WRECKING THE CRUEL HOCKEY GOD

Chapter 9: My Room, His Rules

Zykiel walks past me and I follow without a single word of complaint, which honestly should tell me something about my own self-respect.

He leads me up a wide staircase, taking his time, taking up the whole width of it, because the house belongs to him.

An intoxicating scent of something warm hangs over my nose as I follow him.

Maybe a dark chocolatey scent mixed under manly sweat. And it trails behind him all the way up, making my heart race in ways I did not authorize.

His tattoos peek out from under his gym short sleeves, ink running up toward his shoulder.

His hair's tied back in a bun, loose strands sticking to his neck with sweat.

His pants sit tight against every muscle in his legs, the kind of fit that used to make me imagine those big hands lifting me off the ground and pinning me against a wall somewhere private.

Now I'm fighting the urge to push him down this staircase and watch him lose a tooth on the landing.

Not that my tiny arms could do any damage. But a girl can fantasize.

We reach a long corridor and he walks me to the very end of it. He pulls a key from his pocket and slides it into the door. It clicks open.

He hands me the card. "Your room, Kensley."

His brown eyes stay fixed on mine, steady, while his whole frame still blocks the entrance on purpose.

Is he... Waiting for me to ask him to move?

I don't intend on asking him to move. I'm just gonna... shove myself into the tiny space he's left, our bodies crushing together on the way past, and something in my stomach flips before I even clear the doorway.

The room smells like cleaning spray and rosemary the second I step in.

It's beautiful, a big, comfy bed neatly covered with white sheets and more throw pillows than one person could ever need.

Cream walls decorated with tall framed art of women in soft, naked poses, and a wardrobe stacked three tiers high.

Then I notice a second door, cream-colored, just beside the bathroom door.

I reach for the silver handle to push it open, but Zykiel's deep baritone stops me from moving an inch. "Don't touch that door if you actually care about minding your own business."

I pull my hand back immediately.

"And second." He steps further into the room that's supposed to be mine. "I don't want visitors up here. If you want a room in this part of The Hyde, this space stays private."

I retreat a step, but the air in the room stays tight. Damn, his presence doesn't even let me breathe right.

"Why am I stuck all the way up here alone? Why can't Garrett at least be close by?"

He almost laughs. "You bring your four-eyed friend up to this section, I'm seizing his glasses. And he's gonna find his way downstairs… Blind."

Anger gushes out of my pores, but I bite my tongue to hold it in, including the urge to slap him, shove him, spit in his stupid face for being this cruel about my bestie, but I swallow it all down.

"Garrett is the only person supporting me right now, Zykiel. I just went through a breakup. I need someone close."

His hand lands flat against the wall above my head, his face coming inches close to mine, while his brown eyes pin me to the cream wall.

"The last man who supported you walked off with a bag full of my money." He lowers his voice, his breath fanning my skin.

"If you want your emotional support friend to stay in one piece, you follow every rule I give you. Poverty has a funny way of lowering a man's standards, you know?"

"DO NOT INSULT MY FRIEND!"

He doesn't even flinch. He straightens back up, the anger I threw at him returning back to me like it never landed at all.

"And what exactly are you gonna do about it, Kensley?"

I breathe out, fully aware he's trying to rattle me on purpose, and I step back into the space he just vacated, tilting my head up to keep his eyes on mine.

"You've got a lot of nerve talking about rules when you play the most cowardly, pathetic game I've ever seen a grown man play."

He raises an eyebrow, mouth twitching, as if he's actually entertained. "Your mouth's moving faster than your brain. Might wanna remember whose roof you're standing under."

"Finn told me everything. You paid a man to fake a relationship with me for a year, just to dump me with a stack of your cash, all because of a two-year-old article? That's not revenge. That's pathetic. If you had a problem with me, you should've come and dealt with me head-on instead of hiding behind a puppet."

He doesn't get angry. That's the part that rattles me.

He gives me a smooth, unbothered laugh, and two sharp, devastating dimples appear on his cheeks.

