by Amo Jones
I want to kiss him.
I want to kiss him for our revenge. For Micaela.
I lean forward slightly, my eyes dropping to his mouth. Soft swollen lips that curve in all the right places, a hard jawline that is what models are made of.
“Don’t,” he interrupts my thoughts. I flinch back at his words, suddenly aware of how close I had leaned into him, with him inching the opposite way.
“What?”
I don’t know why him saying that hurt so much, maybe because he has never outwardly said no to me when it came to kissing him or fucking him. It stung, and the root of that lethal sting is launched right in my heart. His sting is laced with poison, and no one is smart enough to create an antidote.
Before I can ask him to elaborate and further increase my embarrassment from the obvious rejection, he’s gone, and the door is still open waiting on me to get out.
Slipping out of the car, I shuffle through The Kings until we reach the entry. Both guards bow before unlocking the gates, letting us through.
“In the dungeon,” Bishop mutters, going through his phone as we continue through. Being back in this house doesn’t upset me in any way, or bring any emotions to the surface, really, which I’m thankful for.
We make our way down the steps that lead to the dungeon, the flickers of the lit candles guiding the way. My heels echo against the stone steps.
“How do I know this isn’t a setup?” I say loudly as we land on the final step.
“Because I’m not lying to you anymore. Come on,” Nate says, gesturing down the corridor where the cells lead off.
I watch as he moves, and in the seconds between the car, or the flight, or I don’t know when, I’ve come to the conclusion that I have forgiven him. Grief can bring out the ugly in some people. Your world shifts, and it takes a part of you with it, and sometimes, you fall between the cracks of where it used to be. I can forgive him, because my love for him is stronger than my pain. But now I think I’m too late.
We stop outside of one of the cells, and Bishop unlocks it, the heavy metal clinking. The smell brings me back to when I was down here, taunting me about my lack of sanity.
There’s a dark chuckle that erupts from the darkest corner. I step forward, my shoulders stiff.
“Why?”
She waddles toward me, her plump body towering over mine. “Because you don’t get everything you want.”
My eyes narrow, anger bubbling to the surface. Is she for fucking real?
“What do you mean by that? You’re saying you killed my daughter out of jealousy? No, I don’t believe you. I know that it’s more than that.”
“How are you just so confident, little sister? Is it because you now have The Elite Kings behind you, backing your every move, or is it just because you’re that cocky?”
Her hair falls from a scrunched bun at the back of her head, her cheek bleeding and her makeup smudged. Benny got rough with her. Good.
I slightly turn my head over my shoulder, the shadows behind me all glisten with imaginary gold crowns on their heads. I smirk. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s the fact that you killed my fucking daughter!”
I can feel the rage and pain building higher and higher.
“Breathe, baby,” Nate whispers from behind me, his voice softly caressing the nape of my neck. “Don’t lose control or you’ll rush it.”
I close my eyes and count to ten. I feel his hand come to mine and that’s when I realize another thing. “You were always jealous too, though, weren’t you, Peyton?” I turn around, finding Jase.
Peyton snorts. “Hardly. I am so over all of that and got over it quickly.”
I step backward, knowing that Jase is still directly behind me. I keep my eyes on Peyton as my back pushes up against his front. Jase doesn’t move, obviously knowing what I’m about to do.
“Lies,” I whisper. “Jase was the only guy you fucked around with a lot. The one you hung off of every word, every text message. You hated that he would watch movies with me while you sulked in your bedroom. Never saw you like that with anyone else…” I tease and then watch as her eyes go over my shoulder and land on Jase. Who is completely still.
“Princessa, Nate called red on you. I can’t touch you…”
My eyes don’t move from Peyton. “You don’t have to.”
I bring my hand to the back of his and turn, running the palm of my hand up to his face.
“You loved Jase and you hated me for being a distraction for him. For being everything that you wanted to be. You started resenting me then and it played a part in the reason why you decided to do it.”
