Page 47 of Princes of Carnage

“From the way that fridge looks, you clearly didn’t plan on having to feed yourself either,” I shoot back with a smirk.

She shoots me glare and gets up as well, pulling her own clothes back on. “Freeloaders don’t get to complain. Or judge me.”

“We’re married now,” I say. “If you live off takeout or starve to death, that reflects poorly on me.”

“Good.”

I step out of the bedroom and head downstairs, with Quinn close at my heels. I can’t tell if she’s following because she’s hungry too, or if she just doesn’t want me running loose in her kitchen in the middle of the night.

Killian and Atlas are both up when we enter the living room, sitting on opposite ends of the brown leather couch with the TV on. Some old school action movie plays on the screen, but both of them look away when we walk in.

“I see they’ve just made themselves at home,” Quinn mutters under her breath.

No one points out the obvious: that for the duration of our marriage, this is their home.

I raise an eyebrow at Atlas, who gives me a flat look back.

“It was getting a little hard to sleep upstairs,” he comments.

I chuckle. Judging from the way he’s looking at me, he and Killian heard everything.

“It’s not like you’re not used to hearing me have a good night,” I tell them both, because it’s true.

Atlas doesn’t seem amused by my words, which isn’t surprising. He’s been tense as fuck ever since I laid out this plan to him and Killian, and although I know he’s got my back like always, I also know that he thinks this is dangerous.

He’s not wrong. It is dangerous.

I’m taking a calculated risk for the good of my crew. But sleeping with Quinn doesn’t make it any riskier, so I don’t see any good reason not to. It’s not like there are feelings involved.

“Remind me to get some fucking earplugs, Killian,” Atlas drawls. “It’s the only way I’m gonna get any fucking sleep around here.”

Killian doesn’t respond, just snorts softly.

They both look over at Quinn, and a pink flush creeps up her neck. Even wearing clothes, she looks thoroughly fucked. Her lips are still kiss bruised, and her teal hair is a wild mess from rolling around on the bed. Anyone who saw her now would know what we were doing.

Her muscles tense, like she’s tempted to turn back around and go upstairs to get away from Atlas’s and Killian’s intent gazes, but she stands her ground instead.

“What?” she demands, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you have something to say to me, then fucking say it.”

Atlas opens his mouth like he does have something to say, but then closes it again, turning his head and staring hard at the TV.

“You shouldn’t worry about them seeing you like this,” I tell her. “Any other man? Well, now that I know how good you taste and how perfectly you fall apart, I think I’d be inclined to stab his eyes out for looking at you like this. But these two are basically my blood, closer than brothers. We don’t hold anything back from each other.”

Quinn glances sharply at me, like she’s trying to decipher exactly what I mean by that. I’m not sure what’s going through her mind as her gaze darts between me and my two best friends, but I suddenly find that I want to.

In fact, I want to know so much more about her.

Good thing that’s why we’re here then, I tell myself, although I know that’s not what this alliance is truly supposed to be about.

When I speak again, the Italian flows easily off my tongue. “Sarà molto interessante essere sposati con te, mia piccola e bellissima nemica.”

16

QUINN

The next morning, I wake up groggy and exhausted.

It was a weird night of sleep and nothing even approaching restful. The orgasm and intense sex left me exhausted, ready to crawl into bed and pass out, but at the same time, I felt on edge all night from having these men in my house. It was impossible to relax or turn my brain off, knowing they’re all here, just down the hall, so I kept dropping into a deep sleep and then wrenching myself out of it.

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