Serpenti

by Brooke Sivendra

  When she kissed him back with a hunger that surprised him, a groan slipped from his throat. He remembered the pen.

  “I don’t know how sensitive that pen is,” Asher whispered. “But perhaps don’t say, or moan”—he smirked—“anything you don’t want Jesse to hear.”

  She wiggled her eyebrows and Asher chuckled.

  His hand cupped her ass and he drew her in. “Kiss me. Kiss me like you did a few seconds ago. That’s how I always want you to kiss me.”

  Her eyes heated and her lips parted.

  Asher closed his eyes, reveling in her kiss. His hand threaded through her hair, tugging her mouth closer. She moaned, and Asher didn’t care—it barely registered in his mind.

  So much was wrong in the world, but in Abi’s arms, he’d always felt like anything was possible.

  She shifted, and he put his hands on her hips, guiding her on top of him. He kissed her until he was breathless, and then kissed her harder. He ached for her, and he was well aware she could feel him against her hips. She rocked against him and he bit his lip. He stilled, needing to gain some control.

  “As much as I love this,” he said, forcing the words out in a rushed whisper, “I’m not sure how much control I have right now, and tonight is not the night. And if you do that again, I may lose this tiny piece of self-control I’m holding onto.”

  She gave a sultry smirk, then laid her head on the pillow beside him. The soft sigh that slipped from her lips was the most erotic sound he’d ever heard.

  Colonel Stevens

  The colonel held the handwritten letter in his hands. He’d been looking at it all night, and the envelope was addressed and ready.

  A letter to King Asher.

  A letter of everything he’d seen and felt that wasn’t right. A letter he wished he’d written for King Martin.

  He looked at the letter one last time, knowing there would be serious implications for the accusations he was making, but the easy thing and the right thing were rarely the same, and they certainly weren’t in this case. A poison had leaked into Santina, like carbon monoxide—deadly, yet silent—and while it might already be too late for Santina, King Asher had to know.

  Colonel Stevens folded the letter and placed it in the envelope. His life would change once this letter was delivered, and though he didn’t know if it would change for the better or worse, he at least knew he was doing the right thing. When he closed his eyes at night, he would be able to live with his decisions.

  He thought about King Martin as he sealed the envelope and placed it in his wife’s handbag with the mail to be posted tomorrow.

  Could Colonel Stevens have saved King Martin’s life if he’d spoken up sooner?

  He knew that was a question he would never be able to answer; he didn’t know if King Martin would’ve believed his suspicions even if he’d voiced them. Would he have believed that the Kingdom’s greatest threat came from one whom King Martin had trusted?

  The colonel sighed as he returned to his office and put his diary and pens away in his desk drawer.

  His eyes darted to the window when he heard the neighbor’s dog barking. The sensor light hadn’t been activated, and the colonel’s eyes snapped to the computer screen of security footage. He checked each field but he couldn’t see any motion.

  His ears strained to listen but the house was silent. His wife was asleep upstairs, and his children vacated the nest long ago.

  A muffled sound from the back of the house drew his attention. He grabbed his pistol from his desk drawer as his eyes scanned the security footage again. If someone was in his house, he should be able to see them. He’d upgraded his security system only six months ago, and it was the best he could buy.

  The colonel inched toward the closed door of his study and paused to listen. He heard nothing. He thought of his wife sleeping upstairs, and he inched the door open silently, carefully.

  He paused again. Not a sound. The dog had stopped barking.

  Maybe it was nothing.

  He wanted to believe that, but he didn’t. Something didn’t feel right.

  He checked the hallway, and when it was clear he darted toward the staircase, taking shelter beneath it as he scoped out the adjoining hallway.

  He heard the dog barking again, but his house was silent.

  The colonel raised his weapon and inched forward, moving toward the kitchen. Light from the neighbor’s outdoor security lights filtered through the kitchen windows.

  His eyes went to the door. It was closed, and the lock didn’t appear tampered with, but without fully inspecting it he couldn’t be sure. He looked down and saw a partial footprint.

  He stilled.

  His wife had washed the floors after dinner, and he hadn’t been outside since.

  He spun around, his weapon raised, his finger steady on the trigger. He inched back toward the staircase, fearing the intruder would think he was asleep upstairs where his wife was sleeping.

  He took one step toward the staircase when four figures emerged from the darkness. His finger pulled the trigger, but he didn’t get a chance to find out if he’d shot any of the intruders.

  His world went black.

  The colonel awoke to a hand connecting to the side of his face. His skin stung and his head throbbed, but that was the least of his concerns as he took in the nightmare he’d woken up in.

  Cold metal pressed against the back of his head, and he knew if he made one wrong move, the man holding the pistol to his head would pull the trigger.

  He quickly counted the men—four—and ascertained he hadn’t shot anyone. His eyes darted around the room he was being held in. White walls, stained gray carpet. He had no idea where he was, but he wasn’t in his home.

  A lamp in the corner provided the only light and the colonel noted the drab curtains covering the windows. He assumed it was still night and that he’d only been out for a few minutes, but he had no way of knowing that in this dungeon.

