Feuds and Reckless Fury by K. Webster

 

Alister

Ginger and Nutmeg yap, running in excited circles around my feet as they wait for me to answer the door. Figuring it’s Canyon coming for dinner, I fling it open, a smile already tugging at my lips.

It is Canyon.

But gone is the guy who’s been getting inside my head, flirting with me, and challenging me at every turn.

We’re back to the crazy asshole.

His handsome face is twisted into a hateful sneer, his blue eyes nearly glowing with rage. Both fists are clenched at his sides, veins popping out of his arms like he’s going to transform into a supervillain at any second. The muscles on his neck are taut and straining. I swear to fuck steam is coming out of his nose.

Someone’s about to get their ass kicked.

I take a step backward, but as though he’s tethered to me, he takes one forward, entering my house. Another step is mirrored by him. He flings the door closed with a loud slam, ignoring the two furballs barking in excitement at our feet. When my ass bumps against the banister to the stairs, I lift my chin, meeting his glare.

“What’s your problem?” I bark out, my own anger catching fire inside me.

His hand seizes my jaw in a punishing grip as he painfully digs his fingers into my flesh. I grab hold of his T-shirt to push him away, but he crowds closer, pinning me to the banister with his massive frame. My heart stutters in my chest in a mixture of healthy fear and seriously unhealthy lust.

“You,” he snarls, his nostrils flaring at the word as though it tastes sour on his tongue. “Your father. Mine.” His fingers tighten, making a soft whimper escape me. “The three of you are homewreckers.”

I struggle against his hold, both of my hands joining the fight to push him away from me. He leans into me, letting his weight press against me so I can feel his strength and power. I’m not going anywhere until he releases me.

“Fuck off, bro,” I hiss. “You’re not welcome here.”

“You don’t get to tell me to leave—”

“I said get the hell out!” I land a punch in his side, making him gasp for breath. His grip loosens enough for me to slip out of his hold, ducking around him and darting up the stairs. Thunderous footsteps sound behind me. I rush down the hallway and right into my studio. The door is nearly closed behind me when his muscular arm slides in, and he uses his strength to push into the room with me. Stumbling back a few steps, I curse the fact I’ve just trapped myself in closed quarters with a charging bull. He flings the door closed, the loud slamming echoing in my ears.

I glance over at my sculpture I’ve been working on late at night when I can’t sleep. It’s taken me a couple of days to get the shape of it right. Based on how pissed Canyon is, I see how this is going to go down.

As though he can read my mind, he laughs, cold and cruel. “I’m not going to break your shit. I’d rather break you.”

I put space between us, standing on the other side of a table. “What the hell happened, man? We were cool, and now we…aren’t?”

“Nothing happened.” His eyes dart away, and his shoulders go tense.

Liar.

“And we were never cool. I tolerated you, and I’m over it.”

“That’s bullshit,” I growl. “Tell me what the fuck happened.”

“You did!” he bellows, a flash of pain glimmering in his eyes. “You and your dad ruined everything!”

In a ninja-type move I’m sure he learned on his nerdy anime shit, he hops over the table, charging at me once more. I trip over my own feet, falling hard on my ass, taking him down with me. My head hits the floor hard enough for stars to glitter around me.

And then darkness.

I hear it squeaking. Oh, God, I feel it. Crawling on my blanket.

“Momma,” I whimper. “Momma.”

She doesn’t come to my rescue, so I wish for Colin to save me instead. He says he doesn’t do drugs anymore like Momma still does with her friends. The drugs used to make Colin mean, but he’s not as scary anymore. Not like the mice. They’re terrifying. More scary and awful than when Momma shakes me so hard my teeth rattle. Since Colin isn’t mean and doesn’t hit her anymore, she lets her boyfriends do it to her instead. And whenever I try to save her from them, she lets them smack me around, telling me I got what I deserved. Sometimes they lock me in the closet.

Another squeak has me crying out in fear, my attention back on the tugging of the blanket as the mouse crawls on me.

Hitting the blanket with my fist, I send the monster thudding to the floor. The squeak is louder—angrier—and the scratch of its feet can be heard as it scampers across the floor.

A full-bodied shudder trembles through me.

I hate them.

I hate the mice.

I hate the—

“Wonderland!”

I blink open my eyes open, shivering at the lingering dark memories. The whining I’d heard wasn’t me as a boy but the me now. Scared and worried.

Canyon’s furious glare is gone. His brows are dipped in concern, which has my chest squeezing. He’s sprawled on top of me from our fall, but instead of beating my ass, his thumb is gently stroking my cheek.

“You hit your head,” he murmurs. “And then…you…”

I reach up, overcome with the urge to touch him. To connect to this reality and shed the past. My fingers run through his soft hair, tracing the curve of his skull until I reach his nape. The hair there is trimmed short and prickly compared to the longer tresses on top. He groans when my thumb runs along the shell of his ear.

“I don’t understand,” I whisper. “I don’t understand how we were almost friends and then—”

My words are silenced when he dips down, his soft lips lightly brushing over mine. I freeze, unsure where he’s taking this but eager to find out. Rather than kiss me, his breath tickles my lips.

“I’ve never kissed a guy before,” he admits, the sound barely audible. “Now it’s all I can think about.”

I part my lips, fully aware of everywhere his larger, more muscular body presses into me. He’s aroused, like myself, his erection pressing shamelessly against me.

“Don’t think.” I slide my palm to the back of his head, drawing him to me. “Do.”

