by Amo Jones
Dad’s face falls. He pauses, and then he shoots off his chair like his ass just caught on fire. “What the fuck do you mean he’s here?” he roars, his hands flying out. The office door bursts open and Bishop strides in, checking me over quickly before giving my dad a death glare. “She knows he’s her brother, her twin,” Bishop starts.
“Thanks,” I mutter under my breath, turning back in my chair. “I was just getting to that part.”
“And that’s all she knows.”
Hold up. “Wait.” I put my hand up. “What does that mean? And why did you just storm into this office like you were afraid my dad was going to say something?” I look back at Dad to see his face soften slightly before eventually falling completely. He looks to me. “Baby girl, go upstairs. I need to talk to Bishop.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You can talk in front of me.”
“The fuck we can. Get your ass upstairs—now.” Bishop glares at me.
I wince, but square my shoulders. “Why? Why can’t you stop fucking hiding shit from me?”
Bishop takes one step. “Because…” Another step. “You are Madison fucking Montgomery…” Step. “The Silver motherfucking Swan.” Double step. “So get your fucking ass upstairs.” The tip of his shoe hits mine. “Now,” he growls.
I run my eyes up his dark jeans, past his clean black shirt, over his thick neck and plump lips, until I’m finally staring into eyes that are like the gates of hell. Only, I would let the fucker push me in and lock them behind him. “One day—” I tilt my head. “—I will know everything, and you won’t be able to control shit.” I stand, almost nose-to-nose with him.
He looks down at me, his dark glare turning into a grin. “Maybe. Not today though, so get the fuck out.”
I turn in my step and walk out of the office before he can yell at me some more. Only he’s not yelling at me. Only Bishop has a way about him where it feels like he’s yelling at you without actually raising his voice. Must be an intimidation tactic of some sort. He’s stella in those.
Taking the stairs one at a time, I walk into my room, slamming the door behind me. Flopping down onto my bed, the fluffy blankets puffing out beneath me, I tilt my head to face the ceiling as I replay over all the new information. I know I’m not going to get anything solid out of anyone around here.
“Madison…,” Daemon whispers softly.
I keep my vision locked on the ceiling. “Yes, Daemon?”
“The book.”
Pushing myself up, I reach under the bed and search for the book. Something has happened with Miss Winters too. How has she disappeared? And Tillie. Where the fuck is Tillie? There’s so much I still have to figure out, but for some reason, I feel like my answers will lie between the words in this book, not by trying to decipher the Latin language from my long lost twin brother.
Fuck this book.
Flicking open the page, I sink into my bed and continue where I left off.
12.
The birth of the Lost Boys
One…Two…Three…Four…Five…Six…
I counted each head. “Why are you here?” I asked, tilting my head at Joshua. Joshua was the first person to put his hand up when Humphrey decided to cook up this idea. Why? I don’t know. Humphrey comes from a good home. I thought he was a good kid too.
“Because I want to do something useful with my life. Make my family proud.”
“Proud?” I asked. “Proud of killing innocent babies? Because that’s what you will be doing.”
He swallowed, and I saw his jaw flinch. “I—I don’t. I will do what I need to do, ma’am.”
“What if I gave you another job? Something that will still make your family proud but won’t have you doing such disturbing jobs.” I pushed off the counter and walked toward him. “I’m offering you an ultimatum, Joshua. Will you accept it?”
He looked deep into my eyes, and I saw it. I saw his silent cries for help. The way the corner of his eyes crinkled when I offered him a different job. “I will do anything, Miss Katsia. I think that much is obvious.”
I nodded then come-hithered the other five boys who were waiting patiently for me at the back of the empty cave. “Who knows about fireflies?”
They all stepped forward, shaking their head. “Not much,” one of them replied. This one was strong. I could see it in how his shoulders squared with self-assurance and the way he didn’t flinch.
“Well,” I began. “What do you know about beetles?”
They all shook their heads.
“Okay, so what’s more appealing? The firefly or the beetle?”
“Firefly,” they all murmured, looking at each other for approval.
I smiled. “But did you know that the firefly is still only a beetle? They’re just nocturnal members of the family.”
