The Devil’s Game
The lights were harsh, fluorescent, making everything too bright and real.
Aiden caught sight of himself in the mirror and groaned.
He looked wrecked. Completely wrecked.
His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction. His lips were swollen and red. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his skin.
And then there was the hickey.
Right there on the lower side of his neck, dark and obvious and impossible to miss.
"Fuck," Aiden said again, reaching up to touch it. He rubbed at it like he could make it disappear, but all that did was make it redder.