  He forced himself to think through the pain. It didn’t matter where he was; it only mattered that he escaped. That was his focus. He assessed the size of the men and in the limited light, counted the number of weapons he could see.

  “You’re wasting our time,” a low voice said from behind him. The man was a Santinian—the colonel was sure of it.

  The colonel didn’t respond. He knew the less he spoke the better. He shifted his wrists, not surprised to find they were bound together. He did the same with his feet, but his ankles were bound—likely to the legs of the chair he was sitting on.

  The man in front of him spoke. “You’re going to cooperate with us, Colonel, otherwise your wife will find her neck underneath my knife.”

  The colonel’s stomach churned violently. Had they taken her too? Or was she home in bed? Had his gun actually fired? He couldn’t remember.

  The man smirked as he watched the colonel trying to piece it all together. “You’ve been asking lots of questions, Colonel. Questions you don’t need the answers to,” the same man said.

  The colonel didn’t recognize his voice.

  “I am a servant of Santina,” the colonel said, his voice steady. “It is my job to ask questions regarding the security of our Kingdom.” His fear had morphed into anger—he would fight, because his wife needed him. There was a chance they had already killed her, but the colonel doubted they were that stupid. If she was dead, there wasn’t a chance he’d speak.

  “You overstepped your boundary, Colonel. You assisted a murderer,” he said.

  The colonel raised his eyebrows. “I did no such thing,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Really? Is Abigail Bennett not a murderer?” a different figure asked, emerging from the dark corner of the room.

  The colonel stilled. He hadn’t seen him there. How many more were there? The questions ran through his mind like a wildfire and his hopes of escaping went up in flames.

  “I don’t know anything about Abigail Bennett. I gave her border permissions—that’s it,” the Co
lonel said.

  “So you didn’t see her murder multiple men on the highway to Santina?”

  The colonel frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The corner of the man’s lips turned up. “Really? She dropped her weapon for you, though, didn’t she, Colonel? She trusted you and dropped her weapon. You kicked it aside and one of your men picked it up.”

  The colonel’s mind raced as he recalled memories from that night. Everything that had just been spoken was true. Had someone talked? Or had someone else been there, watching them?

  “I can see you trying to figure it out,” the man continued. “Let me help you: there was another car behind them, one driving with its lights off. They saw and recorded everything, and when Abigail Bennett becomes queen, the world will see it.”

  “They will see a person acting in self-defense,” the colonel said tightly.

  The man smirked. “Call it what you like. The people will see what we show them.”

  “So you’re going to blackmail the king?” the colonel asked through gritted teeth.

  “We’re not blackmailing anyone. I’m just telling you what’s going to happen because you won’t be here to see it. You refused to join the Revolt, and this is the consequence. Who have you spoken to regarding your security concerns, Colonel?”

  “No one,” the colonel answered without hesitation. No one, because the letter was still in his wife’s handbag.

  “I don’t believe you, and you have ten seconds to convince me you’re not lying,” the man said with a haunting grin.

  “I haven’t spoken to a soul—” The colonel hissed in a violent breath and screamed, his hands feeling like they were on fire.

  The man in front of him smirked again, but the colonel didn’t see it.

  All he could do was rock in agony.

  Abi

  Her eyelids fluttered, but she forced her eyes to stay closed. She focused on the scent of his cologne as her fingers traced his rippled abdomen, listened to his breathing as it calmed to a slow and steady pace.

  Abi willed her mind to be quiet, but she couldn’t stop thinking about how they’d gotten there. Within days, their lives as they’d known them had been shattered, and they were left with a few pieces to pick up again. What would become of them? What would become of Santina?

  Queen.

  It was a title that loomed somewhere close and yet out of reach. Did she fully understand the responsibility of such a title? Did she have to? Asher didn’t know how to be king either—it wasn’t something he’d had a practice round for—but Abi knew in the depths of his soul that he would be a good one. Before he had been one in truth, he had already thought like one.

  But were they strong enough to figure it out together? Was she the right person for Asher?

  It wasn’t a matter of whether she was good enough or not. She saw them as equals, and she believed he did too. But would she cause him more trouble than their relationship was worth?

  Would Lamberi retaliate and come for her again? Would Lamberi punish Santina because of her?

  Abi suppressed a shiver, but it was too strong. Asher shifted, tightening his arms around her, but his eyes remained closed.

  Queen.

  An enormous responsibility.

  An enormous honor.

  An enormous title to carry.

  Abi had none of the answers, but she knew one thing: she’d always dealt with anything life had thrown her. She’d steered IFRT through more storms than she could’ve imagined, and she’d kept her wits during her captivity. She hadn’t buckled. Her captivity had shown her there was more fight in her than she’d ever imagined.

  But it wasn’t what a title would do to her that worried her.

  Would she be a blessing to Asher?

  Or a curse?

  Abi pushed the concerns from her mind. No answers would come to her tonight and without a rested mind, she’d only keep going in circles.