“What’s your point, Miss Katsia?” the cocky boy asked, and I admire his no beating around the bush attitude. He’s going to need it.
“My point is, how they see us…” I pointed out toward the outside of the cave. “Has to be the beetle. We have to remain within the same family. They have to think we’re of the same family. Fighting for the same cause.”
“But we’re not going to be—are we?” Joshua whispered, looking to me in awe.
I shook my head slowly, a small smile tickling my lips. “No.”
“So what would you be having us do, Katsia?” the cocky boy asked.
Looking back to him, I tilted my head. “What’s your name?”
“Benjamin.”
“Benjiman… who?”
“Benjiman Vitiosus.”
“Ahhh,” I mumbled. It made sense. He was a Vitiosis. I didn’t recognize him earlier because the order of the Lost Boys worked like this: If you’re a sibling who doesn’t have what they call Elite Blood, then you get thrown in to be a Lost Boy, who—what Humphrey wants to do—are cleaners of the world. Humphrey has lined out the world very thoroughly. We have breeding time, which is the only time that we can try for babies. If you don’t fall pregnant, then you will have to wait four years before you can try again, and you only get to try twice. You see, Humphrey has made a natural order in the most unnatural way. You get the first two tries, and then you cannot try again. It’s about breeding them, but we need them in fours. Humphrey was too smart for his own good, for all of us. He had everything mapped out, and no one was stopping him. Not now—not ever.
If you had a child or a nephew who didn’t have Elite Blood, meaning they didn’t have what it took to be a King, then they got thrown in to be a Lost Boy. Trained. Well, that was what I was supposed to be doing, but instead, I have another plan for these boys. I want to fight Humphrey. Fight his cause and fight it to the death. He took my baby girl and killed her. Now… now I start a very detailed plan to kill him.
Slamming the book closed, I think over what I just read. I’m beginning to see the shift in Katsia from what she was in the beginning. She’s stronger. There’s vengeance in her blood, and we all know that once vengeance seeps into your blood, there’s no extracting that from your system. The only way that gets siphoned out is by getting your revenge. So all Lost Boys are somehow intertwined into the family of one of the Kings. This world is, once again, messed up. Flipping over, I hit my light and slide under my covers, snuggling into my warm sheets and drifting into a deep sleep.
Fog from the empty night expels from my lungs, and I stop running, leaning over to catch my breath. “Riddle me this, Kitty.”
“NO!” I scream, shielding my ears with my hands. “Fuck you!” Slamming my eyes closed, I shoot forward, the damp leaves sliding under the soles of my shoes. My heart pounds in my chest and my blood tears through my veins like bullets full of adrenalin. I keep running blindly as sweat trickles down my cool flesh, goose bumps breaking out over my spine, so I open my eyes and stop. Looking out to the still lake in the middle of the forest, I whisper in confusion, “What?”
I spin around to try to figure out where I just came from, but nothing is there. Only the bushes
that hide the lake—the same lake Bishop and I fooled around in. A single bright firefly flutters in the air, swimming around in front of my face. I smile, letting the little bug light something inside of my gut. Reaching out, I go to touch it, but just as my fingertip connects with the little body, it turns to blood, dripping down over my finger.
“Ew!” I pull my finger back then look around the empty lake again. “Why am I here?” Wind whisks through my hair, igniting my skin and senses, and that’s when I smell it—the sweet, soapy scent of man. Inching my head over my shoulder, I smile softly.
“Took you long enough.”
Bishop steps forward so he’s standing directly beside me and looks out to the lake. “You run faster now.”
I grin, turning to face him. “Or you’ve gotten slower.” Looking him up and down, I take in what he’s wearing and my eyebrows pull together in confusion. He has no shirt on, his delicious body on full display, and his ripped jeans cover his long, lean legs. Barefoot, standing there like that in the middle of almost winter seems ridiculously strange. Actually, this entire setting feels strange. I look out toward the rock Bishop and I played around on what feels like years ago now, and smile. “There’s that rock.” When he doesn’t answer, I turn to face him, but he’s gone.
