by Ella Miles
“I’m not going to let you kiss me. Not even you, Caius,” I say.
“Been there, done that, right?” His eyes twinkle for just a moment with the memory of our last kiss and him fucking me.
“Something like that.” I settle my racing heart, trying not to think about what we’ve already done together. I can’t let Vincent know whom I prefer or don’t. I need Caius and Beckett in this game as long as possible.
To protect me? Yes.
But also because I just need them. Both of them, for very different reasons.
“I understand where you and I stand. You want him, not me.”
My eyebrows raise. He’s not wrong. I want Beckett even though I should want Caius.
“You also hate him and want payback for that embarrassing little thing he made you do.”
“I wasn’t embarrassed.”
“I saw your flushed cheeks and wide eyes.”
I frown.
“Let me help you get payback. Make him jealous. Make him crazy.”
“That would be impossible since Beckett doesn’t care about me. He hates me. He thinks I’m responsible for Odette’s death, just like you do. I can’t trust either of you.”
“A bet then? You seem to like bets.”
He’s right. I do like bets. It makes me feel in control of uncontrollable situations. It’s why I have deals or bets with Vincent and Beckett.
“What are we betting? Because it seems like you are wasting an awful lot of your time talking and standing over there, when you should be over here trying to kiss me. It seems like you’re scared.”
“When I kiss you, if Beckett gets jealous, I win. You owe me anything I choose.”
I roll my eyes as he says anything, just like Beckett did the other night.
“And when I let you kiss me, and Beckett doesn’t get jealous, then I get anything I want.”
“Deal. Now, act like what I’m saying is turning you on.”
My mind immediately goes to Beckett, but I don’t let it. Instead, I think about that night in the VIP room. The night that I let four men fuck me at once.
I rake my teeth over my bottom lip and let my breathing slow. My heart races until my blood is boiling with need.
I want to look to see if Beckett is watching, but I don’t let myself.
Caius steps forward, and I let him. I relax my fists and remind myself not to throw a punch when his lips hit mine.
Then he kisses me.
At first, I don’t kiss him back. It takes everything in me just to let him kiss me. And then something changes, and I’m kissing him back. It’s sweet, nauseatingly sweet. But my toes curl, and a soft moan vibrates in my throat. It’s a nice kiss. If this was any other circumstance, I would drag him back to my apartment and fuck him senseless. I would date him and enjoy the wild ride. Maybe I’d even marry him someday.
But this isn’t that.
This is about my survival.
So I punch him hard with a roar of emotion. I catch his lip, and blood immediately spills.
I wait for Caius to try again. He doesn’t.
He walks away like he’s already gotten what he wanted from me.
It takes everything in me to not look at Beckett, to not see his reaction. I don’t know which reaction I want more from him—for him to not to be jealous and for me to win the bet or for him to be jealous and lose. If he’s jealous, then there’s hope he could be mine, even if only for one day.
Finally, I gather the courage to look.
Beckett is looking at me like he wants to kill someone. Me, probably. Caius, definitely.
Caius won.
But I’m about to win too.
Beckett’s name is finally called, and I’m desperate to get my victory. The vein on Beckett’s forehead is bulging, there’s a stain of blood on his hand, and there’s fury in his eyes as he storms toward the glass cage. It all confirms what I saw across the room before—Beckett was jealous as fuck.
Why?
And why is my heart doing that little pitter-patter thing?
He hates me.
I just want to manipulate him into one night of fucking to help him realize that he can move on from Odette. That he’s stronger than his loss.
Beckett steps into the box, never taking his brown eyes off of me.
The glass door shuts behind him. Just like Caius, he stands there wordlessly as time starts to tick. His hungry eyes devour me with his stare.
Inside, I shutter.
Outside, I’m solid as ice.
I won’t let him embarrass me.
I won’t let him win, not this time.
“You going to try to kiss me or just stand there?”
“No, I’m not going to try and kiss you.”
I blink, confused.
“Then, what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to help you realize something that I thought I made perfectly clear last night.”
“And what’s that?”
He doesn’t answer me. He steps forward. I try to step back, but there is nowhere for me to go.
The glass box is tiny, but it has never felt as suffocating as it does now with Beckett in here with me. He hasn’t tried to touch me. His breath is still far enough away that I can’t feel the heat. And still, my body tingles with tiny sparks of desire.
What is it about this guy that gets me instantly turned on and full of rage at the same time?
It doesn’t matter that I’m equal parts lust and hate. This is going to be fun either way.
I don’t let him move another inch toward me before I start throwing punches.
I know he’s going to dodge the first throw, but I’m surprised when he ducks the second completely as well. I don’t even graze the side of his cheek.
“You think you can hit me, Princess?”
“I don’t think; I know.”
I throw another punch, but again I miss as he glides effortlessly out of the way.
I don’t know how he moves so smoothly in such a small space. None of the other guys moved as gracefully.
I frown, the lines in my forehead deepening into a scowl as Beckett easily anticipates every one of my moves. Is it because we are so in tune with one another? Or is he just that much better at fighting than me? All he can do is avoid; he can’t touch me. And yet, he’s beating me.
