But her gaze is telling me, in no uncertain terms, that she’s done being our duty.
That millisecond of stone-cold serenity in her eyes is gone in a blink.
31
Story
“I’ll keep being like this, so long as you keep being like that.”
I look up at him, leaning into his solid body. “Like what?”
He tips forward to answer, voice deep and low in my ear. “Mine.” It sends a spatter of goosebumps down my neck and arms, prickling my damp skin.
I laugh at myself, because it takes almost nothing from these guys to electrify my blood. “Okay,” I agree, fighting back a shiver as I strain up to brush my lips against his. “Can I be yours while I’m wearing underwear?” And possibly a sweater…
His chest expands with an inhale and then caves with a long sigh. “Can I take them off later?”
“If Dimitri doesn’t get to them first.” I bury a laugh into my hand as I cross his bedroom, and then the hall. I can’t help but wonder if this is what every night will be like from now on. Not the worst way to live, getting constantly fucked by the three incredible men in my life. But, if that’s the case, I’m going to need a tutor, because staying up all night is going to destroy my grades. A couple weeks ago, I probably wouldn’t have cared about that. But now?
I love these men, and I fully plan on being part of what they’re building in South Side. Part of that is knowing that I can’t rely on men alone. I’ve seen it with my mom, Ms. Crane, and even the other Royal women. It’s going to be important—essential—to have something of my own. Something useful.
When I first came to Forsyth, studying for a career in social work was little more than an indistinct ambition. It made sense to me, but I’d be lying to myself if I claimed to have felt any genuine passion for it. Ever since I enrolled, I’ve had trouble finding any excitement or drive about it.
Until this week.
Now social work is something I can see myself doing—down in South Side, with kids like me and Dimitri. It’s how I fit, I’ve come to realize. It’s what I’m going to bring to Killian’s rule. If the four of us are going to change this tiny part of the world, then this is how I’m going to contribute.
Suddenly, I can’t wait to really sink my teeth in. I’m engrossed in my lectures. I’m hungrily soaking up every word and meeting my professors to go over my notes. I’m signing up for study groups, just like the one Marcus drove me home from earlier in the day. It’s this strange, fresh energy that’s had me buzzing ever since Daniel died.
I’ve never felt a purpose before.
I step into my bedroom, opening my dresser. I snag a pair of panties from the top drawer and slip them on before grabbing a plain white tee from the bottom drawer. It’s halfway over my head when I hear the soft snick of my door closing.
My mouth curves into a grin. “Tell me you found the pasta.” I pull the shirt down before turning to Killian. “If we keep this up, I’m going to need so many calories to—”
But my words get lodged in my throat, caught in a tangle of fear, because I might turn to face someone, but it’s not Killian.
The person standing in front of my door is motionless, masked, and dressed head-to-toe in black. My heart stampedes in my chest as I jerk back, noticing the gun. Not just any gun. My gun. I’d know the shape of it, the silver glint against the moonlight coming in through the window, anywhere. The hand wrapped around it is small—as small as my own—and the silhouette of the body has curves. Womanly.
“Sutton?” My voice emerges in a sandpaper-rough whisper. “This isn’t cool.”
The woman doesn’t move, just standing there in the dark, watching me blindly flail for something to use as a weapon. My hand fumbles over perfume bottles and a picture frame, a Forsyth teddy bear, and then the round top of the sparkly LDZ skull. There’s nothing that’ll help against a gun.
“What do you want?” I try to make my voice strong, but I feel anything but, standing here in a T-shirt and panties with an intruder in the house. I know firsthand just how dangerous these Royal women can be. I pitch my voice low and threatening. “They’ll kill you this time. Killian’s not a Lord anymore. He’s a King now. He’ll kill you, and no one will blink an eye.”
The intruder tucks the gun in her waistband and holds up her hands in a non-threatening manner. My heart pounds as she reaches for the bottom edge of the mask and pushes it up. I take a minute to process what I’m seeing—who I’m seeing.