by Elena Monroe
The static dancing on my skin made the small peach fuzz on my arms stand up on their ends, and I felt lost in the crackle of his apron against my jeans.
“I’m not a throne, Ari. I’m your goddamn king.” He muttered the words he knew I knew to be factual.
He was always going to be my king, not a demigod or leader of the circle or even the badass Bolton that was continuously angry. He was just my king.
Hearing him tell me what I knew meant he was still mine. I didn’t have any competition.
He only pulled away to yank the apron over his head, and he threw it towards the counter. “By the way, I quit.”
My features scrunched up in confusion at his declaration. He was quitting already? I just got back. I wasn’t trying to fall into the same stale routine we had before of fighting, working, sleeping, and doing it all over the next day. Guess that’s the never-ending job of a queen, sticking by her king when it gets hard, unpleasant, or even too much to bear.
Something I needed to learn if I was truly going to be Bolton’s queen.
No more running away, even from myself.
Luna
N yx wasn’t supposed to be here.
He didn’t blow off steam, celebrate birthdays, or even indulge in anything fun that didn’t involve one night stands or starting fights.
Tonight was about fun—plain and simple.
No drama.
No comparing the dark and light parts of me.
No looking at Nyx’s broody and moody attitude long enough to suck in my bottom lip and pray he didn’t take it as an invitation.
It had been weeks of his silence, like I was just anyone else and his words were too good for, even, me now.
My eyes were glued to his looming body awkwardly here. He pushed his unruly hair behind his ear, still staring me down, raking his eyes up and down me, while sitting on the edge of the oversized booth that was above the rest of the club.
Nyx was still Nyx, wearing a ripped band t-shirt and a blazer over it, with the arms rolled up, like that was the furthest he could take being presentable. His jeans are not super snug, but enough to fall over his manhood with bad intentions, outlining a front bump that made me swallow hard.
Caellum handed him a beer when my bravery finally showed up, and I said, “He wasn't invited, Caellum.”
“Plus one. You'll live.” Caellum didn't care what irritated other people as long as he got his way.
When I looked back at Nyx, his eyes were still scanning all of me, up and down, taking in every detail.
Dorian pushed past Nyx standing there, seemingly stuck, and he bent down to kiss my forehead while handing me a bunch of deep red roses.
“He was invited, so dial back the scowl…” His mere presence demanded the dark in me to come out and play.
It always listened.
Dorian sliced through the tension without any care to our tussle as he smiled and offered his hand towards Nyx, “Good to see you, man. Glad you could make it.”
Nyx looked down at his hand without acknowledgement. Instead, he pushed the beer bottle to his lips, ignoring Dorian altogether—a professional at closing out the world and making you feel invisible if you weren’t serving his greater scheme.
Standing up, I took my place next to Dorian, who still wasn't my boyfriend... yet. I pushed my leg towards the slit and watched Nyx’s eyebrow pop and lips turn up into a smirk, seeing my outfit in all its glory.
“Dorian, dance with me?” I clamped my hands around his bicep, feeling just how much he felt made of steel.
He was hiding a body I knew would make me drool under his plain button-up shirts and sweaters.
We had barely done much, except for accidentally touching when his hands would graze my arms, and his words put a spell on me. Dancing in close proximity might as well have been sex. Everything more than a touch felt erotic.
Finally breaking their gaze, Dorian smiled down at me, “Of course, you’re the birthday girl, beautiful.”
Pet names? We jumped from accidental touching to pet names. I didn’t mind it coming from him. There was a kind of heaven in his grey clear eyes, as I dragged Dorian past the hell called Nyx.
The dance floor was crowded, moving like a sea to the beats, all in sync. I held Dorian’s hand as the music changed to Meek Mills and Justin Timberlake’s “Believe” remixed to be slightly quicker. I backed up into him, letting my ass sway to the gospel.
I know we didn’t believe in anything but what we were taught: that the gods ruled all and crossing them was signing your own death certificate.
Something about this world was lonely on the soul, and music became a sanctuary for me, with no best friend around to lean into.
Instead I had headphones, and I worshipped every beat they produced. Every note filled my lonely soul.
Dorian’s stiff body loosened up slowly with the friction of my ass against his hips, legs, and crotch. I looked around the space to upstairs where our table was to see Nyx leaning over the railing watching my every move.
I wanted to feel bad.
I wanted to feel guilty.
I wanted to stop and run to apologize for making him feel anything bad.
The bad part of me leaned further into Dorian, lifting my arm up to reach back for his neck. His mouth stamped kisses all over my palm, like he was helping me pray to the music.
Nyx was holding his displeased look, and I kept using the friction to push him over the edge of reason.
This was a hard lesson for him to learn, but I couldn’t be his and reject the darkness seducing me.
Hopefully, this was all it would take to make Nyx forget me.
Hopefully, it was all I needed to do.
Scanning the people around us, I saw Arianna and Bolton swaying with her arms locked around his neck. I guess her coming back was just as needed for him too. He looked so entranced with her, holding her closer, and his lips attacked every patch of exposed skin.