I lean up on my tiptoes, pressing Jase’s cheek to my tongue, licking him down to his neck. Then I bring my hand down and watch as her eyes follow, pain flashing through them within a blink. I fucking knew it. Knew she was still in love with him. I reach into the waistband of his jeans and grab his cock. I feel it harden and grow in the palm of my hand and he lets out a soft growl. “Fuck.”
I start stroking him over his boxer briefs. Her eyes flare. She launches at me like a fucking crazed crack head. We both stumble to the ground with her on top of me, her fist connecting with my cheek. I laugh.
“Bro…” someone says.
“Leave her,” Nate mutters.
She goes to hit me again, but I smack her fist out of my way while my other hand flies to her throat. I squeeze so roughly my nails sink into the flesh of her neck. I lock my grip further, until I feel blood slowly trickling down my fingertips. My laughing stops and her hitting stops, and everything fucking stops, because motherfucking terror is here.
“You kill my daughter and have the nerve to fucking hit me?”
Keeping my grip firmly on her throat, I shove her off me and stand to my feet as she remains on her knees, peering up at me like I’m motherfucking Mary and she’s confessing all her sins.
“Nate…” I call for him softly, an unspoken question passing between the two of us.
“You got it, baby.”
I grip harder until I feel the muscles and tissue beneath her skin click and her face turn puffy. Leaning down, my eyes search hers.
“Look at me, Peyton.”
Her eyes fly to mine as I squeeze harder, then I slam her onto her back and climb onto her chest. I press down brutally until I know her airways are blocked off.
“You suffocated my little girl. You knew she was dying under your action.”
Tears start streaming down my face as my heart once again splits open from what Peyton had done. How could you kill a baby?
“You showed no mercy. You were relentless. Now it’s my turn. Open your eyes, so I can watch as the life slips from your worthless body and your soul gets dragged to hell.”
Her face is purple now, the result of her gasping for air with desperation. Memories attempt to flash in my head of us when we were little, but at the end of every memory, all I wish for is that I had killed her back then. Her eyes start rolling back and I lean into her ear, my grip remorseless.
“I’ll be here until my fucking hand cramps, Peyton. Can you feel your organs shutting down? Your heart slowing as it takes its final beats? The blood desperately crashing through your veins, chasing life it doesn’t deserve?”
Her body feels limp and I lean back, her head fallen to the side, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. I thought it would be satisfying, putting an end to her, and it somewhat is. But I still have anger inside of me. She still got out of that too easy.
“I’ll meet you in hell, bitch.” I spit on her face just as arms wrap around my stomach, bringing me to my feet. I don’t have to look back to know that it’s Nate. My body responds to him whether I want it to or not.
“It’s done.” He kisses my nape. “But I need to leave my mark.”
I step backward, gesturing to her dead corpse. “Be my guest.”
Nate steps forward, removing his shirt and giving it to me. A small gesture that means so much. He’s calculating, flicking an army knife between his fingers.
He leans over the top of her and cuts her shirt off. I watch as he sinks the knife into her chest, over her sternum, and slices her with seamless precision, all the way down to her belly button. My stomach churns, so I look away for a second. When I hear slushing, gushing and heavy things falling to the concrete floor, I close my eyes. Don’t do it. Don’t look at what he’s doing. The room is silent, with nothing but the sound of, what I’m guessing is organs falling to the ground and the strong scent of metal suffocating me. I hold my breath. But I feel him in front of me. My eyes slowly open and find their way up to him. He’s watching me carefully, searching mine with something else this time. Peace? Tranquility?
“Kiss me,” he whispers.
I can see the blood on his chest, but I don’t care. I lean up on my tiptoes and crash my lips against his. He doesn’t move into me. He simply opens his mouth wide and licks me across my lips as I devour him. Losing myself in all that is him. He consumes me more than anything in this world, the feeling is stronger than love. It’s stronger than hate, or pain. He smothers me and owns every single bit of who I am. Something wet, hard, and heavy drops into my palms and I pull away out of instinct, but his hand grabs mine, forcing it back on. I squirm, my lips moving against his.
