Page 11 of Wicked Games

“You think the school gives a shit about what I want?” I demand, letting my own anger take over. “Do you really think you’d be here if they did?”

“Obviously not.” His glare is so intense I can almost feel it like a physical thing. “And here I thought the Hawthorne name meant something,” he continues, his eyes blazing with something so dark my blood thrums in my veins and pounds in my ears. “Guess you’re just as much of a nobody as me, after all.”

More of that weird anticipation gathers low in my belly. “The only reason you’re here is because your whore mother convinced my dad that this was a good idea. I could have you kicked out of here in a heartbeat if my dad wasn’t so pussy whipped.”

“Like father like son.” He sneers.

“What did you say?” My entire body goes taut and buzzes with electric energy.

“Nothing.” He shoots me an innocent smile that’s somehow filled with condescension.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand. “What. Did. You. Say?” I repeat, taking a step closer to him with each growled word.

He squares his shoulders and meets my glare with his own. “Nothing.”

I close the distance between us in six long strides and stop when our toes are touching and our chests are barely an inch apart. “Are you sure about that?”

Felix doesn’t even flinch. And instead of backing away like he should, he leans closer to me. “Am I sure about what?”

A strange scent envelops me—a combination of pool chlorine, citrus, and something spicy, like cinnamon. They shouldn’t work together, but somehow they do.

“You have five seconds to tell me what you meant by that,” I say, trying to ignore the strange heat that’s gathering deep in my stomach.

“Or what?” He tilts his head and leans closer. “What’s my big brother going to do to me?”

My vision goes white for a few beats, and the next thing I know, I have two handfuls of Felix’s sweater and I’m shoving him back, forcing him to stumble along until I slam him into the wall.

Something I can’t read flashes in his eyes for a second as the air is forced out of his lungs in a fastwhoosh.

“Keep testing me, I fucking dare you,” I snarl, pinning him to the wall with my body.

Felix draws in a gasping breath and grabs my wrists. But instead of struggling or trying to pull me off him, he just holds them, his grip loose and his body relaxed.

I expect to see fear and maybe some shock in his expression. Instead, his blue eyes are so bright they almost look backlit, and the sparks of fire in them make him look more alive than I’ve ever seen him. Usually Felix’s eyes are icy and completely uninterested in everything around him.

The change is exhilarating, and I don’t understand why it excites me so much. All I know is I’ve cracked through his defenses, and I’m enjoying the fuck out of watching him fight back.

“Is this your big plan?” he asks, wheezing slightly from how hard I’m holding him against the wall. “Do you really think going all caveman and tossing me around is going to make me do what you want?” He laughs, actually fuckinglaughs.

I may not be as crazy as the twins or as brutal as Xavier, my other cousin on campus, but I’m no saint. This isn’t the first time someone has ended up on the wrong side of my anger this week even, but it’s the first time anyone has ever laughed when I’m like this.

I’m so stunned by his reaction that I freeze, inadvertently loosening my grip enough to let him break free if he wanted.

“Cat got your tongue?” He lets go of my wrists and lets his hands fall to his sides. “Or did you forget that this is the part where you threaten to kill me and try to force the information out of me?” A slow smile stretches his lips. “Come on, big brother. Do your worst. I fucking dare you,” he says, throwing my earlier words back at me.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hiss, finally snapping out of my daze at his taunt.

This is usually the part where people either beg me to let them go or do exactly what I want. Felix’s defiance is a completely new beast, one I’m not sure I entirely dislike.

He laughs again, the sound low and throaty. “A lot.”

“Are you going to tell me what you meant earlier?” I ask, my head spinning a bit from how many twists and turns this conversation has already taken.

He studies me for a moment, seemingly unbothered by the fact that I still have him pinned against the wall and could crush him if I really wanted to. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t mean anything by it and was just talking out of my ass?”

“No.”

A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. “Then maybe you should ask your girlfriend why she goes to the lower library stacks every Wednesday at four o’clock.”

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