They were oozing sexual tension, just like at Arcadia Prep. There wasn’t any escaping it; it gave you goosebumps, because you knew it was fate pulling them together, undeniable.
Fate had other plans for me—plans to make me question who I am to the point of even confusing myself in the process.
Plans to wedge me between two men—one heaven, one hell, both bent on owning me.
Dorian’s warm breath touched my ear: “All this friction is going to create a fire.”
His words plucked the innocence right to the surface, making my cheeks flare up in a blush. The insecurities took over, while I bit my lip.
Twisting around in his arms, I faced him, letting my arms drape over his broad shoulders, which were outlined in his white button-down. “I… I don’t have much—”
He cut me off pushing his finger to my lips gently. “You don’t have to say it. I know, Luna. You’re a good girl.” The way he said “good girl” started a fire inside the pit of my stomach.
He was dangling being good right in front of me, like bait, and it was all I wanted.
I pushed my lips against his finger, kissing his fingerprint and judging how far a good girl could go to ease the fire rushing over my limbs.
Letting my lips fall apart, I let my top lip close over his finger, and I sucked his finger into my mouth, between my lips.
I was his good girl, while toying with the bad I wanted to let disappear altogether. Being bad for him seemed okay, seemed different than the bad that Nyx ripped to my surface.
This wasn’t dangerous.
This was Dorian—the manager of the school for special needs kids. The man who brings donuts and bagels to work every Friday to show how much he appreciates his employees. The man who steals small touches, because he's a gentleman.
He wasn’t Nyx.
He wasn’t dangerous.
Sucking his finger with light pressure, my cheeks caved in, and letting my mouth pop off the end made my cheeks turn even hotter. I didn’t break eye contact with Dorian; I watched his frozen features take
in every kind of stolen touch of this moment.
“Maybe we should go somewhere more private?” His finger was quickly replaced with his thumb when he smoothed it over my swollen lips.
Nipping a kiss against his thumb, he clutched onto my arm and led me off the dance floor in search of privacy that I wasn’t sure existed by the looks of Bolton and Arianna’s intimacy.
Nyx
L una was playing the long game so well that I felt like she’d never actually be mine again.
She was wrapped all over Dorian on the dance floor, grinding her ass into his crotch and doing whatever that stunt was where she let his finger invade her mouth.
I didn’t even know which version of her was out of to play when both sides of her personality were playing dirty.
From the balcony where the table and booze were all located, I watched as Dorian pulled her off the dance floor.
“Little Miss Virgin deflowered on her birthday, how poetic.” Caellum appeared next to me with two fresh beers, handing me one in an effort to ease the harsh glare I was sporting.
“She's not a virgin. She’s had me in her hands and mouth.”
Caellum’s laugh was stifled out of his mouth as he tried to stop it when his hand landed on my shoulder. “Wait, you mean to tell me… you two? Damn, leaving Arcadia was a mistake. Look at all the shit I missed.”
“Not exactly. Everything but… that.”
“Don’t act shy now, Romeo.”
Bolton appeared on the other side of me, hearing the tail end and joining in to mock me along with him. “Romeo, huh? Must be talking about Luna. Well, she went that way with that guy. Might wanna start there.”
I knew what they were doing; they were antagonizing me to acting out.
I hated to admit they failed.
The real thing that worked? Having to watch Luna be free to be whoever she wanted with him, and I was stuck up here watching.
I pushed off the rail and headed down the stairs. She may not be under my protection or charms anymore, but she wasn’t losing her virginity in a dirty club with a guy I didn’t trust.
Anyone else? Sure.
I’m not a hard-ass or a traditionalist. She could throw her pussy wherever she wanted, except my enemy number one.
That’s where I was drawing the line.
Finding her became problematic as soon as I had to make my way through gyrating couples and strangers. It didn’t help that everything was dark, and the lights were like having an epileptic episode.
I made my way to the other side, some hallways and spaces filled with seating for when people finally got tired. Looking over my shoulder, their energy seemed unmatched.
The hallway I saw them go down was painted black, like most of the interior, and it was hard to see any real detail.
Pushing the first door open, I found a bunch of coats and jackets like a coat check closet, even though it was summer, and no one had use for any more fabric.
The second door was locked, and as soon as I twisted the handle, I knew that I was in the right place. An overwhelming sense of gratefulness washed over my shoulders, subduing the anger I was swimming in.
Thankful was better.
Thankfully, I was going to keep Dorian’s head attached to his body if I caught them, saw them.
That was the least I could do.
I stood carefully still, listening as I pressed my ear to the door, trying to block out the club music blaring.
I couldn’t hear much, except for the unmistakable sound of Luna gasping and whimpering. It was a sound I worshipped above all else. It was the sound of her freedom, no more calculating how good we needed to be to push down the bad we all had inside us.
Without thinking, my closed fist hit the door with one swift thud, and I added nonverbal communication to go with it.
I heard rustling, movement, and her heels against the floor as he shouted, “Be right out!”
I staked myself against the wall, next to the door, with my arms crossed, wearing the same disappointed yet broken scowl I had perfected for her.