  She focused her attention on Asher’s rhythmic breathing and the steady drum of his heart beneath her ear.

  Abi opened her eyes, startled, and it took her a moment to realize what had woken her. Her eyes darted toward the closed door.

  Hushed voices.

  Her eyes dropped to the crease in the sheets, the only indication Asher had been in bed with her last night.

  She threw back the covers and tip-toed toward the door.

  “Who did this?” Asher asked in a hushed voice.

  “Masked men. The security team is working on it,” Jesse said.

  “He was a good man,” Asher said, sounding pained. “Who else is a target? Everyone I’ve ever spoken a word to?”

  “William Bennett has increased his family’s security. He doesn’t want our help with that, and he has confidence in his team,” Jesse said.

  “This has to stop, Jesse,” Asher whispered, his eyes going wide. “This has to stop! I won’t have any more blood on my hands!” he continued, his voice becoming increasingly wild.

  Abi brought her hand to her lips, hating the anguish in Asher’s voice.

  “It’s not on your hands,” Jesse said calmly.

  “It is! These people are being targeted and dying because of me!” Asher urged.

  When Jesse didn’t respond, Abi thought they’d left, but she didn’t hear any footsteps.

  “I’ll be back,” Jesse said quietly, and Abi heard a door close.

  She opened the bedroom door and saw Asher sitting on the couch with his face buried in his hands.

  “What’s going on?” Abi asked.

  Asher looked to her with tormented eyes. “Colonel Stevens was taken from his home last night.”

  Abi gasped in a breath and her eyes bulged. “What?”

  Asher nodded. “His wife woke up to a gunshot and called the police, but he was gone when they arrived, and the footage from their security system has been deleted. Jesse has a crew there now, but there aren’t any leads.”

  Abi noticed her hands were shaking so she held them together in front of her. She hobbled toward Asher, her ankle once again throbbing.

  She pried his hands away from his face and threaded her fingers through his.

  “He was one of the few people I trusted,” Asher said quietly, his eyes staring at the white wall ahead. “And that’s why he was targeted.”

  Abi leaned her head on Asher’s shoulder.

  She couldn’t tell him it was okay or that everything would be all right.

  It wasn’t—Santina was spiraling out of control.

  Asher

  Asher looked at the manicured garden and the white-paned door. It was an idyllic home, but now it was tainted.

  Security teams flanked Asher as he walked the path to the front door. It opened as his hand reached for the doorbell, and two red-rimmed eyes met his.

  “Mrs. Stevens,” Asher said, his throat raw. “I’m so sorry. Your husband is a good man, and we will find him.” He didn’t know if he believed that, exactly, but he wanted to.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said with a voice that sounded like a rasp. She opened the door wide for them.

  Asher stepped inside and looked over Colonel Stevens’s home office. He wanted to see him there, sitting peacefully at his desk.

  “I was home,” she said, her voice cracking. “I called the police, but it was too late. He always told me that if something happened to call the police, not to go downstairs . . . I should’ve done more.”

  Asher touched her arm. Her skin was cold despite it being a warm summer day. “He would’ve been thinking of you and been glad you were asleep and safe upstairs,” Asher said.

  “May I?” Jesse asked from behind him, gesturing toward the office.

  “Of course,” Mrs. Stevens said, her face blank—and then her eyes bulged. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I didn’t offer you anything. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  Asher gave her a warm smile. “Call me Asher. And please don’t apologize—the last thing you need to be worrying about
is serving me tea.”

  Asher’s gaze darted to Jesse, who was walking through the office, his head tilting as he looked at certain overturned objects. Asher didn’t need to be an investigator to know that the attackers had been looking for something. Colonel Stevens was a military man—a man of order. He would not have kept his office in such disarray.

  “Do you have family in Santina, Mrs. Stevens?” Asher asked. He didn’t like the idea of her being alone in this house.

  “Our daughter lives here,” she said with a nod. “She came over this morning, but she’s gone home to pick up some clothing. She’s going to stay here with me for a few nights.”

  Asher looked to Jesse, knowing he would be listening.

  “Mrs. Stevens,” Jesse said, emerging from the office, “we’re going to suggest you and your daughter stay in a hotel for a few days—just until we can work out why your husband was taken. There’s a chance the men might come back if they didn’t find what they were looking for. While that’s unlikely, I don’t want to rule it out just yet.”

  Mrs. Steven’s eyes narrowed. “What do you think they were looking for?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” Jesse said. “But this room has been searched. Did your husband seem concerned about anything last night? Was his behavior different at all?”

  Her eyes welled, and then she shook her head. “No. We had dinner and then he came to his office. I went to bed around ten o’clock. He was writing something—a letter, I assume, because he was handwriting it, and he was old-fashioned in that way. He always handwrote his letters.” She sucked in a breath and turned away.

  Asher looked to Jesse who had turned back to look at the desk.

  “I’m sorry,” Mrs. Stevens said as she turned away from Asher.

  He shook his head. “Please, do not apologize. Your husband was taken last night. If you weren’t upset and rattled, I would be concerned.”