Sancte Diaboli: Part One (The Elite Kings Club Book 6)

by Amo Jones

  Tillie giggles. “I have heard stories about him. You know, from the two girls I know he has been with, but I never thought they were true. I always thought they were exaggerating, because really? Is that even… clean?”

  Other girls that he has been with. The words cling to me like a bad smell, and no amount of Tom Ford can mask it. As though a storm comes in over a sunny day, my mood instantly shifts.

  “What’s happening tonight?” I ask, in hopes to distract myself. I think I might have an underlying anger problem. Maybe. I’m not sure.

  Tillie rubs shampoo into my scalp and I close my eyes as a cotton candy scent fills my nostrils. “Something not good. The Kings have been up to something behind the scenes, something big, and Nate is doing everything to leave me out of it.”

  “Why would he leave you out of it?” I ask, confused. “He always seems to want to include you in everything.”

  “Mmmm, that was before I got pregnant. Now, since we lost Micaela, he’s been over-the-top. He will not tell me anything that he thinks will stress me.”

  “Will you tell me about her one day? Micaela?” I ask gently, scrubbing my arm with a loofah. She has never mentioned Micaela before, but I had heard Brantley talk about the child they lost, though I don’t know the details.

  “One day,” Tillie promises. “Just not right now.”

  I continue to wash while changing the subject. “And you think they’re doing something tonight?” I ask, rinsing my hair out. Tillie moves across the room to grab a towel and stretches it wide. I stand, wrap it around my body and reach into the bath to drain the water.

  “Yes. I don’t know what. The caterers and designers are already setting everything up down there.”

  I tuck my towel between my breasts and swipe the fog off the mirror, reaching for my toothbrush in my makeup pouch. The more I learn about The Elite Kings, the scarier they sound. I scrub my teeth and put my brush back, turning to face her. “Do we have any other siblings?”

  Tillie’s face turns pale. “None worth mentioning.”

  I threw on skinny jeans, a white knitted cardi that rides around my belly, and thigh-high black boots. Tillie left to go find Nate, so I spent the rest of the time cleaning up the sheets, changing them, and getting ready for the day. I kept my makeup minimal because I know I’ll be going all out tonight, settling on no foundation and just a brush of mascara. Picking up my phone, I see a new text message. It must have been the message I got last night.

  ?: I’ll be the one in black.

  I fire off a text back.

  Saint: Are you going to tell me who this is?

  Seconds pass until another comes through.

  ?: Isn’t it more fun this way?

  Saint: Fun for whom?

  ?: … all for you.

  I leave it. Opening up Instagram and checking my feed, I follow back Bishop, Tillie, and Eli, ignoring the fact Brantley hasn’t followed me yet even though he knows I’m on here. Which while we’re here…. my fingers move to the search bar before I can stop myself and I type in his name.

  @brantleyvitiosis

  2.2M Followers Following 10

  2,378 posts

  I sink into the mattress, clicking on his most recent photo. It’s Kore and Hades, sitting on the edge of my bed. He must have taken it while he was in my room. No caption. Move to the next photo. It’s him, Nate, Bishop, Eli, and Cash. They’re all shirtless, with Eli doing a backflip in the middle, snapped just in time. I scroll past the next photos—no girls—and find myself on one that looks to be taken in an ancient building. There’s artwork in gold, brown, and pastels painted over the walls and ceiling. I’m entranced in the extravagant art that’s delicately brushed over the inside of this room. An angel, reaching for the heavens, but a god refusing to take him back.

  No caption.

  I instantly pull up Safari on my phone, and type in the images on the photo. Italy, Rome, Paris. All places in Europe. I click on Roman architecture and my heart stops.

  He was in Rome? Why…

  The style is almost identical.

  Pushing my phone back into my pocket, I make my way out of the room and down the hall to the stairs. I haven’t seen Brantley all morning, and I’m beginning to think it’s on purpose. Once I hit the kitchen, Bailey, her friend, and Tillie are at the table talking.

  “Hey!” Bailey’s blue eyes light up when they land on me. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to chat last night. I’m Bailey Vitiosis.”