I waited until the door swung open and watched Dorian pour out first, smoothing his hair back down where she had clearly played with his perfectly coiffed gray peppered hair.
Staying still in my emotions I was comfortable wearing or feeling, I waited for Luna to walk out. She smoothed her dress into place, making sure she was all covered, at least what little the dress covered to begin with.
“What’s your problem?” She didn’t even leave any awkward space. She was inches from my face, angrier than I had ever truly seen her.
She was playing with fire, so I gave her exactly what she deserved: my silence.
“You are incorrigible!” Her innocent features were all tight, and it was endearing to see her this angry. She was just missing the frothing at the mouth.
Dorian beckoned her to his side, probably still confused and wondering what the tension was between us. Before she completely slipped from my grasp, I closed my hand around her wrist. “She’ll catch up, lover boy.”
She fought my grasp with so much effort she only made it worse. “Now what, Nyx? Thought we were done playing games.”
Yanking her wrist, she came back to me like a boomerang, stumbling into me and pushing her hand against my chest to catch herself. “Relax yourself, Little Lamb. I don’t care what you do with your boss. I’m not a prude.”
Fishing the small box out of my jacket pocket, I let it fall from my hands, letting her catch it with a gasp and open hands. “Happy birthday, Little Lamb.”
I pushed off the wall. I wasn’t sticking around to see her open the small black box—shit might as well have held my heart inside, because no one was going to be Luna, not today, tomorrow, or five years from now.
No one held a candle to the girl straddling good and evil.
No one compared to how sweet and salty she could be.
No one ever made the mistake of loving me, sex and death, and now she was paying for it.
Walking along the perimeter of the dance floor, I scanned for the guys, finally finding them all draped along the railing on the second floor, as I saluted them in my own nonverbal goodbye.
I didn’t need to be here for whatever fallout Luna was going to feel: pissed I knew her better than anyone else or guilty for using Dorian as a pawn in our game.
The summer air was heavy but not hot; it was bearable. I found the alleyway, barely light—a perfect place to spark the end of my blunt.
Some people meditate; I toke up.
It works faster than staring at a candle and counting down from one hundred to feel some false sense of hope. The green bud wrapped in the dark brown paper was false hope enough.
The music was muffled, with only the bass escaping, as I inhaled against the bricks. Looking up at the moon and stars, I wanted to curse them for dying and leaving us here.
None of this would have happened if Arianna stayed put or if Zeus got off his lazy ass to find her himself.
I was too busy in my thoughts to notice anyone else around me, until I felt a hard fist collide with my ribs, folding me over like a cheap table.
Leaning over his shoulder as he held his fist against my ribs, I stilled.
I was blind-sided.
Who the fuck did I piss off now?
Pushing the body away from me, I watched him tumble from the excessive force I was no longer controlling.
This wasn’t Arcadia, and Bolton wasn’t king here.
I looked up, and the light grey eyes stared back at me.
Dorian.
Luna’s boss.
Luna’s… in general.
“What the actual fuck was that for?” I picked up my joint from the dirty concrete, brushing the end off and letting my teeth hold it in place, as I impatiently waited for his excuse.
“Consider it a warning. Stay away from Luna.”
“What gave you the impression I’m near her… ever?” I muttered, “dumbass” around the joint hanging from my lips under my bre
ath. I hadn’t so much as been in the same room with her since I cut ties.
Tonight was the first time, and Dorian was making sure it was unwelcoming.
He stepped towards me, grabbing onto my already ripped up shirt. What was one more rip.
“You don’t have to be near her to occupy her heart. This is your eviction notice. I suggest you don’t make me use force.”
Good old Dorian—the same guy my friends were having a hard time believing he had any viciousness in his bones.
Being right isn’t as glorious when no one is there to witness it.
Nyx
I wasn't doing what Dorian told me. I was doing what I already planned to do: keeping my distance.
I was also complaining every chance I got, silently and in my head, like I was killing myself over and over.
Work was a welcomed distraction from Dorian’s two-faced nature and Luna possibly not being a virgin anymore.
“I'm telling you. He came at me all unhinged.”
“I don't see it, man. He works with special needs kids…” Caellum’s voice was the same disbelieving tone it had been since I mentioned something being off with Dorian when I first met him.
“Yes… I Fight-Clubbed myself to prove how much I hate him.”
“Seriously, what the fuck happened to your face? How much did you drink?” He leaned over the counter to see the mess of bruises, as I held up the jersey uniform top I was forced to wear, showing him my ribs.
“I didn't drink anything but the two watered-down-beers you handed me. He's not who we think. She needs to be careful.”
I didn't let any emotional jealousy or anger seep through my words. This was an irritating alarm going off myself with no snooze option.
He popped an eyebrow, and his lips pursed as he pushed a hand through his blonde hair. “I need evidence. What did the guys say?”
“King Bolton? He's busy with his girlfriend being back. Jasper is working on it.”
Taking my phone out of my pocket I shot Jasper a text: You better have that info today.
The store phone rang almost immediately, interrupting our conversation when Caellum answered it. After he perfected, “Thank you for calling Nike on 1506 6th Avenue, this is Caellum… how can I help—”