Chapter 8: Say That Again
1019 Words
Knox's pov:
Becca was a left over of the main course I wanted. And I don't go back to left overs.
Matteo caught me staring. He smirked, "So what do you think of this one, huh? She's the head cheerleader aand captain of the volleyball team."
His smile didn't reach his eyes though. There was tension in the set of his shoulders, like a spring waiting to snap at any moment. Matteo liked Becca. Liked her a lot actually. But he had never even summoned the courage to speak to her.
I should probably f**k with her to get a reaction out of him. Maybe then he'd drop the act and stop lying to himself.
"Hi Knox!" Becca chirped, finally coming to stand beside me.
My reply was an uninterested grunt.
I didn't hate her. Wasn't disgusted by her. I just didn't want to f**k with her anymore now that Elena was back in the picture but she didn't know how to take no for an answer.
"The guys are planning on throwing a party later tonight," she continued, entirely ignoring Matteo, much to his sadness.
"Not interested."
"Come onnn," she whined, taking a brave step and holding my arm.
The f**k? I looked down at her in a furious glare.
She immediately got the message and let me go, walking back to her circle of friends that looked to be watching the interaction with their hearts in their mouth.
"Bro," Matteo chidded, "are you looking to die a monk or what? She was definitely making passes at you."
The i***t could pretend all he wants, but he's relieved as f**k that I didn't take her invitation seriously.
I shrugged and dragged my gaze back to Elena.
Her back was to me and her gym uniform must have been altered because it clung to every inch of her slender curves and pert ass. Her silver white hair curled around her slim waist. She was really f*****g beautiful, it was physically painful standing here watching her.
I noticed a light blue butterfly tattoo on her shoulder blades. She returned from the training camps sporting those tattoos and while they annoyed the f**k out of her father, they turned me. Her white gym uniform clung to her back, drenched in sweat, outlining the shape of her bra strap.
A hot scene from last night flashed in my head. Me bending her over, tracing my hand up her back and taking her from behind. Over and over and over again until she was screaming my name and clawing the sheets.
Fuck!
My gym pants were quickly becoming hopelessly tight and I needed to get my s**t together before I get a raging hard on. I would indulge in my imaginations at a later time and even make them a reality later tonight.
"Who? Elena? Smash!"
All my thoughts came to a screeching halt.
It wasn't the annoyingly loud guffaw that made me tense. No, it was the name he uttered. The subject of their gossip.
"She's a hot piece of ass but she's such a stuck up b***h. You'd think being an outcast would make her thirsty for some attention."
A wave of irritation and rage consumed me, fire boiling the blood in my veins. I rolled my neck to relieve some stress. Cracked my knotted joints.
I turned around, skewering Carl Mickelson and his pack of larkies right in the f*****g skull. "What did you just say about my sister?"
Carl was an egotistic mummy's boy, golden child of Alpha Richard Mikelson. His family could f**k me sideways if I so much as put a scratch on his pretty boy face. Except I didn't give two flying f***s about anything when it comes to Elena.
"You think I care about you, Kerrington?" He asked, his lips pulling back in a taunting smirk. There was clear daredevil glint in his dark green eyes, "I called Elena a piece of trash. What are you going to do about it?"
Fire consumed my veins. A wicked grin stretched my lips as I turned around to face him.
"Say that again."
It was more mercy than I'd allow on any other regular day. A chance to take back his words.
However, guys like Carl masqueraded stupidity as courage. "I said that I'll invite that Anderson b***h over to my place and have her choking on my co-"
My left arm was a blur. A punch. It landed square on Carl's mouth. Blood spurted, his head snapped to the side and hit the floor, leaving his eyes staring at the sky as they swelled shut. The air expelled from his lungs with a loud wheeze.
The entire stadium went silent. Everyone was frozen in their spots, jaws agape, eyes bulging, stunned expressions frozen on every face. They were afraid of me. I don't blame them, really, especially when they take into account who my father was and the abilities I possessed that were passed down from him.
I was not scared of upholding any saintly image in their preppy privileged heads either. In fact, I was quite proud of myself.
I took a step forward, my boots crunching against the pavement. He whimpered, blood seeping through his split lip and staining the white of his gym uniform.
I grinned again. "You should care, Mikelson, considering I'm going to break your stupid f*****g legs. And maybe a few ribs," I said softly. Then a feral snarl ripped from my throat. "But I've got other plans. I want you dead. Dead painfully. It'll be fun killing your pathetic little body while you're still breathing."
I straddled him and leaned toward his terrified face. His eyes bulged and watered, lips pressed together into a thin line of pain, jaw clenched tight. I felt no remorse for inflicting this kind of suffering, just a sick satisfaction that I had him right where I wanted him. My fingers curled around his neck, thumbs pressing hard into his windpipe until it threatened to snap.
My cursed wolf was out to play. There was no stopping Erebus when he-
"What the f**k, Knox?!"
- Writer
