Chapter 4

Muse’s POV.

My throat closes up instantly by fear or instant attraction; I can’t tell them apart. Maybe because I feel both. I force the lump down as I trail my eyes from his gorgeous ones to his body.

And, dear Christ, my target is a fine specimen. I mentally punch myself for assuming the photographer edited the picture of him I saw in Mr. Gus’s office.

This man looks helluva hot in reality. He towers over me at his 6’0 height, looking glorious and mouthwatering, especially with the rivulets of water dripping down his defined pectorals.

I swallow hard, mentally cursing the towel wrapped loosely around his waist because I want to see what’s beneath that V-line.

My eyes drift past the bulge the towel is hiding to his toned legs and then back up to his face. His pale skin shimmers under the fluorescent lights. When he motions toward me and his biceps ripple, my breath catches immediately. I forget how to breathe.

One brow lifted, his voice comes out smooth and unhurried, carrying the quiet calm of someone who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Maybe he really wouldn’t.

Yet here I was, sent to destroy the one man who seemed incapable of harming a soul.

“Why are you here?”

Shivers sputter through my spine at his question, and I scramble for the best reasonable answer while my heart hammers rapidly over my ribcage.

“Hi, I’m the new student assistant to…”

“I know who you are.” He says in a deep baritone voice this time, making my lashes flutter.

Heat floods my cheeks, and I fight to keep my cool. How did he know about me?

“Muse Whitney. A pre-med student from Canada. You arrived on the island at 1:36 P.M today.” He says. Shock blasts through my features at his words.

No way. How does he know so many details about me? Even my arrival time?

Wait, does he know I’m here to kill him?

My silence prompts him to chuckle; his hiked brow twitches. Earlier, I mentioned his killer smile, but you need to hear his quiet chuckle. It’s enchanting in the most dangerous way, drawing me deeper into his orbit and eliciting strange…

No, I’m definitely not giving those tingles between my legs a name.

He takes a step toward me, and suddenly the room feels too small. The air thickens, growing unbearably warm as his presence closes in around me. It isn’t him that’s suffocating me; it’s my own treacherous attraction to him.

My rational mind breaks through the haze, forcing the reckless thoughts circling my head back under. I need to get my head back in the game. There shouldn’t be any sort of attraction between me and my target. My family’s lives are at stake here.

And yet, sweat beads on my forehead the closer he gets. I backpedal instinctively, giving him a wide berth. I’m not sure what his motives are, but I need to be prepared for any attack.

“How did you know about me?” I ask amid the lump of dread pooling in my mouth.

He shrugs casually, “I know everything and everyone on this island. Especially those I’ll be seeing in my rink.”

“Your rink?” I snort, rolling my eyes. He said that because he’s an Islander.

“It’s pretty much obvious.” He stalks closer, his eyes glowing amber as he walks into my space. “You haven’t answered my question, though. Why are you here, Muse?”

Oh, that. I clear my throat and spill the first thing that comes to my mind. “I came to check if everything your team will be needing for the game is complete. Well, it appears I came too late.”

The corner of his lips curl. He’s grinning as if he’s completely certain I’m lying.

“You had three minutes to check the equipment, confirm whatever you needed to confirm, and leave,” he says evenly. “But you didn’t. You stayed.” He takes another slow step toward me until he boxes me against a locker. His gaze never leaves mine. “If I’m right, you’ve been here for nearly ten minutes.” A corner of his mouth lifts. “More than enough time for me to figure out that you weren’t here to inspect the equipment.”

He tilts his head, his voice dropping to a quiet, dangerous murmur. “How about you tell me the real reason you’re here? Why were you going through my things?”

I’m cornered. Totally. Unavoidably. This sin-on-legs of a target has seen right through my game and is seconds away from checkmating me.

How he knows everything down to the number of minutes I spent checking his items scares me to the bones.

His attention to detail is as impressive as it is terrifying. I can’t help but wonder what he’ll do now that he has me cornered. The warmth that was in his amber eyes moments ago has vanished, replaced by an icy stare that sends a chill racing down my spine.

His voice isn’t calm and smooth any longer. It has a rougher edge to it. An animalistic edge that should send me into flight mode. Instead, my body viscerally reacts to it.

That’s why I stay, despite myself. I look at his items on the bench and then back at him.

“What does it look like?” I ask and then force a smile. If he hasn’t mentioned my adding something into his water bottle, then he hasn’t discovered it yet. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to find out. “I’m a fan of yours. I was waiting to see if I can, uh, get your autograph.”

Jules chuckles, a rich, spell-binding sound. “A fan, huh? And yet you don’t have any I can sign on. Not even my jersey.”

Scratch that!

My spontaneous lies keep disappointing me.

I blurt out at the last minute, the words stunning even me.

