by Amo Jones
“Then don’t lie to me.”
He seems to ponder my words until we’ve sat for another fifteen minutes in pure silence. The only sound is coming from the rustling trees, and very faintly, the soft crashing of waves in the near distance.
He lights a smoke. “Have you spoken much to Daemon?” He tosses the pack onto the table in front of us.
“No?” I reach for the pack, suddenly itching for something a little extra to take the edge off. “Well, not as much as I would have liked. Not yet. I will. He seems more distant and stranger than usual.”
Brantley snatches the packet from me, glaring and tossing it back onto the table. “That’s expected. After everything he’s been through. I’m surprised there’s anything left of him at all upstairs….” He bites out the end of his sentence, which again catches my attention.
“What do you mean?”
He doesn’t answer, and I catch the way he licks his lower lip with his tongue against the moonlight. Brantley has surprised me most when it comes to The Kings. He’s the one I thought I’d least have a connection with. I thought maybe Eli, the jokester, or Hunter, the up-and-coming dark and moody rock star. Or even Bishop, or Cash, or Ace. Any of them but Brantley. The connection we have is something that I will feel until the day I die. It’s easy without being boring. Like a shadow, I always know he’s there.
“He’s not the same as he used to be, Tillie. Just be wary of the way you are around him. He’s not the same boy you knew.”
I figured as much, from what I’ve seen so far but the fact that Brantley has confirmed it only intensifies my feelings.
“Okay. I will. Thank you. One more question… is Nate going to let me go?”
Brantley’s eyes go over my shoulder. “Maybe you should ask him.” He starts to stand, moving closer to me and wraps his fingers around my chin, tilting my face up to his. “One day, when this asshole isn’t lurking around you like a hungry lion protecting his prey, I’m going to play some games with you.”
I bite my lower lip, my cheeks igniting in flames at his words. My thighs clench together as his grip tightens around my chin, his thumb pressing against my lower lip.
“The kind where there are only two players until it’s Game Over.”
He leans down and presses his lips to my head. “Night, Princessa…”
I’m still shocked by what just happened, but when he’s walking away, I quickly compose myself and yell back, “Night Bran Bran!”
The whiskey isn’t helping much, so I look down at the table and see Brantley’s left his pack of smokes. I snatch up the packet and take one out, inhaling deeply. The thick nicotine sets in my lungs before I exhale. It’s been a long day, and when I step back to evaluate everything that’s going on in my life right now, it still doesn’t make much sense.
“Bad habit,” Nate interrupts from behind me. I forgot he was there.
I don’t look back. “So it seems. Just add it to my list of the others.” I bring my eyes to his as he rounds the table. I suck in the smoke and curl my lips in an O to puff out perfect smoke rings. “Bad habits.”
He pins me with a stare, not answering. He looks good, but then, he always does. No one has said anything about Nate Riverside-Malum’s appearance. Because they can’t. It’s what he hides beneath the pretty smile that people should talk about.
“When are you taking me back to civilization?” I ask, flicking the ash off my smoke and picking up my glass of whiskey. The liquid is doing what is intended, my head spinning in a Ferris wheel of confusion.
“Do you want to go back to go back? Or do you want to go back to be away from me?” he asks, and I don’t have to be able to see his face to know that one eyebrow would be cocked and a slight smirk would be on his lips.
I ignore him, not ready to admit how it feels to be here. Away from reminders of—my life before. Not ready to admit that his danger dances around me, teasing me to come play. Until I get lost in the maze that constructs their world. Their beautiful, fucked up world.
His shadow moves closer to me and the chair scrapes against the concrete as he takes a seat.
He’s so close. Close enough I can almost hear his thoughts.
“Tillie.”
I ignore him.
“Look at me.”
“Fuck you.”
Silence. He brings his hands to both sides of my chair and pulls me closer to him. I still don’t look. He wraps his fingers around my chin and forces my attention on him. I clench my jaw.
He’s wearing a dark hoodie and jeans. I can see his eyes peering at me from underneath, and even more so, the gloss of his high cheekbones.
“I meant after Micaela died. Not before. Everything after was planned.”
I bring my smoke to my mouth and suck, inhaling. I blow out in his face, because I know how much he hates cigarette smoke. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
He snatches the smoke from between my fingers and squashes it with his bare hand. “It’s supposed to make you fucking realize that I’m not a goddam monster, Tillie. My shit has purpose. Real fucking purpose.”
“You’re not a monster?” I ask, tilting my head while softening my voice.
“No, I’m not. I can be, yes, but like I’ve always said, I’ve never shown that fucking side of me to you.”
“That’s funny…” I mutter, bringing my face close to his. Close enough for the tips of our noses to touch. “Because your demons whispered all your secrets into my ear the day you dragged me through your hell, and let me tell you something, you are a monster, Nate. And a liar.”
His mouth slams shut.
I stand, shoving his hands off me. “And your words mean nothing to me, Nate. In the morning, I’m going to find your father, and I’m getting to the bottom of whatever the fuck is going on here.”
I start walking back toward the house when his words stop me. “You’ll trust him before you’d trust me?”