“What is it?”
He shuffles back enough to watch me. “Look at it.”
“I don’t really want to. Also don’t really want to hold it. Whatever it is…”
He repeats. “Look at it.”
I suck in a breath and then my eyes drop to my hands. Her bloody heart rests in the palms of my hands, the cardiac valves and tissue still hanging from the organ. My legs start shaking and my stomach churns.
“Nate…”
“She took ours, so we take hers.” He brings the tip of his knife into the center of it and sinks it down, until blood streams between my fingers. “We done?”
I nod, dropping the heart to the ground. “Yes. We’re done.”
Nate looks over my shoulder. He nods at The Kings and then curls his arm around my neck, pulling me into him. “Good. I’m hungry.”
We all start making our way out of the cell and just before we leave out of sight, I turn around slightly and take a mental picture of the sight inside the cell. Peyton torn open from the chest, and her bloody dead heart on the dirt-ridden floor with Nate’s knife lodged into it.
“Peace out, bitch.”
Tillie
After a quick shower in Katsia’s bedroom—which by the way, is insane. The structure and architecture is articulate and the décor is something I have never seen before. Her bedroom is laced in soft lilac and dark greys, with large windows that overlook the front of the mansion. The bathroom is at the end of the bedroom, but open. It’s odd, but freeing. The shower has six—yes, six—large shower heads that drop from the ceiling, which is one large mirror. This entire room was made for sex and screams orgasms louder than any orgasm receiving girl.
I dress in new clothes but wash my shoes carefully because I’m not leaving them here, before heading back down to the main living areas where The Kings wait. Nate hasn’t said a word to me since showing me where Katsia’s room was. I’m not confused anymore, I know he cares for me, maybe even loves me to a certain extent, but I’m not delusional about my future with him. It’s probably not going to happen, but just because you know you might not have a future with someone, it doesn’t numb the feelings you have for them. Unfortunately.
As soon as I enter the sitting room, everyone falls silent.
I roll my eyes, leaning against the door frame. “Don’t worry, I’m not seeing dead people.”
Eli chuckles.
Brantley watches me carefully.
Nate is glaring at me.
“What’d I do now? I always feel like I’m in trouble.”
“Okay, I have to know who voted to have a girl in the group?” Ace murmurs. “I mean she is in our fucking clique.”
I press the palm of my hand to my heart. “Aw, I’m touched. Can I call myself a King?”
Nate rolls his eyes. “I need to talk with you.” He brushes past me, and out of habit, my eyes find Brantley.
Brantley nods, so I turn and follow Nate toward the foyer and out the front door. He heads straight for the gates. I run, catching up to him.
“What’s going on?”
“You asked me if there was another option to who would take over the island if you don’t want to.”
“Yes,” I say, falling into step beside him.
We make our way down the main street, passing all of the stores until Nate turns us toward a small alleyway between a weapon shop and a bakery. I follow behind him.
“Why?”
We come out the end and tree’s line the back of the shops, with lights hanging in the branches. There are small cleared footpaths that lead into the forest, and he carries on forward.
I look down at my heels, and then look back up at him, praying to the fashion gods that they forgive me for the treatment I’ve been laying out to Jimmy Choo. The sun is setting in the sky, the day turning to night. I know that this is when the people of Perdita come out, and a big part of me is eager to see their way of life.
When I catch back up to my grumpy leader, I chew on my bottom lip. “Where are we going?”
“I’m going to introduce you to someone. I want you to have an open mind to her and not react with your fangs.”
