Accueil / MM Romance / KNOTTING ON ICE: Scentless Obsession / Chapitre 81 - Chapitre 90

Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 81 - Chapitre 90

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81. Snooping Bride

Neylan"What exactly were you discussing with Laurentis?" I demand, slamming the door to my room.The wood clicks shut with a sharp, echoing snap. Elyce doesn't even flinch. She's sitting on my leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other, typing something on her phone, her expression completely calm, a small smirk playing on her lips."Good evening to you too, Neylan," She sets her phone face down on the small glass table next to her. "I see you're still in a fantastic mood."This woman!"Don't play with me, Elyce," I spit, walking into the center of the room. My knuckles are white, my hands clenched inside my pockets. My skull is still throbbing, and seeing her face right now is making my blood boil. "I saw you at the Wraiths' facility yesterday. What the fuck do you want with Aurel?"Elyce tilts her head, her eyes tracking my movement with absolute indifference. She reaches down, smoothing out the edge of her coat with her

82. Cycle up

AurelNow I have to appear in that gala and suddenly my cycle is acting up?Such fucking luck!The suppressant pills dissolve bitter on my tongue, leaving a chemical burn down my throat. I spit into the sink, rinsing my mouth out with cold tap water, but the internal heat in my chest refuses to cool down. It bakes me from the inside out, a low, pulsing fever vibrating right under my ribs.I slam the medicine cabinet shut. The mirror rattles.My reflection looks like trash. My skin is too pale, my eyes bloodshot, and the sweat on my forehead has nothing to do with the morning skate. My cycle is throwing my entire system into chaos, glitching hard after weeks without Neylan’s calming scent. My body is literally starving for it, treating his absence like a physical withdrawal."Fucking pull it together, Aurel" I mutter to myself, gripping the edge of the marble counter.I reach into my gym bag on the floor, dragging out a f

83. Lost Gaze

Neylan The flashbulbs of the paparazzi are blinding, but my eyes are perfectly adjusted to find the one man who shouldn't be here. I stand on the black carpet, my arm locked around Elyce’s waist. The fabric of her silk dress feels slick under my palm, greedily reminding of this fucking cage I’m stuck in. Every time a lens clicks, she shifts her weight, flashing a perfect, practiced smile for the reporters crowding the velvet ropes. I keep my jaw set with my entire face a mask of wealthy indifference, doing the exact job my old man paid for. "Smile, Neylan," Elyce murmurs through her teeth, her lips barely moving as she waves at a camera crew from the sports network. "The board members from the merger are standing right by the entrance. Don't look like you're attending a funeral." "Fuck the board," I mutter back, my grip tightening on her hip just enough to make her smile falter for a second. My father’s booming laugh rings out over the chatter of the crowd. He’s standing w

84. Don't Touch Him

Aurel The noise of the crowd blurs into a low hum as I grip the edge of the champagne table to keep my knees from buckling. The polished wood digs into my palms, the only thing locking me to the floorboards. Sweat slicks my neck, dripping down the inside of my stiff collar. The double dose of meds from earlier isn't doing shit anymore. A raw, violent wave of heat hits my gut, radiating outward until my skin feels like it’s bubbling under my suit. It’s a heat spike. A full, stress-induced breakdown of my blockers. "Get a grip," I mutter, my chest heaving as I stare down at the rows of crystal glasses. The bubbles in the champagne spin, turning into blurry streaks of gold light. "You look like you need a drink, Mr. Laurentis." The smooth, quiet voice cuts right through my panic. I freeze, my fingers locking onto the edge of the table. Elyce steps into my line of sight, a cold, crystal glass of water extended toward my hand. She doesn't wait for me to take it. She slides righ

85. Stay away

Neylan Fuck! I need to get Elyce away from Aurel right now. I know this bitch too well. This isn't some professional corporate talk. She has something up her fucking sleeves, and that small, sharp smirk on her face proves it. The three of us are just standing here in the middle of the crowded ballroom. To the billionaires and board members drinking champagne around us, we probably look like high-profile players discussing some stupid hockey sponsorship deal. But up close, the vibe is pure trash. My fingers are locked like iron around Elyce’s wrist. I don't fucking get it, but there's an aggressive thug in my chest that makes me want to grab Aurel and run the hell out of this place with him. Every bone in my body is hitting red alert. I just need to get her out of his space. Right behind me, Aurel is breathing hard. His broad shoulders are shaking under his suit jacket. His scent is glitching out crazy, did he even take his suppressant? It’s a messy, broken signal, but I can pi

