Puck Me Harder: A Stepbrother Romance [BL]

Micah’s POV

I stood under the scorching stream of the hot shower for over five minutes, desperately trying to wash away everything that had happened today.

I wanted the scalding water to scrub off the feeling of Damon’s warm mouth around my skin, the lingering ghost of his fingers gripping my hips, and the terrifying, violent heat of Noah’s teeth sinking into my neck. If I stayed under the water long enough, maybe I could wash away the memories too. Maybe I could scrub my own brain clean until I was normal again.

My right hand flew up, my trembling fingers covering the sensitive spot on the side of my neck where Noah had bitten me. A sharp, stinging spike of heat immediately crept up my throat, spreading fast across my entire face.

I squeezed my eyes shut, letting the hot water beat down against my forehead. I tried to convince myself that the burning heat flaring up under my skin was just from the shower. It had to be the water. There was no way in hell I was standing here getting flustered just from thinking about Noah and Damon.

They were monsters. Both of them. They were dangerous, unstable, and completely out of their minds.

’I won’t meet Damon ever again,’ I swore to myself, grinding my teeth together as the water ran down my nose. ’I can’t.’

Tomorrow’s article for the university was going to be the end of it. I would finish writing the draft, and conclude every single connection between Damon Silver and me. After tomorrow, he would just be a rich, untouchable face walking around campus, and I would be invisible again.

I reached out with a shaking hand, clicked the metal knob, and turned off the shower.

Stepping out onto the damp bathmat, I grabbed a plush white towel and wrapped it tightly around my waist. I wiped the thick layer of steam off the bathroom mirror with my palm and stared at my reflection. My skin was flushed a dark, angry pink from the heat, but the mark on my neck stood out like a scarlet letter. It was dark red, almost purple around the edges, with distinct tiny tooth marks right in the center. A physical seal of possession.

A cold shudder ran down my spine. I quickly turned away from the mirror.

It was almost evening by the time I dried myself off. The house was completely silent. The heavy, suffocating quiet told me everything I needed to know—neither father nor Noah had returned home yet.

I hurried over to my closet and pulled on a warm, thick gray sweater and a pair of simple sweatpants, wanting to cover every inch of my body. Once I was fully dressed, I crept down the dimly lit staircase and walked into the kitchen. My stomach let out a soft, hollow rumble.

I pulled open the refrigerator and stared aimlessly at the neat rows of groceries inside. I wanted to cook something simple for myself, but my mind was completely tied up in knots of anxiety.

What if I cooked a meal just for myself, and then father or Noah walked through the front door ten minutes later, tired and hungry? If they saw that I had made food only for myself, father would call me a selfish, worthless parasite, and Noah... Noah would look at me with those cold, terrifying eyes that made my blood run backwards. But if I went ahead and cooked a massive feast for three people, and they returned home with zero appetite, father would scream at me for wasting expensive food and throw the entire tray into the trash.

Every single choice in this house felt like walking through a minefield.

I pulled my phone out of my sweater pocket and stared down at the dark screen. My thumb hovered nervously over the settings. With a soft sigh, I went into my blocked list and unblocked both father’s and Noah’s phone numbers.

My fingers hovered over Noah’s contact name. My heart started pounding against my ribs, hard and fast.

Do I call them and ask if they’re going to eat dinner tonight?

I raised my free hand to my mouth, my teeth digging deep into the side of my thumb until it stung. I couldn’t bring myself to tap father’s number. I was too terrified to even hear his voice over the speaker.

"Maybe I should call Noah..." I muttered softly under my breath, my thumb lowering toward the green call button.

CLICK.

The sharp, heavy sound of the front door unlocking echoed loudly through the quiet foyer.

I flinched so hard I nearly dropped my phone. My chest seized up in pure panic as I frantically slammed the phone face-down onto the cold granite kitchen counter. I turned around, smoothing down the front of my sweater with sweaty palms, and took slow, hesitating steps out of the kitchen toward the entryway.

Father walked in.

He looked as cold and imposing as ever, dressed in a sharp, dark three-piece suit that showed zero wrinkles despite the long day. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence at first. He kicked his expensive Italian leather dress shoes off into the side closet and placed his heavy leather briefcase right onto the kitchen counter, next to my phone.

"Welcome home, father," I whispered softly, keeping my head bowed respectfully.

He didn’t reply. He stood there for a long, agonizing moment, glaring down at me with those piercing, hollow eyes that always made me feel like an insect under a microscope. He looked around the empty, dark hallway, his jaw clenching tightly.

I knew exact what was coming. I knew he was about to ask his usual, predictable question.

"Where is Noah?" father demanded, his voice flat, deep, and completely devoid of warmth.

"He... he stepped out a little while ago," I stammered, my eyes glued strictly to the dark hardwood floor between his shoes. "He said he’d be back soon. It’s probably... hockey practice, or..."

My voice trailed off into a weak, pathetic whisper. I pressed my lips together into a thin line, squeezing my eyes shut for a second. I didn’t actually have a clue where Noah had driven off to in such a rush. I couldn’t keep pulling fake excuses out of thin air to cover for him, especially not when father looked like he was ready to snap someone’s neck.

Father’s frown deepened, the lines around his forehead hardening into a lethal glare.

"Look at me when I am speaking to you," father snapped coldly.

I immediately snapped my head up, my eyes wide with fear as I looked at his harsh face.

"I still have no idea what sick little game is going on between you and those Silvers," father said, his tone dropping into a dangerous, low rumble that made the air in the hallway feel ice-cold. "But let me make one thing crystal clear to you, Micah. The very moment I find you anywhere near them again, you will cease being my son. Do you understand me?"

A tight knot formed in my throat. I swallowed hard, forcing the rising lump down, and gave a swift, obedient nod.

"Yes, father."

"Make dinner and bring it straight up to my room the moment it is ready," he ordered curtly, turning his back on me without waiting for a reply.

"Yes, father."

I stood completely still in the middle of the hallway, watching his tall, dark figure march up the grand staircase until he disappeared around the corner and his heavy bedroom door clicked shut.