“Shocking,” I said, staring back at him. I didn’t even feel what Cotton was doing. My body was slowly freezing back over, the way it had been before Colt touched me and thawed me and reminded me what pleasure felt like. It was better this way, when no one could poke the bleeding heart, crack me open and dig out my insides like crab meat. “And now I have ammunition on the asshole who could destroy me. If he tries, I’ll tell Royal he went down on me.”
Cotton sat back and spit on the floor. “Yeah, because you held a fucking gun to my head.”
I smirked down at him and used the line he’d probably delivered more than once but never expected to receive. “No one will believe you.”
“Colt’s right there,” he said, gesturing across the room.
“And you think Royal’s going to believe Colt?” I asked, quirking a brow. “You really are dumb. Let me explain it simply. You fucked with the wrong psycho. You should never have asked for my car, or asked to look at me, or flaunted your gun. You have no right to see anything, you slimy little weasel. And Royal may let you sit at his table, but he doesn’t have any more loyalty to you than he does to me. He cares about two people, and two people only—his brothers. So if you do make the stupid decision to tell him, he’ll look at this rationally. What would be more likely? That the oversexed creep who can’t get a girl when she’s awake blackmailed me into giving it up, or that the queen bitch who only endures sex when it’s required of her wanted his creepy little friend so bad she held a gun to your head?”
“You’re crazy.”
“Ah, back to that,” I said. “Why do you both seem so shocked by that? You’ve seen what they do to me. You’ve watched them do it for a year now. You really must think I’m a queen if you think I could get through that unscathed. Now, just in case you’re still contemplating telling him, you’re going to go clean up Colt. Then you can go.”
“What the fuck?” Colt said, starting to stand.
I swung the gun his way. “Did I fucking stutter?”
“Gloria…”
“Oh, now you know my name?”
“I always knew your name,” he said quietly.
“Then you know I’m a heartless bitch,” I said. “You were right all along. I’m the queen of hell, like you said. Taking me out of my cage for a week didn’t change who I am.”
“We’re related,” Cotton points out.
“Yeah? So are me and my sisters. Did that ever stop the Dolces from making us do sick shit?”
He glared at me.
“Answer when your queen speaks to you,” I snapped.
He flinched. “No?”
“You sound unsure,” I said. “Is it that hard to remember? Because I remember. I remember you cheering it on when they made my sisters kiss, when they made them do cleanup duty. I guess it’s sexy when girls do it. That’s not incest, right? They’re hot blonde twins so it doesn’t count.”
“I’m not doing this,” Colt said.
“I think you are,” I gritted out, slipping my finger onto the trigger. “I’ve seen you do worse for the Dolce boys, don’t forget. All you have to do is sit there until he’s done. That’s how you keep from losing more fingers.”
“No.”
“You’re not even blood. You’re third cousins once removed or some shit.”
“How do you know that?”
“Royal told me,” I said. “They were talking about whether to lump Cotton in with your family when they destroyed you. Now go on, Cotton. Be a good little slut and clean him up too. I’m going to get a shot of this on my phone, just in case you ever get any ideas about fucking with me again.”
Cotton went to work while Colt knelt there, his hands still behind his head, his eyes fixed on me with hateful belligerence, like he was proving a point—I couldn’t break him. No matter what I did, he would no more break for me than he had for the Dolces.
When Cotton finished, he sat back on his heels. “There, your highness,” he ground out. “Satisfied?”
“Yes,” I said. “Now leave. And remember this before you cross me again.”
“Fucking psycho,” he said, but he wasn’t stupid enough to stick around and test me again.
“Can I get up, your highness?” Colt asked, glaring at me with a dark, sullen expression I hadn’t seen on his face for a long time.