ARTEMIS' POV
I throw a few more fist blows at my half-dead punch bag, which is bleeding sand all over the floor through the rip I made in the heat of my anger.
Kamila stands there, breathing hard and fast. I guess her so-called visit didn't turn out the way she hoped.
I saw it in her eyes-the way they widened each time I gave a response she wasn't expecting, responses that pointed toward me not wanting her here.
I wonder what demented expectations she had coming here after what she did. I must have burst that bubble of hers.
She huffs and finally stomps out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Now, I can finally focus my attention on other things, more important things to distract myself.
Like getting a new punching bag, for example.
"That was harsh," Jasper comments, breaking the silence once the room goes quiet.
I remember that he's still here. I've been ignoring him for the past hour, hoping he'd get the message and leave on his own. Obviously, that tactic isn't effective against him.
I give no response, walking over to the sidebar and pouring myself a drink. The bitter taste runs down my throat with a chill, and I savor the good burn.
"You could have cut her a little slack," he continues, annoying as ever.
"You don't know what you're talking about," I shoot back.
"I'm sure I do. You're in a sour mood and probably hate the world right now. Big whoop. Talking to your mate that way, though, isn't okay."
I'm immediately ticked off by that word: mate.
That insufferable title has tied me down like heavy chains since I knew anything. It's a painful reminder of the life I've lived, how much I've hated it, and how much I want to break free.
"You're really taking her side right now? She fucking hates your guts and your entire personality," I point out, finally looking at him.
He backs down for a moment, hit by the truth we both know, but shrugs it off eventually.
"Still, she's a lady and your mate."
"Fuck that 'mate' bullshit!" I yell, getting to my feet and walking a bit closer to him. He shuts up, looking at me with less confidence than before.
"She doesn't care; she's never genuinely cared about me. It's all been about her own title being attached to mine, because she had to please her father. It's always been for her own selfish desires. That's why it was so easy for her to..."
So easy for her to use Sera to get to me.
I can't say the words; it hurts too much. My heart is ripping inside.
If I say them, I'll explode. All that anger boiling within me for days will come forth, and I don't know what I'd do with myself. I
find myself hating her for orchestrating this whole thing and dragging Sera into it, for using her to mess me up like this.
How could someone like that care? How could they deserve an ounce of respect from me?
"You need to calm down, man. Work through your shit. Being mean and punching through walls isn't going to help at all. Maybe you should talk things through with Sera..."
The sound of her name constricts my chest and I lose it. "Get out."
"What?"
I pick up the glass cup from the bar and toss it against the wall behind him. It shatters into a million pieces.
"Get the fuck out before I use you as a replacement," I point to the broken sack beside me.
He frowns, shivering for a moment, not offended, just sad. The look of pity in his eyes is all too evident, and it only makes me more furious.
I'm not one to be pitied. I don't need pity over the fact that she used me. I'm not that pathetic.
He grabs his jacket and leaves the room.
Finally, I'm alone. But it's not enough. His little annoying speech has already planted a seed, and all I want to do is break a wall.
So I do, plunging my fist into the one closest to me, leaving a mark in the drywall.
I'm losing my sanity.
With every passing moment, she comes into my mind, squeezing her way in and tormenting me with her smile and laughter. Mocking me endlessly.
I want to hate that smile on her lips, the sound of her laughter. I want to hate the way those green eyes stare at me, how she bites her lips when she's in trouble, and absentmindedly plays with her hair when she's deep in thought.
At the very least, I want to get her out of my mind, to not want her anymore, but it's as if fate has never been on my side, not once.
Instead, I spend hours in the night wide awake, staring at the ceiling, reliving those moments when she was with me. When I had a taste of the pleasure she'd never received before.
Dammit, I want to do it all again, and this time, I won't hold back-even if she stabs me multiple times.
I'll sink my teeth into her skin, deep enough for it to hurt but still drive her wild.
Suddenly, I'm in no mood to lift weights or punch a wall. Suddenly, I'm too annoyed to do anything else.
The silence I so desperately craved now annoys me more than the noise did, noise loud enough to have distracted me from thinking about her.
So, I head back to my room. The door is open by the time I get there.
Pushing it further open, I spot Zoya on my bed.
She's dressed in the scantiest piece of clothing, barely covering her ass, only covering the bud-like nipples of her firm yet small chest. She turns to me with a smile, striking a provocative pose on my bed.
"Hey," she mutters softly, curling her fingers toward herself, urging me to join her on the bed.
Instead, I reach for a towel, wiping sweat off my forehead, unfazed by her impromptu visit. After I ditched her at that party, I thought I wouldn't see her again.
Very convenient for her to show up when I'm like this.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, maintaining my composure.
"It's no news that our dearest Alpha prince has been in a rut these past few days. The whole school has noticed it, and news spreads fast."
"You haven't answered my question."
"I came to keep you company. You know how it was between us. When all else fails, and you're fed up with your mate and other responsibilities, only I can soothe that ache."
She gets up from the bed, tiptoeing towards me slowly, until she's wrapped around me.
She caresses the back of my hair with her long, claw-like fingers, smiling both seductively and wickedly before placing her head on my chest.
"I'm not like your mate; I don't mind you using me for a rebound. All I want is you."
Her scent is overpoweringly floral, as if to mask her actual smell. It's grating in a way, but I don't fight it.
I have been in a rut, so intense that it's messing with my mind. Hornier than I can possibly articulate, horny and angry. Livid at the girl who caused all this in the first place.
I got her off, and she stabbed me.
"How did you get in here?" I ask, lifting one of her hands off me.
She raises her hand, showing me the keys I lent her a year ago before she left school.
"That's very nice; gives me a reason to finally change the locks on my door."
Her eyebrow arches.
"I don't understand."
"Get out."
She's not Sera; there's nothing she could possibly do for me, and I'm not in the mood to humor or try her out. It's already settled for me.
"One thing Kamila is actually better at is having some dignity and self-respect."
She looks wounded and hurt, grabs her fur coat she wore over all this, and leaves the room without arguing.
She's gone, and now I can breathe.
I collapse onto the other bed, not mine. I haven't yet gotten rid of it or changed the sheets. It's hard, but I can't bring myself to do it.
I sink my face into the material and take a deep breath. The faint remnants of her scent are still there, and I'm instantly aroused.
My mind replays the night before it all fell apart, recalling how it felt to kiss her lips for more than a second, to touch and caress her body, to worship every bit of her.
How it felt to press against her, to feel her warmth, and to be intoxicated by her smell.
I unzip my pants, pulling them down, and begin with a steady pumping rhythm, my eyes closed. I savor every bit of the moment, torn between being angry with her and wanting her so desperately that it hurts.
Finally, I find release, staining the sheets.