“Bishop?” I call out, looking around for him. Something doesn’t feel right. Actually, everything feels extremely wrong.
“Kitty,” Nate murmurs, and I spin around, seeing Nate leaning on his elbows in the sand, with no shirt on either.
“Aren’t you cold?” I ask him, finally having enough of all the lack of clothes.
“I don’t know.” Nate runs his eyes up and down my body then grins. “Aren’t you?”
“No, I….” I look down to see I’m wearing nothing but a little black G-string and a black bra. “Oh my God!” But he’s right. I’m not cold.
“Nice. Can see why you’re both hitting that.” Brantley’s dark voice comes in from the shadows behind Nate.
“Bishop, yes. Nate, no,” I correct, my hands on my hips.
“Nate, almost—twice.” Nate smirks.
I open my mouth, just about to correct him again, when Hunter, Jase, Ace, Saint, Eli, Cash, and Chase slowly come in behind Brantley, all similarly dressed.
“The gang’s all here?” I ask, shaking my head.
Nate glares over my shoulder, his eyes going dark. “Now they are.”
A hand runs up my thigh while another grips onto my hip, holding me into place. I close my eyes. “Bishop….”
His lips skim over my shoulder, his breath falling on my cool skin. “Who owns you?” Then he licks me from shoulder blade to shoulder blade while his hand on my thigh travels up to my apex. “Who owns you, Madison?”
I moan out slightly, biting down on my bottom lip.
He squeezes. “I’m not a patient man.”
“Why?” I ask. Even in the midst of my lust, my stubborn ass still can’t let some shit go.
His fingertips dig into the flesh of my thigh. “Say it. Tell me what I want to hear,” he growls, his lips pressing against the rim of my earlobe.
“You.”
Shit.
He chuckles into my ear. “Good.” His hand sprawls over my stomach. “Because you’re about to get fucked like I don’t.”
Wait, what?
I turn to face him, confused. When he sees my puzzlement, he grins and looks over my shoulder. Another hand comes to the front of my throat and squeezes down.
Shit. Double shit.
Why does everything feel so good? Bishop drops to his knees in front of me as whoever it is behind me grips onto my throat, tilting my head to the side as his teeth latch onto my neck.
“You want this and you know it.”
Brantley.
Fuck.
Bishop tears my G-string off, and I look down at him as he brings it up to his face and inhales deeply. “Mine.”
I want to kick him and say, If I’m yours, then why are you sharing me? but everything feels too good. Like I’m floating on a cloud of ecstasy.
I feel no shame.
Then Bishop draws his tongue out and runs it over my panty line, a devilish smirk coming to his mouth as his eyes light up like fire. Then he hooks my G-string over his neck and wears it like a damn necklace.
Jesus Christ, is he kidding?
Brantley’s hand comes up to my bra and cups my boob, squeezing roughly just as the cool air that was whisking past my clit is replaced with Bishop’s warm mouth. “Oh my God!” I groan, my head tilting back and hitting Brantley’s chest. Brantley tears off my bra and pinches my nipples as Bishop’s tongue circles my clit, switching between rough and gentle.
“Lay down,” Brantley murmurs into my ear.
“What?” I’m still coming out of my daze when he wraps my hair around his fist and yanks me down to the sand. “Lay the fuck down.” I fall onto my ass, and both him and Bishop look down at me sprawled out on the ground.
“Well, damn,” a third voice says, coming into view.
Saint. Cash’s older brother.
He unbuttons his jeans and I gulp. Holy shit. He has six years on all of us.
“Scared?” he asks, rubbing his hand over his dick. I watch as the muscles in his chest flex. His angular jaw tenses and I look at him with fresh eyes. Or horny eyes—either one. He has a sprinkling of hair over his jaw, groomed perfectly. His nose is a little wider, but his skin is golden and his hair blond. He sort of looks like that actor Cam Gigandet, I’ve decided. He nudges his head. “You good with this?”
I want to say no. I should say no. Shit. I don’t want to say no. Nodding, I slowly pull my bottom lip into my mouth. What a fucking whore. He gets down to his knees and Bishop and Brantley both step aside, parting like the Red Sea to let him in.