86. heat blocker

Aurel I throw my weight against the door of the hotel’s private locker room, locking it from the inside with a trembling hand. The metal bolt slides into place with a sharp, hollow thud. My knees give out instantly. I slide down the cold wall, my back dragging against the smooth tile until my ass hits the floorboards. "Fuck," I gasp, my voice sounding like broken glass in the quiet room. My hands fly to my throat, ripping at my black silk bow tie. I yank it loose, tearing the top two buttons right off my tuxedo shirt. They pop off and skitter across the floor tiles like tiny plastic teeth. My chest heaves. Every breath feels like I'm inhaling straight steam. My core temperature surges, a brutal, white-hot fever spiking from the center of my gut and rushing straight into my limbs. I can't help the vibration in my body. The air in my lungs feels toxic. Sweat pours down my face, soaking the stiff linen of my collar until it clings to my skin like plastic wrap. My suppressants are f

87. Inducer

Elyce Damn it! I was only able to pluck a few strands of his hair before Neylan showed up and ruined the play. I keep my arm locked around Neylan’s waist, my smile fixed perfectly for the flashbulbs as we walk step-by-step down the red carpet. The reporters are shouting our names, their lenses clicking in a fast, but my mind is entirely down that dark corridor where the captain of the Wraiths just fled. Neylan can pretend to hate Aurel in front of others all he wants. He can play the bitter league rival, grinding his teeth and throwing glares across the rink. But I see right through the bullshit. I can see the fucking look in his eyes every time Aurel enters the room. I can see the longing mixed with hatred, an obsession that goes way deeper than a sports grudge. Something has to be going on between them, for even Aurel to be looking at him like he’d jump on him any moment and I intend to dig it out tonight. I slide my free hand into my designer clutch, my fingers finding the gl

88. Caught

Aurel The master key grinds inside the lock. Fuck. I plant my feet against the tiles, throwing my shoulder against the door. My left hand grips the handle, locking my fingers down with everything I have left. The door shudders. A heavy force pushes from the other side, trying to shove it open. My throat goes dry instantly, my lungs burn as the heat spike rips through me. The door gives way. Shoving forward, my shoes slip on the slick tile. One hand forces the wood back while the other drives the injector down. The person on the other side gives another heavy push. The wood cracks against my shoulder. I can't hold him back. The door opens an inch. A broad chest forces through the gap. I drive the tube down into my thigh and hit the trigger. The needle plunges through my trousers. My scent vanished and sucked back into my pores as the blockers force my body down. The door flies open, slamming hard against the wall. I stumble backward, dropping the empty tube onto the floor. I

89. Escape

AurelA hand clamps down on my shoulder, jerking me back against the brick wall.My fingers tighten around my phone. Shoving the screen into my pocket, I twist around, digging an elbow hard toward his ribs.It is not Neylan.A stranger stands under the dim streetlamp. Tailored charcoal suit, crisp white collar, and deep red hair combed back tight. He looks like old money. "Aurel Laurentis," he says. The voice flat in the freezing air. He extends a hand, his gold watch catching the glare of the traffic lights. "Dominic Hitler. A pleasure."Hitler? What kind of fucking name is that?I don't take his hand. My arms stay pinned to my sides, my palms slick with cold sweat. My chest heaves under the stiff tuxedo fabric. The ice in my veins from the emergency injection is already starting to crack. Fuck. I can't waste any more time here. "I'm off the clock," I grit out in a raw voice, "No autographs tonight.""I'm not a fan, Mr. Laurentis," Dominic says. His hand drops back to his side, his

90. Butterfly

AurelSunlight cuts straight through the glass pane, hitting the hardwood floor in a sharp, bright square. Outside, the sky is clear, dead blue, without a single cloud.My knuckles twist into the silk of my tie. My fingers slip.Damn! I can't explain the joy I feel today.It is the morning of Hannah and Anthony’s ceremony. The venue is a secluded, beautiful garden estate far from the city center. I need to be present for my friends today.Anthony stands in front of the full-length mirror, his shoulders rigid under the black fabric of his wedding suit. He fumbles with his left cufflink, his thumb sliding off the silver metal twice.I step up behind him, knocking his hands out of the way. I grab the silver cufflink, forcing the small metal post straight through the stiff fabric of his sleeve."Stop moving," I grit out in a raw voice. "You’re going to tear the seams before you even walk out there."Anthony lets out a sharp laugh, his shoulders dropping an inch. "Hands are shaking. Can't

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