C33 Testosterone contest
SYDNEY
The room was suffocating.
Not because of the antiseptic smell or the stiff hospital sheets or the fact that every breath stabbed at my ribs. No. It was because of the two men standing on either side of me, glaring daggers like they were about to turn my hospital ward into a gladiator arena.
Alaric stood rigid, fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight enough to crack stone. His eyes—those impossible stormy eyes—glittered with something I couldn’t name. Possessiveness? Fury? Or was I projecting what I wanted to see?
Andy, on the other hand, leaned casually against the rail of my bed, his smile soft but his words sharp enough to cut glass. His bouquet of lilies sat in a vase like an insult, mocking the tension between them.
Me? I was in the middle. Literally. And I hated every second of it.
“For God’s sake,” I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “If you two are going to fight, at least let me grab some popcorn first.”
Andy chuckled low, brushing his hand over the flowers. “She’s still witty, even after nearly being killed. That’s my Sydney.”
My Sydney.
I blinked. Heat crawled up my neck, but before I could respond, Alaric’s voice cut like a whip.
“She’s not yours.”
My eyes snapped to him. His tone was dark, possessive, absolute. Andy’s smirk widened like he’d been fishing for that exact response.
“Well, judging by what I walked in on,” Andy drawled, “it seems you’d like to stake your claim. Tell me, Alaric—does that usually involve hovering over half-conscious women in hospital beds?”
“Watch yourself,” Alaric growled, stepping forward.
“Boys!” I snapped, my voice cracking. They both turned to me, but I could see the unspoken battle raging in the silence.
---
Andy softened his tone, deliberately turning his back on Alaric as if to dismiss him entirely. “You don’t have to entertain him, Sydney. I came to see you. To make sure you’re okay. That’s all that matters.”
It was a small, tender gesture—one that should have made me feel safe. But the way he delivered it, so smooth and practiced, unsettled me.
Alaric, though, wasn’t buying it for a second. He moved closer to the bed, his presence overwhelming, his shadow swallowing Andy’s calm veneer.
“You’re awfully invested,” Alaric said coldly, his eyes narrowing. “For someone who’s known her what—weeks?”
Andy tilted his head, lips twitching. “Some connections don’t require years to be meaningful. Isn’t that right, Sydney?”
Both pairs of eyes pinned me like knives. My mouth went dry.
“Uh…” I coughed, tugging at my blanket like it could shield me. “I think the painkillers are making me hallucinate, because I swear I just heard two grown men arguing over who gets to babysit me.”
Andy chuckled again, but there was an edge to it this time. Alaric didn’t laugh at all.
---
Then Andy dropped it. The line.
The one that made every hair on my arms stand.
“Besides,” he said smoothly, his gaze cutting to Alaric with deliberate precision, “we both know accidents happen. Some people are destined for tragedy, aren’t they?”
The words hit like a slap. My stomach flipped.
I glanced at Alaric, expecting confusion, but what I saw instead was—shock. His jaw locked, his eyes flashed, his whole body went tense.
“What did you just say?” Alaric’s voice was low, dangerous, lethal.
Andy’s smile never wavered. “Just an observation. Some souls attract darkness, no matter where they go.”
The way he said it… as if he knew something about Alaric that I didn't know.
My gaze bounced between them, trying to make sense of the cryptic exchange. But the air between them was crackling, charged with a hostility I didn’t understand.
Alaric stepped forward, closing the distance until only inches separated them. “Stay away from her.”
Andy tilted his head, unconcerned. “Funny. That sounded more like a plea than a command.”
---
“ENOUGH!” I shouted, my ribs screaming in protest. Both men froze, staring at me.
“I just woke up from a car accident,” I snapped, my voice shaking. “I’ve got stitches in my head, bruises all over, and the last thing I need is the two of you having a testosterone contest at my bedside.”
Andy softened immediately, raising his hands. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He shot a pointed glance at Alaric, as though silently adding unlike some people.
Alaric’s eyes stayed on me, unreadable. “I’ll give you space.”
For a second, I thought he might actually mean it. That he’d leave, that this war between them would settle.
But then he leaned closer to my ear, his voice low enough only I could hear.
“Don’t trust him.”
A shiver skated down my spine.
And then he was gone, striding out of the room without another word.
---
Andy sat back down, shaking his head like he was exasperated. “What a storm cloud of a man. How do you deal with him?”
I swallowed, forcing a laugh that felt weak. “I… don’t.”
But inside, my mind was a whirlwind.
Why had Andy’s words rattled Alaric so badly? Why did Alaric sound almost… desperate when he warned me? And why, despite everything, did I feel like I was caught between two shadows I couldn’t escape?
---
Later, when Andy finally left, I lay in the sterile dark of my hospital room, replaying the moment before the interruption—Alaric’s face inches from mine, his voice rough, his lips so close I could taste the tension.
And then Andy’s words echoing like a curse: Some souls attract darkness…
For the first time, I wondered if maybe—just maybe—I was in over my head.
---