“You gon’ purr tonight.”
He pushes his jeans down, tugging on his cock a few times, and then lays over me. I drop to my back, my arms going out, giving him access. His bulky body weighs on me as the tip of his thick cock presses at my entrance before slipping in, thanks to Bishop’s foreplay. My eyes pop open and I arch my back, letting out a moan loud enough to shake the trees.
He grins against my cheek. “That’s not even half, baby. I’m going to break you.” Then he pulls out and flips me onto my stomach, grabbing one leg and hitching it onto his hip as he dives inside me again. The way the tip of his cock collides with my cervix says I’m taking it all. Hands wrap around my hair and I look up the best I can to see Bishop. He unzips his jeans, pulling them down enough until his cock springs free, and then he lies back on the sand, leaning back on his elbows. Biting down on his bottom lip, his hair slightly ruffled and his eyes weak with lust, he nods down at his cock. “You know what to do, baby.” Putting my weight on one hand, I grip his dick with my other hand, sliding my lips over his head, and swallow him deeply. Bobbing up and down, I swirl my tongue around him and take him deeper until he’s hitting the back of my tonsils. He looks directly at me as Saint dives into me over and over again, hitting some sweet spot hidden deep inside me. I pause my sucking, swinging my hair over one shoulder, and look up to Bishop. He moves some of my hair out of my face sweetly, smirks, and then wraps it around his fist, tugging my face up to look at him more.
“Nate!” he calls out, his eyes not moving from me. Saint withdrawals from me, taking all my pleasure and buildup with him.
“Yo!” Nate answers. I can’t see where he is, but I’m guessing he’s right behind me—with a great view.
“Tell me how good she tastes.”
I narrow my eyes at Bishop and open my mouth to protest, but his grip tightens and I flinch, my eyes slamming closed. “Who owns you?” he growls.
“But—”
“Shut the fuck up. Who owns you?” I open my eyes, tears creeping out of the corners. Tears from my hair almost getting ripped out, or tears from the feelings of abandonment I’ve started to sense deep in my chest. He doesn’t care. I really am just a trick to him. A game. If he cared,
I wouldn’t be getting tossed around like public property. Before I can blink, I’m angry. Angry at him, but turned on by that anger.
“You own me, Bishop.” I give him what he wants while ignoring the stabbing feeling I feel in my throat.
“Now, spread them open and let him in.”
I look up at Nate and he smirks at me. “Promise to be gentle.”
I roll my eyes, because as far as I know, Nate isn’t nearly as ruthless as Brantley and Bishop, so that’s the least of my issues. Nate leans down, placing a kiss on my lips. I lean into him, his mouth meshing with mine.
“Kitty,” he whispers against my lips.
Something pokes into my chest, and I turn from left to right, not wanting this kiss to stop. Nate does kissing well.
“Kitty….”
There’s that prodding again. What the fuck? In an instant, the front of my belly has been doused in water and ice prickles over my nipples.
I shoot off the bed, reality slowly seeping its ugly fucking claws deep inside of me. “Fuck!” Rubbing my eyes, I look down at the front of my shirt, seeing my pajama top is soaked through. “Double fuck!” Then I look up, seeing Nate standing next to my bed with a water bottle in his hand and a grin on his face.
“You!” I narrow my eyes and slowly start to crawl down the bed, like a tiger about to eat its prey. I’m about to eat my prey—that prey being Nate.
“No,” he retreats, his hands coming up in surrender. “That’s not what…. I was waking you up because….” He looks around my room, trying to find a valid excuse. Squaring his shoulders, his face turns serious. “Imagine if the house was on fire, Mads!”
“But it’s not. Is it?” I challenge, standing to my feet. I watch him, and he looks over to my bedroom door briefly before looking back to me. “Madi, I can explain. It’s….” Then he makes a dash for it, launching toward my bedroom door and slamming it behind him. I fly toward it, twisting on my door handle and banging on the wood. “Open this fucking door, Nate!” I scream.
“No! Say you won’t, like, hurt my balls or something.”