  I pull out the chair beside Tillie. “I didn’t know Brantley had any family. Nice to meet you.”

  She flicks her wrist. “Well, he has my mom, who is technically not his relation. She was married to my dad who was Lucan’s first cousin.”

  “And then Bailey was a Swan, so she was caged up and—”

  Bailey glares at Tillie.

  “What, bitch?” Tillie raises a brow. “Don’t hide your past.”

  Bailey’s friend rubs her temples. “I drank way too much last night.” She ignores her friend as her eyes fall to my neck. “Ah, so it’s like that, that, between you two?”

  My hand is on the bite mark protectively. “No?” I don’t know what to say and I really wish she would stop prying. I’m comfortable with Bishop and Tillie when discussing private details about Brantley, not his cousin.

  I watch as men carry heavy items from the driveway to the back of the house, where a white tent is already set up.

  “Did I just see a chandelier?” I ask, looking back at Tillie.

  “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised. The Fathers are coming tonight, too, so they will go all out.”

  Bailey and her friend disappear upstairs, and in the back of my mind, I know I’ve been rude to her, but I don’t mean to. I just don’t know her.

  “Where are they all?” I ask, stealing a piece of Tillie’s toast.

  She pushes her plate away. “Hector wanted to talk with them.”

  I clear my throat, candidly shrugging. “Have you given my number out to anyone?”

  She brushes me off, shaking her head. “No. Why?”

  I smile. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” I continue chewing the crispy bread, swallowing and deciding I’ve had enough after three bites. My stomach rumbles with hunger, but my appetite is suppressed from anxiety. I haven’t spoken to Brantley since last night and someone is texting me who I don’t know, who will also be here tonight. Chills snap over my spine, spreading over my lower back and raising goosebumps over my skin until I shiver.

  “You look cute in that outfit.” Tillie waves up and down my body with half a pancake.

  “Shit.” I stand from my chair. “Be right back.” I take my phone out of my pocket while turning a corner outside on the patio. I drop down onto a swing seat, scrolling over Madison’s name. It’s safe here because I can see when cars come down the driveway. I hit dial and hold my breath.

  I was running again. Ran so fast. This time the cocaine was out of my system and the alcohol had long since burned into sweat. I ran through the forest, jumping logs and dodging trees. I needed to get out of here. Run. Away. My shoes were slipping off my feet, my shirt torn with blood soaked into the material, but all I wanted to do was run.

  I screamed when someone jumped from the tree branch in front of me, his white skull makeup clear against the full moon. “Blessed be the EKC.”

  Bang! A shot rang out.

  Brantley

  There are a lot of things that people know, or assume they know about The Elite Kings, and then there are the things that truly never leave the covenant. Things like Hector having enough power to initiate the damn Purge if he wanted. He doesn’t, but he has come close. Many fucking times. When he’s trigger-happy, we need to clean house and make sure he doesn’t. Which is ironic because it’s the exact reason why he hasn’t handed the gavel over to Bishop yet, because he thinks Bishop is volatile. Which he is.

  I kick my leg up against the conference table. The fucking third meeting he has called in the past three days.
r />   “These people are dangerous. I’ve never said that before, but these ones are.”

  “What makes them so dangerous?” I challenge, clenching my jaw.

  I’ve known that Hector was her dad since the second she came into my house. The anger I feel inside of me is aimed at him for abandoning her. In hindsight, I get it. At the time, no Swans could exist. But now, he still hasn’t asked me about her, and that pisses me right the fuck off. I slam down any and all thoughts about Saint because the mere mention of her has my fingers flexing and my teeth throbbing to sink back into her soft flesh. Fuck. My cock swells against the zipper of my jeans and I shuffle, turning to the side to get comfortable. She took it better than I would have ever imagined. Not just the sex, but the blood play. I had every intention of not fucking her again, but now she has my interest. As if she fucking lost it all those years ago. I’m invested in her now on a sexual level, though. I won’t lie, there have been times where I’d think about those innocent fucking eyes looking up at me with my fist around my cock, but they never left my fantasy. Never. There was another time when I was balls deep in a woman three times my age, fucking her over her husband’s workbench in their garage when I thought about Saint’s little body beneath me, too. Then I felt even more like a fucking creeper for thinking that, and carried on pounding into Mrs. fucking Robinson.

