A Woman Scorned
1266 Words
Nick’s POV
It’s been nearly a week since our archery session, and I can’t stop thinking about her.
I’m with Caine in the royal gaming room—something both Luke and I insisted on having installed around the time we hit puberty—playing shooter games. I’m creaming him, of course. I’m better than Caine at just about everything.
“Hey, Caine?” I ask when I’ve properly annihilated him yet again.
He chucks his controller down in defeat. “Yeah?”
“Do you think anyone would ever try to hurt Ren? You know—a radical, maybe, who hates wolves that much?”
He snorts. “Please. I’d reckon your little non-betrothed is the safest person in Archon. The Loyalist radicals worship her for being related to their hero Ramsay Eaton, and the rest worship her because their beloved King Vance tells them to.”
It’s both a relief and surprisingly saddening to hear. She was right, I realize. Her reason for not being afraid here was entirely justified.
And it’s the reason she sounded so sad when she said it.
She doesn’t want people to worship her for who her father was. But they do.
“I take it back,” Caine announces suddenly. “She’s not the safest person in Archon. I forgot about that psycho girlfriend of yours.”
I’m really starting to tire of hearing Sabrina being called a psycho, and not because I’m defensive of her reputation. “Seriously?”
“You kidding? Remember in the tenth grade when she nearly clawed Regina Robinson’s eyes out for flirting with Andrew Taylor, who wasn’t really even her boyfriend at the time?”
I don’t really remember it. I spent most of high school drinking, partying, and trying not to think about anything of substance—namely, my dad’s death and my mom’s remarriage to one of the weakest men I knew. “I guess. You’re saying she hasn’t changed?”
He shrugs. “Take is as a compliment. The girl’s crazy for you. Then again…”
“What?”
“Well, wouldn’t be a bad idea to set her straight, would it? I mean, we all know you aren’t gonna end up with Sabrina Stetson—everyone but her, anyway. And Ren’s only here for a few more weeks—not to mention, she’s about to turn eighteen and quite possibly fall for someone who isn’t you. For the sake of ensuring your future marriage, maybe it’s time to put the kibosh on the whole he’s mine complex Sabrina has.”
I heave a sigh as I considerthat option.
Ren might not be scared of Sabrina, but I’m not sure I’m not.
- - - - -
Despite my hesitations about how she’s going to take it, I resolve to take Caine’s advice and end things with Sabrina.
It’s funny, I can’t help but think as I drive to her place—even though what Caine suggested is the “right thing to do,” I know that’s not why he suggested it. He wants me to do it because he wants me to marry Ren one day, and he only wants me to marry Ren one day because he knows it’ll help solidify my position as future leader of Archon.
Until lately, I’d have gone with that, too. But lately, I’ve started becoming aware of my own conscience. And I don’t like being with someone who’s threatened Ren.
Sabrina squeals with excitement when she opens the door. I stiffen immediately, parting my lips to warn her that I’ve come bearing bad news, but unfortunately she’s attacking me with her lips before I get the chance.
I cave for a few seconds longer than I should. It’s not kissing Sabrina that feels so good, exactly, but the past week has done weird things to my brain. I’ve always been a lustful person, but going a week without getting any, on top of whatever strange, s****l tension thing I’ve got going on with Ren, made me more s*x-starved than I realized.
“Hey,” I finally manage to mumble between her kisses, trying to push her off me. “We need to talk.”
“No,” she says in her sultriest voice, “we don’t.” And she trails her kisses lower, sinking down to my knees and reaching for my belt.
I groan, both out of pleasure and frustration. What am I supposed to do in this situation, really? I decide to give it one more try. “We can’t do this, Sabrina. Things have changed.”
She ignores me entirely, though, and with lightning-fast speed, she has my pants down and her lips around me.
It only takes a second or two before the feeling of her soft, wet mouth sends me into a complete, downward spiral. You see, however good it feels, I start to imagine how much better someone else’s mouth would feel around me—someone a whole lot more warm-blooded than Sabrina the vampire—and that’s when I just about lose it.
I push her off me, press her hard against the counter, and take her swiftly from behind—pressing myself all the way inside her without a lick of warning.
She lets out a shriek of pleasure, and hearing that sound—the sound of the person I don’t want to be f*****g—sends me into even more of an impassioned rage, and suddenly I’m thrusting harder, and harder still, blindly, and then, finally, releasing.
I almost forget to pull out—almost.
But force of habit saves me.
When it’s over, the look of pure pleasure on her face remains.
But it’s time for me to ruin it.
“Sabrina,” I say, chest heaving. “We’re never going to end up together.”
Her eyes widen, expression morphing from pleasure to horror. “What?” she spits.
“This can’t be a surprise to you. You know they all expect me to marry Ren. Even if it wasn’t her—”
“With Ren?” she shrieks, shoving me backwards so hard, I smash into the cabinets behind me. “What happened to you hating her?”
An excellent question, frankly. “I still hate her,” I lie. (Is it a lie?) “This isn’t about Ren. It’s about—”
“Like hell, it’s not! You’ve fallen for her! You’ve actually fallen for that mangy, boyish, disgusting little—”
“Enough!” I bellow, feeling the heat rise to my face. “This is over. End of discussion.”
She stops short, chest rising and falling with lingering upset, but doesn’t dare argue.
When I leave her, I get the sinking suspicion this isn’t the last I’ll be hearing from her.
- Writer