My body stills as my feet mount the cement steps and guilt threatens to take hold of all my self-restraint. I can’t let him win. I can’t. He has to pay for his actions, even if it means I risk losing him forever.
“Yes,” I lie, walking back up the stairs.
“Then you’re not as smart as we all thought.”
Tillie
I woke this morning with a whiskey hangover from Hades. Whole head throbbing, mouth frothing, hunger panging type shit, but after quickly washing in the shower and dressing into Khales’, or Katsia’s clothes, I feel a little more like a human and less like the asshole of one. Who knew they both had similar taste. I settled for Khales’ because fuck her. So I found myself in tight little leather shorts that covered just enough of my ass cheeks and a skate shirt that was torn in odd places. I matched the shorts with black thigh high-boots and a leather jacket, and I was good to go. Not really, because this style was not me by any sense, but it wasn’t like I had many options.
“Tell me about yourself…” I mutter as Abel and I walk down the main street of Perdita. I couldn’t find Daemon this morning and couldn’t risk bumping into any of The Kings and having them stop me from my plan today, so I snatched Abel on his way out of the shower and we left. I let him put some clothes on, although after seeing him half-naked, I sort of wished I didn’t.
“Not much to tell.”
“For some reason,” I start, looking down each alleyway of the main street of Perdita. “I think you’re lying.”
He chuckles. “I’m a lot of fucked up things, but a liar isn’t one of them.”
“Yeah, sure, that’s what they all say.”
“I’m not them.”
His words are simple, yet his tone tells me he’s implying The Kings.
I stop, turning to face him. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t feel right. I don’t like judgment in any case, but even more so from a boy who doesn’t understand how this world works. “And what do you mean by that?”
He searches my eyes, and I actually feel myself start to burn up, his beauty is t
hat toxic. Like Medusa, you don’t want to look directly into his eyes. He doesn’t flinch, and it’s scary.
“I kill for less.”
I believe him. “I want to know your story one day.”
He snorts. “I’m not here to give you what you want, Princessa.”
“Well, you’re like your brother in that sense.”
“In what sense?”
“You’re both assholes.”
He chortles. “I’m nothing like him.”
I point to the chocolate store. “That’s why we’re here.”
“We’re here because of chocolate?” Abel asks, stopping in his tracks as I start heading toward the storefront.
“I’ve heard about their Ruby chocolate. We will make a quick dash, and then go and find daddy Gabe.”
We’re making our way back to the mansion when Abel asks around a mouth full of chocolate, “Why don’t you trust them?”
“Because they’re bad people,” I answer instantly, not having to think too much about my answer because it’s truth.
“Are they bad people, or are they just always given bad choices?” Abel asks, and his annoyingly intelligent brain irks me.
“You’re too hot to be that smart.”
The guard lets me in, his head bowed. A small sense of power comes with that, but it’s power that I’m not interested in dabbling in. I didn’t earn it. I don’t want it.
We enter the main lobby, shutting the heavy wooden doors behind me.
“Tillie!” I hear Nate yell out from the kitchen.
I roll my eyes.
Abel smirks.
We make our way toward the annoying voice, entering the kitchen, I see all of The Kings seated at the table, including Nate’s dad, Gabriel.
I take a step forward, but he shakes his head. I see the worry etched into his features. The way his eyebrows furrow over his dark eyes.
I pause, straightening. “What’s going on?”
Nate
I can count on one hand how many times I have been shackled by a woman. Rendered fucking speechless and brought to my damn knees by a simple blink of her eye. Three times. Twice was Tillie, and the other was Micaela.
Even with her standing there, at my disposal, glaring at me like she hates sharing the same air as me, my dick is rock hard, swollen against the zipper in my pants.
“Are you talking?” she asks, placing her hands on her hips.
I smirk. Because it’s fucking cute that she does shit to try to make herself appear stronger than she feels. Not saying she’s not, she’s definitely the most glued together girl we’ve ever had around. She’s level-headed, smart, fucking sassy, and she can hold her own. She doesn’t do drugs, (usually), and doesn’t give a fuck if anyone else is doing it. She hardly drinks and doesn’t sleep around. How’d I manage to fuck all of that up epically in the span of a few months? Right. Because I’m me.
“Yeah, babe, take a seat.” The smirk stays, biting down on the toothpick in my mouth.
She glares with force this time.
I laugh. “Easy tiger, take a seat so we can talk.”
She crosses her arms. A step up from them being on her hips. My eyes drop, my smile deepening when they land on her arms, but then they go lower, and I’m smack bang face to face with her sexy as sin legs. My smile instantly drops, and I shuffle in my seat to readjust myself.
“Are you going to be honest with me?”
“Yes,” I answer instantly, because I’ll always be honest with her, with the exception of what I think she needs to know.
She slowly lowers herself onto the chair. “Talk. Why the fuck did you kidnap me and bring me here?”
“First of all.” I lean forward, blazing my joint. “We didn’t bring you here. You walked your little ass right up to this house all on your own. Second of all.” I blow out a thick cloud of smoke, her beautiful fucking face still glaring at me through the smoke. “I wasn’t lying when I told you that it was planned to get you here.”
She waves the smoke away. “And why is that?”