  “The fact that they are our oldest allies. They’ve studied how we work, what we do. We can’t underestimate them.”

  “Maybe,” Nate says, adding in. “But they don’t have what we have, and that’s money and power.”

  “Sometimes you don’t need those two things to get what you need done.” Hector’s eyes come to mine. “Sometimes all you need is the burn to destroy something.”

  “That bad, huh?” Eli asks, lighting a cigarette and blowing out smoke. We arrived at the EKC headquarters this morning, which is around a two-hour drive from the cabin. It’s right smack in the middle of New York City. Bishop has been living in the penthouse since Madison left. The King Hotel. Just one of the many real estate dippings we all have. I prefer mine in Europe.

  “And how is Perdita?” I ask the question that no one seems to care about. Especially Nate.

  Raguel, Eli’s dad, rests his elbows on his knees, where he’s seated on the ledge of the window. “It’s fine. The Peacemaker is doing his stage job and the little Adamantem seems to be natural with leading, though she’s becoming a little distracted. They’ve had a few run-ins with a couple of The Lost Boys who are not warming up to her particular style of sovereignty, but I’m sure it will work out.”

  “Good,” I say, bringing my eyes to Hector. “I don’t want to put another Stuprum on that island, if you feel me.”

  Hector’s eyes bore into mine. I read the questions I know he wants to ask. “She’s a Hayes before she’s a Vitiosis or a Stuprum.”

  “Eh, wrong,” I say, stretching my leg out in front of me. Bishop kicks my foot in an attempt to shut me up, but it doesn’t work. “She’s a Vitiosis before she’s anything else.”

  “A Hayes by blood,” Hector adds, and I can’t help it.

  The corner of my mouth curves, flashing my straight teeth. “Sure about that?” He won’t catch my meaning because he doesn’t know me, but I don’t give a fuck.

  “You fucked her?” Bishop jumps up from his chair, but my eyes are still on Hector. Bishop, on the other hand, knows me. “Fucker!” Bishop kicks my leg, and I finally release the hold I have on Hector and bring them to my annoying best friend.

  “What gave it away…”

  Nate chuckles. “Oh fuck…”

  Raguel sighs.

  I smirk up at Bishop. “B, I got your back, but if you don’t back the fuck up from Saint, then we’re going to have problems. You are in her life because I allowed it. She has been under my protection since she was two years old. I ain’t gonna hurt her. I will kill a motherfucker who comes near her first.”

  Bishop leans down, his hands on either side of my chair and his snarl so far deep on his mouth that if I wasn’t me, I’d probably be shaking in my boots. Most men would piss their pants at how he’s glaring at me, but I remain passive. Not-fucking-bothered.

  I flick my tongue at him. “Wanna kiss me? That why you’re so close?”

  Bishop’s jaw clenches, and I’m distracted when I notice his eyes sunken around the edges. It snaps me back to the present, bringing my mind back to an even level. He’s always on edge for a reason, and it ain’t my job as a best friend to make more issues for him, and aside from that, I am glad he has taken to Saint the way he has. This way we can share the load. Distribute it evenly.

  “Fuck.” I shake my head, rubbing my eyes with the backs of my hands. “Go sit down, B.” His head hangs between his shoulders in defeat, before he pushes away and falls back onto his chair, but not before swiping the bottle of whiskey on the office table and flicking off the lid. He brings it to his mouth, and I watch as every single person in the room glares at him with worried eyes.

  I reach over and confiscate the bottle out of his grip, just to save the lecture from Hector. “Why did you call this meeting?”

  Hector leans back in his chair, shaking his head at his son. “I know you’re all busy tonight and I personally can’t wait to see what you have planned, but you need to go track for a couple hours. I have two—” Hector pauses, his eyes back on Bishop. “Son, I need your full attention.”