My stupid heart stumbles for one stupid second, while I'm staring at a face that doesn't deserve to be this dangerously, filthily attractive.

He steps closer, dipping his head so his voice lowers to a whisper.

"Deal with you head-on? Why would I do that, Kensley? You didn't give me the courtesy of a face-to-face when you screwed my name into the ground two years ago."

He leans even closer, his mouth near my ear, his breath striking the side of my neck with chills.

"If you wanted my attention that badly, there were easier ways to get it. Instead, you went behind my back, typed up your little article, and handed my head to the whole of Seattle on a stick."

I stagger back a little.

Wanted his attention? He can't possibly mean... there's no way he actually knows.

He watches the instant panic sweep across my face and laughs quietly to himself before straightening all the way up.

"The housewarming party's underground, starts in two hours. Go get ready." He pauses, his eyes dragging over my outfit in a very insulting way.

"And don't show up to my party wearing something stupid, Kensley."

"Do not ask me to wear something fancy to a party I'm being forced to attend! And for the record... Zykiel? My name is actually Mara."

He snorts a laugh like I amuse him. "Okay, noted... KENSLEY." He retorts, daring me to correct him.

"Don't worry, I've got that handled, bitch."

Cleo's voice floats down the hallway before either of us can say anything else.

We both turn toward her as soon as she arrives.

She strolls up and drapes an arm over my shoulder like we're besties for life.

"Heard you didn't pack party clothes, b***h. The Gunner Wolves don't do basic with parties."

Zykiel frowns at her. "What are you doing up here, Cleo?"

"I wasn't following you, baby, relax." She rolls her eyes at him, playful. "I was just heading to your room, which happens to be the next one over in the upper suites."

My head tilts. My room is right next to his? What the actual heck?

Cleo goes up on her toes and kisses his cheek.

"Not sleeping in my own bed tonight. I missed you too much."

Something in his face goes soft. "Go get settled then. Let Kensley have some peace. It's been a long day."

He turns and walks out into the corridor, and I watch him go the entire length of the wall, until he stops in front of the door next to mine.

I can't possibly be staying next door to this demon. God help me!

Once he's gone, Cleo turns back to me, her whole face gentler now, giving me a look that's almost encouraging.

"Hey. Lighten up. You look way too tight."

I feel incredibly awkward. After everything that's happened today, I did not have "kindness from Zykiel's girlfriend" anywhere on my bingo card.

"Uhhhh… thanks?" I manage, stuttering a little over it.

"You're welcome." She holds out two shopping bags. "Picked these up for you. Figured nobody warned you we party like this every week, so I doubt you packed anything.”

I take the shopping bags from her hands.

“Wear whichever one fits. Don't let these guys bully you, babe."

"Thanks," I say again, still stuck somewhere between confused and grateful.

She waves and heads off towards Zykiel's room door, and I stand for a second, wondering why I ever wrote her off as just another pretty accessory in this house. She's actually kind of decent. Weird.

I shake it off and step further into the room, dropping the key card and the bags onto the bed.

Then I enter the bathroom next. Absolutely gorgeous, honestly.

Candles lined up along the tub, which explains the rosemary scent that's been chasing me since I walked in.

I sit on the edge of the massive bed.

BOUNCE!

BOUNCE!

BOUNCE!

I hit my butt against it a few times just to test how soft it is, smiling because it's comfy as hell.

Then I let myself fall back into the soft foam.

At least this bed is the one good thing that's happened to me all week. Even if it came from Zykiel Gunner himself.

Then I remember Hargrove and the seven days he gave me, and I fly out of the bed real quick.

"Right. Keep my head down, keep my mouth shut, get through this first paycheck, and go bury that man in the rent I owe him before he throws my stuff on the curb!"

I get up, grab the shopping bags, and dump everything out on the mattress.

My eyeballs almost fall off with something close to actual horror.

I gasp, already wondering if that girl Cleo was playing some kind of games on me.

"WHAT... in the actual f**k is this?" I scream as I pick them apart.