“What’s wrong, Ri? I know you’ve been trained, but maybe you aren’t as skilled as you thought.”
I swing again. I miss.
He snickers. “I don’t even need to fight back in order to win; that’s how inexperienced you are. You can go against a punching bag all you want in a gym, but when it comes to real-life, you are woefully unprepared.”
I grind my teeth together. “I beat thirty other men. I’d say that’s pretty good—”
“Even if you can’t beat me?” His sparkling grin infuriates me.
I swing low, aiming for his gut and hoping that if I aim for the middle of him, I’ll have a better chance of hitting at least one part of him.
He moves as I do. I focus entirely on his stomach. I’m not going to miss this time.
My punch lands, not on his stomach, but right in the center of his chest, just over his heart.
His chest is hard, but I know it hits his broken heart of steel.
Before I can process that I actually hit him, his lips land on mine.
It sucks all the air from my lungs.
It steals all of my emotions.
It even stops my heart.
His kiss is the polar opposite of Caius’s kiss. While that kiss was slow, gentle, sweet, this kiss is fast, harsh, and controlling.
I can’t think.
I can’t make a sound.
All I feel is his lips, his tongue. He’s able to control every part of my body with just his lips. My heart flickers, my breathing stops, my blood circulates so fast that it feels like fire rushing through my veins.
I yield to him my thoughts, my soul, my heart. They’re all his.
I ne
ver want this kiss to stop. It pushes away my demons. It calms the anxiety, the fear, the pain. It all disappears because of him.
The slickness of his tongue manipulating mine shoots straight to my core, and I feel the wetness pooling between my legs. My nipples pebble beneath my shirt. It takes all of my willpower not to wrap my legs around his waist and let him carry me out of here.
Fight back. Don’t let him win.
That voice penetrates like a whisper in the wind, but it’s enough to remind me that I shouldn’t be letting Beckett kiss me. I shouldn’t let him win.
Just as I’m about to knee him in the balls, the kiss stops, and I’m standing in darkness. It takes me a second to realize that I closed my eyes during the kiss. When I open them, Beckett is gone.
But I get his message loud and clear as my breathing finally returns—he can control me. I’m his plaything. I’m his revenge. As soon as he gets the evidence he seeks, he’s going to destroy me.
Beckett is the last man to go, so as soon as the blood reenters my brain, I walk out. Adrian holds out his hand to me, and I take it, needing it to stay balanced after that wicked kiss. The blood is still slowly making its way north.
I continue to hold onto him for support as we walk over to where Vincent and his guard sit at a table nursing their drinks.
Vincent gives a curt nod to his guard. Blank stands up, pulls out his gun, and fires it straight into Jameson’s heart. He drops to the floor with a grin on his face. He didn’t even have time to react to what just happened.
There isn’t a sound, a protest, a reaction from the group around me. There isn’t one from me either. The boy didn’t deserve to die for his stupidity, but I don’t mourn the loss of any man who tried to win me so he could control me like a dog.
I spot Beckett out of the corner of my eye. Then, why did you enjoy his controlling kiss?
Because I’m fucked up, that’s why. And because behind his cruel exterior, deep down Beckett cares about those he loves. He just doesn’t love me. He can never love me.
“Now that that’s taken care of, let’s discuss who the winner is,” Vincent says like he didn’t just order his guard to kill a boy for picking a stupid game.
I wait for Vincent to ask me who was the best kisser, but he never looks at me.
“Caius made her scream the loudest; therefore, he’s the winner.”
I gasp.
I guess, technically, I did moan the loudest with Caius when I hit him, while I was silent with Beckett, too consumed to make a sound. It doesn’t really matter which one wins as long as Vincent doesn’t shoot them. But I’m surprised Vincent would pick anyone that he thought I enjoyed.
“Your reward is you get her until the next competition. Your job is to keep her safe, alive, and ensure she returns for the next game. Other than that, you can do what you want with her except for one thing—you’re forbidden from fucking her.”
9
Ri
The drive is awkward and silent, far too silent for my liking. I consider speaking many times, but I bite my tongue every time. What would I say?
I’m squished in the back of a two-door Maserati coupe, sitting sideways with my legs bent and my knees still digging into the back of Beckett’s seat as he speeds down the interstate. I realize we are leaving the city, not headed to either of their condos. We must be headed back to the cabin.
Caius closes his eyes in the passenger seat, somehow able to sleep despite Beckett’s reckless driving and the anger rolling off of Beckett. I can’t tell if his fury is directed at Caius, me, or both of us.
Beckett works his jaw; I can hear the cracking and popping of the veins in his throat. My guess is he’s upset with both of us.
Caius doesn’t seem phased, even if Beckett is his boss now.
I chew on my tongue until it bleeds. I just kicked thirty guys’ asses, but I can’t take the silence and glares from Beckett. That’s not true—he’s not glaring at me. He’s just blazing his fury out in all directions, and I’m too sensitive to not soak it all in.
“I—”
“I wouldn’t finish your sentence, Princess,” Beckett says. The way he says ‘princess’ is like a curse leaving his mouth.