  Bishop waves his hand. “You got it. I know my priorities. So a couple people might die through my transition, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Jesus fuck. Someone call Madison already…” Hunter grumbles under his breath. I think we’re all glad Bishop doesn’t hear.

  Hector continues. “I need you on track.”

  “I just ran one a few nights ago. Again?” I say, though my attention never wavers from Bishop.

  Hector nods. “Two gangs aren’t playing house. You need to reinforce the rules that were put in place with their leaders. I’ve set up a meet and will send you the address. They will be armed, and no doubt they’ll be angry. Just be careful.”

  “Always am,” I murmur. I tilt my head at Nate. “Ready?”

  Nate smirks at me. “Let’s. Make it. Rain.”

  He was older than me. Maybe by five years. He sat at the edge of the bed, naked. His shoulders rose and fell with each breath. His hair was long, tied to the nape of his neck. Maybe he was even older than that. I didn’t understand why he was here. There was never anyone far from my age. I had to think of Saint. I had to keep her safe. I would do what I had to do.

  “Your father sent me,” was all he said, and I knew right then and there he may have been even older. He turned his head over his shoulder, and I got the first look at his profile. His brows were blond, his beard too. Early twenties, maybe? A fucking lot older than I initially thought he was.

  I didn’t speak. I never did on these nights. Would prefer Silver back than this dude. What was he even doing here?

  He turned his body around to face me, standing to his full height. His cock was hard, which was fucking weird. His pubic hair thick and blond, just like the color of his beard, but there were dark dried spots on his skin.

  I gulped.

  He gripped his cock. “Anything I say goes, and I say.” He pumps himself. Anger stirred inside of me as my eyes slammed closed. No. No fucking way am I doing this. Hard fucking limit.

  “No. Fuck no,” I yelled, my eyes popping open. He was closer now, close enough to see the outline of all of his muscles.

  “You don’t have a say.” His hand was on my head, pushing me to the mattress as his body crawled up mine. He spread my legs wide, holding me down with so much force I vowed that I would never be weak again.

  I fucking hated Lucan Vitiosis. I would kill him one day. That was a goddamn promise.

  Nate’s Lambo was rolling behind me as I dropped it into second gear and pressed my foot down on the pedal. Smirking up at the rearview mirror, he flips me off outside his window and floors
it right up my ass. I can hear his fucking laughter from here. His name flashes over my phone and I hit answer, his cocky fucking voice coming through the speakers.

  “This will be our last run together since I’m going to be playing headmaster.”

  “You say that like I don’t do more without you with me…” I swerve into the second lane, ignoring the honking of horns. It’s fucking New York. Get the fuck in line if you want to honk at me.

  Nate laughs. “Fair point.”

  “And besides that, you were never meant to do this with me. This is a Vitiosis job, not a Malum job.”

  “Ahhh, fuck, man. I don’t want to be running that fucking school.”

  I pause, tapping my finger over my lip while resting at a normal speed. “Then don’t. Fucking hire someone to do it and hang behind the scenes. You know you don’t have to be front line. None of your ancestors did.”

  Nate goes silent for a second before finally saying. “Can’t do that. My kid will be going to that school, and if you and Bishop and Eli and the rest of you fucks hurry up, so will your kids. I think the reason why the generations have been let down in the past is because they didn’t have a King in the system with them.”

  “Could be. By the way, fuck you. I’m not having no kids.”

  “Oh, so you pulled out last night, huh?”

  My mouth slams closed. “Fuck off.”

  “Was she into it?”

  I know what he’s asking.

  “A little bit.” I pass unfamiliar buildings as I take another look at the GPS, showing that we’re about two miles away from our destination.

  “Really?” He sounds surprised. I’m not. “Fuck. Wouldn’t have pegged her for it.”

  I roll into the underground parking garage, hanging up the phone call with Nate. It’s empty, not a single car in sight. Ripping up the emergency brake, I whip my steering wheel around until the ass end of my car swings around before finally idling in the center. Nate stares at me from his car. My phone rings and I hit the green phone button on my steering wheel, answering Nate’s call.