His lips kiss mine softly, and then a growl rumbles through him. He presses his tongue against mine, his need to dominate me a potent flavor I can’t get enough of. I moan as he kisses me deeply—it’s filled with longing and curiosity and pure lust. Teeth nip at my bottom lip, sending fire licking its way down my spine on a path to my balls. I’m aching for friction and release and whatever else his body might offer me.

Fuck.

This is my future stepbrother.

Dad wouldn’t kill me. He’d just disown me.

Where would I be then?

In some mice-infested trailer like when I was a kid?

“You’re supposed to be a shitty kisser,” I complain, turning my head as I speak, trying to find the strength to stop whatever is happening.

“Sorry to disappoint.” His hot breath tickles my jaw. He presses kisses along the way, the path to my neck now his new agenda.

“Canyon,” I cry out as his tongue teases my flesh below my ear. “We have to stop this.”

“We do?”

I run my fingers through his hair, lifting my hips, aching to feel his cock grinding against me. He sucks on my neck, gifting me with more hickeys I’ll have to answer for later. A mewl escapes me the second I feel his fingers on my stomach where my shirt has ridden up.

All resolve to push him away and stop the kissing and touching fades. Fiery need chases away logic and reasoning, leaving me a burning pile of want.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs near my ear. “So fucking good.”

His large palm slides up beneath my shirt, fingertips drifting over one of my nipples before reaching my collarbone. He touches the silver chain around my neck, tugging at it as if to test its strength.

“Don’t break it.” I grip his hair, pulling his head back so I can see his eyes. “Please.”

He nods, his dark brows knitting together. “I won’t.”

His lips descend back on mine as he toys with the necklace. I quickly lose myself to the teasing of his teeth and tongue.

I’ve been kissed lots of times, but never like this.

Like I matter.

Like I’m more than a means to get off.

Like maybe I have answers to the mysteries of the universe.

It’s addictive and mesmerizing to be worshipped by someone’s mouth. As though your taste is a drug for them, and each whimper is sustenance they greedily need to devour. He ravishes my mouth like he may never get a chance to kiss anyone on this earth ever again. The intensity with which he owns my mouth with his leaves me breathless and lightheaded.

The voices that can be heard nearby are like knives stabbing into the balloon of bliss that dragged Canyon and me into our own little cloud. He rolls off my body and rises to his feet, straightening his clothes. I start to stand up, but a wave of dizziness has me staggering. Canyon’s strong grip digs into my shoulders as he steadies me on my feet. Just as I plant my ass on a stool, the door creaks open, revealing Dad.

“Hey, guys. We’ll probably get the grill started in an hour or so. Any special requests for sides? I can make my famous red potato salad.” Dad grins at us, but then his smile falters. “You okay? You look pale.”

I wave him off, nodding. “Yeah, fine.”

“He fell and bumped his head,” Canyon tattles. “Blacked out for a second there.”

Dad’s features morph into a worried expression. I’m reminded of those first days I came to live with him. When he’d study me all the time with the same pinched look on his face.

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Just catching my breath.”

Dad glances between us and then lets out a resigned huff. “Okay. I’ll stop hovering. But, Canyon, keep an eye on him in case he starts acting weird.”

“Too late for that,” Canyon jokes, his voice flat from the forced joke.

Dad chuckles, unaware. “Get along, boys. You’ll be brothers soon.”

With that, he exits the studio. His words ring in my ears as bile crawls up my throat. The room spins around me. I’m about to face plant when Canyon steps between my parted thighs, his large hands seizing my hips to keep me from toppling over.

“Hear that?” he taunts, though lacking his usual venom. “We’re going to be brothers. That means you have to get along with me.”

“This is so fucked up.” I close my eyes and swallow. “Seriously.”

“Yeah, well, that’s life. Get over it, Wonderland.”

His bitter tone has me circling back to his pissy attitude when he first showed up. I lean forward, inhaling his masculine scent, and rest my cheek on his chest.

“What happened?” I ask, my eyes fluttering closed. “You lost your shit.”

He tenses, his grip biting into my hips. “Nothing.”

“I’m not an idiot. Something happened.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t care. Spill it.”

Canyon pulls away from me, glowering and teeth grinding together. “It’s my mom.”

“She okay?”

“She…I think she’s lying to me about her job.”

His words sink in, and I see the heartache written all over his face. The track meet was important to him—more important than showing me up for his stupid revenge shit. He wanted her to root for him and be proud of him.

“I’m sorry.”

He clenches his teeth, his jaw muscle ticking, and looks away. “I tried to talk to her about it, but she just got angry.”

I watch him as he visibly hardens himself to whatever it is he’s feeling inside. His tough, mean boy act is nothing but a shield he uses to protect his vulnerable heart. I want to press him and demand answers.

Instead, I stand up, feeling much steadier. “Want to watch a movie before dinner?”

Blue eyes dart at me, relief evident at not having to continue this heavy discussion. “We could watch—”

“No,” I blurt out. “We’re not watching your creepy cartoon porn.”

“Mubōna Ikari.” His lips lift on one side in amusement. “And it’s not cartoon porn.”

“Still not watching it.”

“I bet I could convince you to watch it…” he trails off, his gaze dropping to my crotch. “Would be a pretty quick argument. All over in about three seconds.”

Smug asshole.

“Go fuck yourself, Canny.”

“As long as you watch, Wonderland.”

His wink shouldn’t make my dick hard, but goddammit, it does.

“Again, go fuck yourself, bro.”