Reign A Romance Anthology - Nina Levine Page 0,265

since he’s the only person I’ve met outside of my teammates, I hang out with them, especially when the chicks keep appearing as though there is an invisible magnet in the centre of our group. I continue to down triple shots of scotch, and in the moment, life seems uncomplicated.

“Hey, man, there’s a party in the valley. Are you in?” Cade clinks his glass with mine.

Fortitude Valley is close to my teammate, Braxton’s, house, where I’m temporarily renting a room. I figure I could party and still get home for a few hours’ sleep.

“Sure, why not? So long as I get some rest before my first training in the morning.”

He scratches the side of his face. “Your first training…”

“It’s more of a team meeting and light session,” I state. The workout is not strenuous enough to motivate me to go home before dawn. Over the years, I’ve managed training with alcohol still pumping through my veins. A larger body can handle far more than the average guy. It’s what I tell myself, anyway.

Four of us squeeze into a taxi and clamber out only a few minutes later. It would have been less painful to walk rather than squish like sardines. The house before me has no lights out front, even though the music pumps behind a high fence and a thick trunk of an imposing tree. Its snakelike branches twist toward a charcoal sky. I ignore the notion of it obscuring unwanted attention and follow Cade toward the house.

“Watch the path.” Cade shines the light of his phone to a paved walkway, the pavers unlevel where the massive tree roots protrude. “Phoenix is all for nature’s traps to surprise unwanted guests.” He points to a smooth boulder positioned a few steps ahead. “Hate to count the number of people who have tripped and smashed their skull on that.”

Hell, I can envisage the news…

Drunken football star trips at party house…

Cade leads me to a door beneath the house. The downstairs is enclosed. I doubt the craftmanship is legal, and when the door closes behind me, I realise why.

The music blares from speakers at the back of the room. Along the side are beds with half-naked people going for it without caring who is witnessing their sexual acts. There’s a musky smell, damp and something else. Then I catch a whiff of smoke, and the aroma leads me to a group of men in the corner smoking—not cigarettes.

“Who the fuck have you dragged in?” The inked man’s voice is squeaky as though someone has punched him in the throat. Only my eyes don’t trick me into believing his voice indicates a passive man. Both arms and his naked torso are marked with skulls, crosses and snakes, and his bare head is also black and blue with more artwork.

In the next breath, I have a moment of déjà vu, reliving nights of pain when people and places like this helped ease the ache eating away my soul. Angels disguised in ink.

Cade jabs a thumb in my direction. “Dustin Williams. The star ruckman Brisbane has recruited from The Thunder in Adelaide.”

Squinty eyes survey me in a quick up-and-down assessment.

“Relax, Phoenix,” he croaks.

I hold out my hand and stagger. Shit, I’m drunker than I realised.

Phoenix folds his arms over his barrel chest. “You trust this sasquatch?”

That’s calling the kettle black when he’s only a half foot shorter than me.

“Yep.” Cade taps my arm. “Come over here, and I’ll get you a drink.” He leads me to a bar along the back wall, and a gorgeous chick in a bra and tiny skirt offers a big smile. “Well, well, well. Fresh cock. Who is this?”

“Piss off, Felicity. Get Dustin a scotch,” Cade spits.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.” The devilish grin makes her eyes twinkle with mischief. “I can do much more for your friend than simply getting him a drink.”

“Scotch is good,” I tell her. I close my eyes momentarily, the voice of reason becoming louder in my head. The room spins and my eyes flash open. I take a step back when a brunette is only inches from my face. I’m trapped in a haze of gold, her eyes captivating me like no other. Eyes the colour of the scotch I love so damn hard. She lowers her gaze and runs a finger along my forearm, over the tattooed words where I wanted to slit my wrists when I was in my teens. Words to remind me to keep going and not fall into