Page 27 of Brutal Titan

“Mine, Victoria,” I shout, watching as she freezes in place. I step behind her, close enough that she’s within my physical reach, but I refrain from wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her to me, knowing the part of her I need isn’t anywhere within my reach. Maybe it’s the drinks, maybe it’s just the hold she has over me, but I don’t care who’s listening or that I won’t be able to explain my way out of this one. “You’re all mine. You know it, and I know.”

Spinning to face me, she jabs her finger into my chest as she speaks through gritted teeth. “No. I’m not, because you’ll never get past who I am—Asher’s little sister.”

If she only knew.

Spinning on her heel, she storms off in Quinn’s direction. Perfect, I have yet to greet her. Hot on Victoria’s heels, under the guise of playing the perfect host, I drape my arm over Quinn’s shoulder. “Welcome, Quinnster. Mi casa es su casa.”

Though I’d intended to remain close, duty calls when someone hollers my name from across the room. I watch Victoria and Quinn head out to the patio, where they relax on a pair of lounge chairs. I’m ridiculously relieved she’s given up on dancing with losers for the time being.

Over the course of the night, I can’t keep my eyes off her, wanting to be next to her, even if she doesn’t want the same. Tonight, I’m just going to make it easy on myself, I decide as I spot her sleeping soundly. She looks at peace for the first time since I’ve started doing nothing but torturing her.

“She’s out.” I can’t help but chuckle as I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. If she were awake, she’d be cussing me out, but thankfully, we can put that on hold and resume the battle tomorrow. Tonight, I’m accepting defeat handed to me by a set of emerald eyes that pierce straight to my soul every time they look my way. Sitting on the end of Quinn’s lounge chair, my eyes remain on the source of my sweet surrender.

“Yeah, I was going to head upstairs, but I didn’t want to just leave her asleep here,” Quinn says, causing me to be thankful Victoria had someone looking out for her.

Standing, I motion for Quinn to do the same as she rises. Pushing the lounge chair as close to Victoria as it will go. “I’ll keep an eye on her. I need a break anyways.” A much-needed break, and I have a feeling I’ll get a good one just having her near.

“Great party, by the way,” Quinn laughs.

Situating myself on the lounge chair, I tuck my arm behind my head, wishing I could wrap it around Victoria instead. How can someone drive me insane in so many ways? I hate how she makes me feel, yet I sit here, craving her even more each day.

“How do you get up there?”

Glancing to see Quinn pointing to the balcony, my eyes close as I respond. “Take the kitchen staircase, and it’s the last door on the right.”

Quinn says thanks as I tell her to thank me tomorrow because I’ll need all the appreciation I can get when the torment resumes.

Tonight, I just want to sleep—without nightmares, without thinking that the person next to me bailed on me and will almost certainly do it again, and without fear that I’ll just keep going back for more when she does.

16

Victoria

A strong force latches around my legs, pinning my knees together as what feels like a hand slips under my back, rubbing along my shoulder blades. Clawing my way to consciousness, panic kicks in. My eyes fight to open as I struggle against the hold on my legs.

“No, no, no.” The words pour out as a desperate plea. Am I screaming or silent? I can’t tell, but I do feel the grip on me go rigid.

“Victoria, wake up.” Elliot’s voice registers in my mind as I relent, sucking in a deep breath and relaxing against him. I don’t know who I thought it was, but after vaguely recalling dozing off in middle of the party, I’m thankful there was plenty people around, unlike the guesthouse situation. Elliot remains tense with his arms under my knees and back as he hovers over me. “I was just going to take you to your room.”

Looking around, I see that the patio has cleared out, leaving just a few people here and there, as I push away from him. “I’m fine.”

“Yes. You were perfectly fine sleeping out here curled up in a little ball, looking like you were freezing to death, but being the gracious yet pathetic host that I am, I didn’t want to leave you out here because it’s a tad bit chillier than your demeanor.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I jump to my feet, wobbling slightly whether it’s from the alcohol or still being half-asleep, I don’t know. What I do know is he looks stupidly attractive even when he’s torturing me. “And whose fault is that?” Spinning, I begin to walk away as he says the last thing I expect to hear.

“Mine.”

Sluggishly rotating, I study his gloomy stance, shoulders slumped forward with his hands tucked into his pockets, a far cry from the chipper party host I’d witnessed all evening—except for when he was an arrogant bastard, yanking an orgasm from me that I thoroughly enjoyed. But what really throws me is how he knows exactly what to say to get to me. Hurriedly, I turn away from him. I’m not drunk enough to engage with him and not sober enough to keep my feelings to myself. Shuffling up the stairs, I don’t realize he’s a step behind me until I walk into the guest room that serves as my refuge. “Go away, Elliot. I don’t want to do this right now. I can’t.” My voice squeaks out, exhausted and emotional from everything going on.

“I don’t want to do it either, so how about a truce?”

“Sure, until you find some new way to make my life miserable.”

He moves to the dresser along the far wall of the room. Pulling a drawer open, he reaches in, retrieving a sketchbook that I’m guessing is the same one I’d thrown at him. Stretching his arm out, he holds the book between us, his eyes penetrating me. I don’t know what to do, it’s all a joke to him. Everything. But I want this to be done. It’s exhausting waiting to see what he’s going to do next just to make me miserable.

Reaching for the book, I grab it, my arm dropping by my side. “Fine. But only if we can go back to how it was before”—my voice drops, defeated—“you kissed me.”

Moving in front of me, his arm slides around my back, pulling me to him. “I can’t go back because I know what it’s like to hold you, feel you, kiss you … touch you.”

“No. You can’t call a truce then say things like that.”

“Things like what?”

“Sweet, caring, kind things. Things that make me believe you might be something other than the jerk who wants to make my life miserable. There can’t be a truce if you won’t stop because your kind, caring words are more painful than the brutal ones.”

Raising his arm, his palm cups my cheek as he bends down. His lips so near to my ear I feel his warm breath on my skin. “I can’t help who I am any more than you can change who you are.” His hand quickly drops away as he steps around me, swinging the door open. He strides through, slamming it behind him as I flinch at the sound of frustration left in his wake. Just as he has done so many times, his abrupt one-eighty still leaves me floored. How can he be angry when he’s the one who stirred this up to begin with? That one stupid kiss has now spiraled into a never-ending torment session.

My eyes drop to the smooth black leather, my finger stroking across it. Opening the cover, I read his heart-wrenching inscription again.

Hopeless or not, I meant every word.

E

Moving to the bed, I drop the book on top, then step back. I won’t allow him to get into my head or make me drop my guard by thinking he won’t keep toying with my heart, because I know he will. Even before he kissed me, he always made me feel like a nuisance tagging along with him and Asher. Would he even have given me a second look if he hadn’t been forced to be around me all these years? Pulling my phone from my pocket, I quickly open the app to request a ride. There’s no way Asher will be sober enough to leave right now, and even if my car was here with me, it wouldn’t be smart to drive home. But I can’t be here. I have to leave because it’s taking every single ounce of my strength not to follow him. I want to tell him that I can’t go back either, knowing how it feels for his arms to hold me, longing to be back in them again, hopeless or not.