“I don’t have fangs…”
As we tread deeper into the forest, I find myself looking around. The trees are all separated perfectly, giving me enough clearance to see through them. There are multiple paths that lead off in different directions, with little wooden signs that point down the dusty lanes. The names are all in Latin, so I don’t understand what they say. Nate takes a turn down Adamantem and I follow closely beside him. I itch to reach for him, but since his attitude has been cold, I retract the urge.
“Wow,” I whisper, my footing slowing as we trudge deeper.
There are small cottage style homes that line each side of the lane. Not many, maybe three or four? Nate nods his head toward a larger style cottage home with white flushed wood and glass windows.
“Come on.”
I follow, because now I’m intrigued. Lights begin to flicker on along the pathway and the trees behind and in-between the homes. The darker it gets, the more lights start to turn on, around the houses, framing the windows and doors. We climb the few steps that lead to the front door and Nate knocks on it twice. And then twice again. As we wait, I admire the small gardens that decorate the front yard, with flowers I’ve never seen before. Mind you, I’m not a flower person so I wouldn’t actually know if we have them. Pinks, and lilacs and soft beige petals flourish through the greenery, like little spurts of life springing from nature.
The door opening brings my attention back to the forefront. A girl around my age is standing still, her eyes on Nate. She has to be around my age, maybe younger, with long brown hair and sparkling blue eyes.
“Salve, Malum.” She bows slightly, her head hanging between her shoulders as her eyes twinkle up at him.
Nate stands strong, nodding. “Salve, Adamantem. Qui scis haec?” The dead language drips off the tip of his tongue like melted chocolate. Addictive, teasing, and everything that you’ve ever wanted. Also an easy way to get diabetes.
The girl’s eyes come to mine. I see fire flash through them before recognition takes hold and has her dropping to her knees.
“Etiam, domine. Stuprum…”
Nate turns to face me. “I asked her if she knew who you were. She didn’t at first, but does now.”
“Right. Can you tell her that she doesn’t have to stay on her knees?”
“Sursum, Adamantem.”
She stands instantly, running the palms of her hands over her flannel pants and coat. Their clothes are much like ours, only dated back in maybe the 90s. She moves to the side and gestures for us to enter.
Nate shakes his head as he continues to speak in Latin to her. I watch as he
r eyes scan over him with lust. She’s hanging off of every word, her nipples hard for him.
“Have you fucked her?” I ask Nate, interrupting his rambles.
He pauses, his eye twitching as he brings his attention to me. I don’t give him the same courtesy, and I’m loving the fact that she can’t understand English.
I keep my eyes on hers, as she keeps hers on him. On someone who belongs to me. At least he does inside my head. And heart. The more I think about it, the more the rage burns.
“Yes. Frequently. Why?”
I tense, along with my jaw. I’m biting down on it so hard I’m sure my teeth will crack. “Interesting.”
“What’s interesting about that?”
I finally bring my eyes to his. “The fact that even in this world, you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”
He tilts his head. “You really want to do this right now. Right here?”
“It’s your tune, baby. I’m just dancing to it…” I sass, grinning at him. He infuriates me. Just when I think I’m ready to address and claim my feelings for him, this frustrating man goes and does something dumb like this.
“Don’t fucking throw metaphors at me, Tillie. Speak your fucking mind. I fucked her. Regularly. I fucking enjoyed it, and I’m pretty sure she did too. What do you want from me? You know I have a past.”
Just how far back does she go, though…
I exhale. “Good thing she doesn’t understand or speak English.”
“Actually,” she whispers softly. “I do.”
I still, my eyes flying to Nate. “Who is she?”
His jaw clenches a few times. “She’s an Adamantem, the English translation is Diamond. Basically, they’re the only living family that has a direct blood line to the Stuprum tree. So in short—”
“—she could run Perdita…” I whisper. Nate’s slut antics bumped to the back of my brain.
“Yeah,” Nate murmurs. “But you would have to announce it in front of the people for them to recognize her as their new queen.”
“Nate,” the girl says. The fact that I don’t know her name bothers me.