So I shut up. I’m too exhausted to fight, even with him. But I can’t sleep like Caius.
As we get closer to the cabin, Beckett seems to settle, so I spit out the words I’ve wanted to say this entire trip. “If it was up to me, you would have won, Hero, not Caius. His kiss whispered to my heart; yours slashed through the darkness of my soul to claim me.”
“I always win, Princess. When will you stop doubting me? I didn’t care about winning the stupid game. My goal was simple—ensure you know who you belong to. Have you finally figured it out? Who do you belong to?”
“The Retribution Kings,” I answer.
“No, you don’t belong to them. You belong to me. You’re my retribution.”
Beckett slams on the breaks and gets out of the car without another word. I stare after him.
His.
Not the Retribution Kings’.
His.
What does that mean? Does he like me? Want me?
No, he just wants to make me pay for what he thinks is my role in his wife’s death.
“Caius, we’re here,” I say, pushing on the back of his seat.
He stirs slowly, then climbs out and moves his seat up so I can get out. He extends his hand to me—always the gentleman—and I take it. I hate having a guy help me, even with something so little, but I should get used to it. I need as much help as I can get.
I shiver when I climb out, and Caius immediately removes his tux jacket and places it over my shoulders. I’m only wearing my sparkly tank, black pants, and heels.
I take one step in my heels before Caius grabs my elbow, helping me walk the uneven terrain into the cabin. The second we reach the door, I kick my shoes off and shrug myself free from Caius. I almost wish that I hadn’t, that I was still connected to Caius, my defender. Maybe then the stares of all the guys wouldn’t flush my cheeks bright red.
In the last two meetings with these guys, I was getting fucked by them and then down on my knees, begging for Beckett’s cock, sucking his fingers instead in the middle of the woods.
The only one not looking at me is Beckett, who has grabbed the laptop off of Gage’s lap and is studying it carefully.
“So Caius is the best kisser, huh? I seem to remember you liking my kisses the best, Princess,” Lennox says with a wicked smirk.
He kissed me? I just thought he held me down when they all fucked me. He hates me. Why would he participate?
Hayes jumps up, and before I realize what he’s doing, he plants a quick kiss on my lips. “That’s just because I didn’t enter. If I had, she would have said I was the best kisser.” He winks at me, and my fists at my side loosen just a little. I consider punching him, but then I realize it’s just some leftover instinct from when I was in that box. I don’t actually want to punch Hayes. The kiss was nothing.
Gage stands up next, and his arms go around me before I realize what he’s doing. My arms dangle awkwardly at my sides as Gage holds me in a hug.
“Ignore them; I can’t believe you took down that many guys. You’re going to have to show me what you’ve got later,” Gage says, finally releasing me.
I still don’t know what to say. All I can think about is being naked in front of them. Of them fucking me. Of me down on my knees, sucking Beckett’s fingers like they were his cock. Are they going to expect me to fuck them again? It was hot, but—
“Don’t worry, Princess. We won’t fuck you. We won’t even touch you, not now that you’re forbidden,” Hayes says with a chuckle.
Lennox and Caius join him in laughter.
“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you guys. Everyone here is in danger. Vincent has a video of you all fucking me, and he’s not happy. If he finds out it was you guys, you’re all dead.”
“We knew the risk we took that night, and we would all d
o it again. You wanted control over your life; we helped you get it,” Caius says, stretching as he takes a seat on the couch.
I look over to Beckett.
“Don’t worry about me. I haven’t slept with you. I’m perfectly safe from Corsi’s wrath,” Beckett answers with a smirk without looking up from the laptop, like he knows it bothers me that we haven’t fucked and never will.
Suddenly, Beckett’s eyes widen. “Gage, Caius, come here.”
They both run behind the couch so they can stare at the same screen. Hayes heads back to the kitchen, and Lennox opens his own laptop on the couch. I’m left standing in the entryway, unsure what I’m supposed to do. Join them in the living room? Head to one of the bedrooms?
“Look where he is. He went straight to Corsi’s. Do you think Corsi had Nolan do it to keep his hands clean?” Beckett asks.
Caius’s face darkens. “He looked bored and disinterested like he knew he had this game in the bag and Corsi would put him through. Now we know why. There is definitely a connection there. We need to find out what.”
“I’ll start digging,” Lennox says.
Gage leans in. “Me too. We’ll know exactly who this guy is and what he does by tomorrow.”
Caius runs his hand through his hair, and then he heads upstairs without a word—an emotionless zombie just going through life.
The guys watch him walk off without speaking; everyone has concern in their eyes except for Lennox.
“I should go check on him,” Hayes says.
“No, you shouldn’t. He needs time. He just lost his sister. Don’t push him. I’ll let you know when you should push him,” Lennox says.
The room goes silent, and Lennox meets my gaze. I see it finally. The pain. The loss. He’s lost someone.
He cocks his head to the side as he studies me. His eyes narrow, and his lips part, trying to read my mind. I know he sees my own pain, my own loss, but he doesn’t say anything. He just goes back to his laptop.
But I see my opening, my chance to help and show Beckett I’m on his side, and he should be on mine.