“Who says?” I stick out my wrist to him. “It won’t be a bad idea to get it signed on my body.”

He chuckles, trailing his gaze from my wrist to my face. “Hm. Actually, it’s not a bad idea.” He hums. Then adds in a deep growl. “However, I’ll decide where I’ll get it signed.”

My mouth drops open at his response. What does he mean?

I was about to ask him for clarity, but Jules walks to a locker I’m assuming is his, rifles through it, and walks back with a marker.

I tense when he strides back into my space.

I breathe in the fresh scent of his soap as he looms over me, his hand ghosting over my arm until it lands on my neck.

Shudders wrack through me at the feather-light of his fingers.

“Hey, I don’t think it’s right for you to do that.”

Because his closeness and touch in that area I didn’t know was sensitive until now makes me think of unholy things.

“You walked into my territory, berry; I should be the one who decides what to do to you. Where to touch. Not you.”

His words brook no room for argument. My pulse drums when his thumb draws a slow, enticing arc over the hammering pulse.

“Your heart is beating fast,” He whispers against my lips.

I tense, eyes flicking up to him. I rasp in the hot air between us. “Because of you.”

A mischievous smirk tilts his lips before he growls. “Soon, it’ll beat for me.”

I don’t know if that’s a threat or not. Or if it’s the general thing he says to girls. All I know is that it makes my blood sizzle.

I can’t look away, especially now he’s staring down at my lips.

My eyes finally close when he bends his face into the column of my neck, breathing me in. A quiet moan scratches the back of my throat. With effort, I suppress it.

What on earth am I doing, letting myself get ensnared in my target’s trap?

I should go, but I can’t find any strength in me to scramble away from his presence. The tip of his tongue swipes over the sensitive skin, and I tremble against him.

When he pulls away, he brings the marker up, scribbling something gently on the place he’s just licked.

The spell or whatever haze my visceral attraction to him put me into clears, and I gasp, reaching a hand to my neck and panicking.

“What did you do?” I push my glasses further against the bridge of my nose.

“Marking you, berry. That shouldn’t go off. It has to stay until the mark wears off on its own.”

“I’m not an animal you can go around marking, you butthole.” I fume. He doesn’t flinch. He casually walks back to his locker and flips the marker inside it.

And who says he is right to tell me what to do with my body? This guy is impossible, and it annoys me. Kind of.

With an exasperated huff, I hurry out of the room and make a beeline for the nearest restroom. The moment I step inside, I rush to the mirror and crane my neck, desperate to see what he’d scrawled across my skin.

“bært mitt.”

What on earth does that mean? Is that some kind of ancient word or norsk?

I don’t care, I just need to get this off.

I lean over the sink to wash it off, but it’s not erasing. He used a water-resistant marker, crap!

Don’t worry, Jules, I know exactly what will clean it off.

_

I spend the rest of the day meeting my program advisor, touring the school even though the orientation is in a few days.

Well, it’s during my little tour that I met Marina and her girlfriend. Apparently, they’re both heading to the grand arena.

Marina is wearing the Black Titans’ jersey. Not just that, but Jules’s Jersey with “15” in bold print.

Well, so much for an ex-boyfriend.

I shake off the image of Jules cornering me in the locker room and branding me like I’m his property off my mind.

“There you are!” Marina chirps excitedly as she pulls me into a hug. “I have been looking everywhere for you. Give me your number.”

She takes my phone and dials her number before saving our numbers in both our phones.

“Now, I have your number. You look exhausted.”

I shrug. “I am. I’ll be heading to the dorm now.”

Marina gasps. “Wait, you’re not coming to watch my brother’s game?”

My face contorts. “Brother?”

“Uh-huh.” She jerks her jersey sleeves, pointing at the name on it. “Jules. This is his first game this season. So, I’m going to cheer him up.”

And then everything clicks into place.

My target is my sweet, loving roommate’s brother. Christ, Newman knew this, and he carefully planted me into Marina’s life.

Why else? So that I can find the easiest way to eliminate her brother. He knows that if Marina and I are roommates and I warm up to her, she’ll be giving me information.

Here I was, thinking she’s Jules’s ex.

“I mentioned it before, right?” Her chirpy voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

“I guess I forgot.” I bite out, peeling my lips in a smile. This is becoming more complicated than I thought.

Shit. Marina is a nice person, and I don’t want to use her. Seeing how bubbly she is when she talks about Jules, she definitely loves her brother.

Guilt clouds me when she takes my hand, promising to give me a nice treat after watching the games with her, and of course, rooting for her brother.

I follow them on autopilot as the sky darkens and shadows crest over Blackridge. A giant lump forms in my throat knowing I’m just about to watch my roommate’s brother die in the arena.

I didn’t think I’d be committing the same crime twice in my life.

Murder.