Revenge On The Ice

Chapter 5

The night air was sharp against my skin as we arrived at the party. Gavin’s smug face lit up when he saw me—or at least, I imagined it did, because I was a hurricane of controlled chaos by the time we walked in.

Coulten’s hand gripped mine firmly, grounding me even as my pulse raced. The crowd didn’t matter. The whispers didn’t matter. Tonight, we were predators, and Gavin—my betrayer—was prey.

“You’re ready?” Coulten asked, his voice low, vibrating in my chest.

I nodded. My body hummed with anticipation. Fear and desire tangled inside me, making every nerve alive, every heartbeat loud.

“Good,” he said, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Because once we start, there’s no turning back.”

We moved through the crowd, weaving past laughing guests, past glances that lingered too long. And then—there he was. Gavin, leaning against the bar, the picture of arrogance and oblivion.

“Surprise,” I whispered, and Coulten’s smirk sent a thrill through me.

The first act of our revenge was simple, precise, and devastating. A slip of a private document, a whisper in the right ears, a subtle but humiliating revelation about his betrayal that spread like wildfire.

Gavin’s face twisted. Shock, confusion, panic—and then the unmistakable sting of humiliation. The same humiliation I had felt, magnified a hundredfold.

And I watched him crumble.

Coulten’s hand found my waist again, pulling me close. His lips grazed my temple. “Feeling better?” he murmured, and my stomach fluttered despite myself.

“Yes,” I breathed, and the word tasted like fire.

But the heat wasn’t just in the victory. It was in him. In the way he dominated the space around me, in the way he made me ache with every brush of his hand, every whisper of his voice.

“You want me,” he said suddenly, voice low, dangerous.

I froze. My pulse spiked. The words weren’t a question. They were a statement.

“Yes,” I admitted, almost before I realized it. The word slipped out, and the truth burned hotter than any secret revenge.

He smirked, eyes dark, and suddenly, there was no holding back. His lips were on mine, fierce, claiming, and all the fire inside me answered. I melted into him, fingers tangling in his hair, body pressing against his in a rhythm that was raw, urgent, and all-consuming.

The crowd blurred. The world disappeared. There was only heat, only desire, only the intoxicating danger of Coulten Finley.

His hands roamed boldly now, daring, claiming. My back arched against him, and every nerve in my body screamed for more. Every breath was jagged, every gasp a surrender I didn’t regret.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against my lips, teeth grazing my ear. “And no one—not him, not anyone—gets a choice in this.”

I trembled beneath him, consumed by the magnetic pull of him. Every touch was fire. Every whisper was a promise of danger and pleasure intertwined.

And then he lifted me, pressed me against the nearest wall in the dim hallway away from prying eyes, and kissed me again—deep, fierce, unrelenting. I moaned into him, giving in completely, letting desire and rage merge into a storm that neither of us could control.

His hands roamed, exploring, claiming. My fingers clawed at his shirt, wanting the heat of him, wanting the danger, needing to feel alive again.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “I can’t promise mercy.”

“I don’t want mercy,” I gasped, arching into him, letting every forbidden thought and forbidden desire crash through me.

And then, in the haze of heat and chaos, I realized something terrifying: revenge was sweet. But this—the fire between us, the danger, the hunger—was addictive.

I wanted him in ways I shouldn’t. Ways that scared me. Ways that thrilled me.

And Coulten Finley? He seemed to know it, as if reading every hidden thought, every pulse of need. His lips trailed down my neck, over my collarbone, and my knees nearly buckled.

“Tonight,” he whispered, voice like velvet and steel, “you learn that pleasure can be a weapon… and a curse.”

I shivered, knowing he was right. Every stolen touch, every searing kiss, every heated whisper was a reminder that we were playing with fire—and fire burned like hell.

And yet, I didn’t want to stop.

Because in his arms, amidst the danger and revenge, I felt alive in a way I hadn’t in years.

And maybe… just maybe… I wanted to burn completely.