horror flick. I swear I almost come in my pants when he snarls at me. “You’ll regret that.”

Dropping the heavy branch, I bolt.

My T-shirt is soaked with sweat, and my thigh muscles burn. I can’t remember the last time I put this much effort into running. I play football, sure, but this is different. Thank fuck, I’m in good shape, or I would have collapsed by now. Behind me, Cole’s boots pound the forest floor, crushing red-capped mushrooms beneath his rubber soles. Pine needles stick to my jeans from my fall earlier, and I’m sure my hands are covered in grime, but the eerie setting is perfect.

Darkness soon settles over the forest, and an owl’s hoot penetrates the sound of my heavy pants.

I emerge into a clearing and pause at the sight of a derelict old building. Shivers race down my spine as I take in the broken windows and the vines crawling across the weathered brick. The door is long gone, and now the entryway gapes like a dark void.

“Fuck,” I breathe, then glance behind me. There’s no sign of Cole. Only silence surrounds me now. Even the owl has stopped hooting.

Turning around to scan the tree line, I inch closer to the house, deciding that the creepy house is less of a threat than my chaser with his bat. But that’s a lie. My dick tells me as much when it jumps at the thought of seeing him enter the clearing.

Something breaks through the branches to my left, making my heart stutter, and I look down in time to see a large rock roll close to my shoes.

Fuck…