Bishop’s phone goes off and he quickly leaves the room, answering it as he slides the glass door closed. I falter a little, wanting to ask him what the fuck is going on with his phone and who he has been talking with for the past day. Task at hand.
“Because we needed to take you away from civilization for a while.”
“Why? What’s happening? And you couldn’t just tell me? You had to be dramatic and lock me in a fucking cell!”
She’s angry now. Good. She’s always cute, but when she’s angry, there’s something inside of me that recognizes her fire and wants to build an inferno with her. The only problem is that those closest to us get burned. She holds all of the cards when it comes to me. But my poker face is too good, so she just doesn’t know it yet. Connection is rare, I fucking know this. As much as there’s still so much that she doesn’t know yet, I have every intention to keep her safe. How I go about that, though, is completely up to me. Those are the cards that I’m dealing and that’s the hand I’ll be playing.
I stare at her, lick my lip and smirk. “Because I was bored.”
She doesn’t bite, and just as her mouth opens, Bishop is back inside, slamming the door closed with force.
“Bitch.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Who you calling bitch?”
He yanks out his chair and rakes his hands through his hair. “Don’t fucking start with me, Nate.”
I find Brantley, who is already watching me carefully. Something deeper is going on between the two of them, and we all know it’s only going to get worse when Madison finds out about the Daemon shit. Did I know about it? No. For generations now, the Hayes name has been feared amongst the Elite, the mundane, and anyone and everyone who even knew a smidge about our life, but that’s about to change, because Bishop has let some humanity sneak through. He’s not as vicious or cold-hearted as his father, and trust me, that’s a very fucking good thing, but more than that, we come first with him, not the throne. Which is why he battles with a lot of his decisions. I can see him struggling. I haven’t seen him in such a bad place since before Madison walked into his life.
“Carry on.” Tillie pulls my attention away from my inner thoughts.
“Until we tie up a loose end with something, your ass needs to stay here, and that’s all there is to it.”
Her eyes whip to my dad, who is sitting on the other side of the table. “So you were in on getting me here too?”
“No,” I interrupt, grinning from ear to ear. “Gabriel is something else entirely.”
“But this doesn’t make sense to me. You bring me here—” She pauses, her eyes glazing over as they go over my shoulder.
My blood turns cold, my jaw tensing. Having this fucker hanging around isn’t ideal, considering he and Tillie’s connection. I’m not a fucking idiot. I saw what they had. It makes me want to rip the flesh from his face and feed it to her. Instantly, hate and anger bubbles to the surface, threatening to spill over the edges.
Tillie turns, and I watch as her shoulders visibly relax. “Oh, hey.”
Bishop’s eyes come straight to me. He’s trying to reassure me. Settle me down. It isn’t working.
My lip curls into a snarl and I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but Brantley’s foot connects with my leg under the table, breaking the trance that had me seeing red with the Kill Bill theme song playing on loud.
I look at Brantley, who shakes his head at me.
Exhaling, I clench my fist a few times, cutting out whatever the fuck it is everyone is talking about, now lost in my rage. I need to calm down. I’ve never felt such fucking anger until I met Tillie. She’s the only one who can reach the string and tug on every single fucking emotion that is inside of me.
I hate it.
She’s a fucking weakness.
Push her away.
“I need you back on land,” I find myself blurting out, and Bishop kicks me now. I don’t give a shit. She’s my game, not his. He
ruined his game and now his key player is damaged beyond repair, for reasons I still don’t fucking know.
I bring my eyes to Tillie. “I need you back at the house. Until I say otherwise.”
She laughs, her little face tilting back as a sarcastic chuckle spills from those sexy fucking lips. “I don’t take orders from you, Nate.”
I push up from my chair, the scraping breaking through the silence. I start walking toward her slowly, not moving my attention from her. “Really?”
She doesn’t call my bluff. Any other chick would be afraid, maybe even cower. Madison always did. But not Tillie, and it fucking turns me on.
She smirks, leaning back in her chair and licking her lips. “Really.”
“Ah, not to be the asshole in the room,” Cash interferes. “But I’ll be the asshole in the room. You’re both insane.”
I lean down, both my hands landing on either side of her chair. “It’s cute.” I run the tip of my nose over hers, smirking while ignoring her scent.
“What’s cute?” Her eyes cross in briefly, her chest rising and falling slowly.
Click! I clasp a handcuff around her wrist, the other side around mine.
She gasps and then yanks on the handcuff.
I smirk, nipping her lower lip between my teeth before standing straight. “The fact that you think you have any power when it comes to me. Because just to be clear, princess, you don’t. Get up.” I yank her until she’s standing.
“I hate you.”
I roll my eyes, dragging her behind me until I’m back in my seat. She stands beside my chair awkwardly, the sight making me laugh a little.
“Shut up, Nate. I hate you.”
“Don’t have to like me to sit on my dick, princess.” Then I yank her down until her ass is pressing into my cock.
I groan, biting my lip while readjusting her position so she’s not right there.
She flicks her legs over so she’s sitting across my lap now, instead of directly on my cock. She moves again, smirking down at me. “You think you have the power, but last I checked, I’m the one with the pussy.”