Page 3 of Lords Of Ruin

“Look at that,” Jasmine whispers, tilting her head to the right where an ornate silver vase is perched atop a marble pedestal near the entrance. It glimmers tantalizingly in the light, and I can already envision the price tag it must carry.

“That’s a steal-worthy piece. But it’s too exposed. Anyone could see us lift it.” I huff, continuing to survey the room. I need to go upstairs to the jewelry, something small like a watch that I will probably have to hide between my butt cheeks, but it’ll be worth it. Right when I am going to turn to Jasmine and tell her, that’s when I see the first Chessman, Juan “Cast” Castillo.

Cast stands across the room, a figure carved from shadows and light, his emerald-green eyes glinting like polished gemstones. The flickering party lights catch the glitter dusted across his bare chest, making him shimmer like an earth bound god. He moves with an effortless grace, his body coiling and uncoiling like a serpent ready to strike, each motion smooth and deliberate as he dances.

His tousled and wild brown hair frames his chiseled features, drawing attention to his high cheekbones and the mischievous glint in his eyes. A playful smirk dances on his lips; one that looks inviting and sweet. He’s dressed in a daring ensemble that barely conceals his toned physique—just a few strategically placed foil patches, duct tape, and an ornate belt hanging low on his hips.

The chaos of the party swirls around him--his presence demanding attention as if he’s the sun and everyone else are mere planets caught in his orbit. I can feel myself drawn to him like prey to the colorful trance of their predator.

As soon as our gazes connect, everything else blurs out of focus. My heart races in my chest, and I can almost feel the electricitycrackling between us. His intense stare bores into me, sparking a tingling sensation that runs through my body. He is no longer smiling, and my stomach drops, knowing that I am the reason he doesn’t look so carefree anymore.

I pull my gaze away and whisper into Jasmine’s ear. “I’ll distract the crowd. You keep an eye out for the guards and the Chessmen. If anything goes sideways, bail.”

Jasmine raises an eyebrow. “Don’t get in trouble, Will, promise?”

“Trouble is just another word for opportunity,” I smirk as I grab a shot off of a passing waiter’s tray and down it, flashing her a huge grin. “Make sure Cast doesn’t follow me.”

Chapter2-Vincent

She locks eyes with Cast,but I saw her first. Willow Cater, in my house, wearing four cereal boxes that barely cover her breasts and definitely don’t cover her ass. I must thank Cast for his no-underwear rule; it’ll make what I want to do to her so much easier.

I know we hate her,but there is a thin line between hate and lust, and fuck does she not teeter on the line of making me want to fuck her every day. When we first met her, she had been sick for three years prior, and she looked hollow and broken, just like Rosemary looked the last time I saw her. She was a shell of a girl that I wanted to fill.

I wantedto make her our little slave for the rest of her life for taking away the only woman who has ever loved me, but Damienwouldn’t have it. Just looking at her made him sick, and since he was the one left alone in a broken-down apartment in the shitty part of town, he made the call on what we would do to Willow. He decided we hated her, that we would make her wish she died instead of Rosemary, and while I think that’s a waste of a perfect ass and hourglass figure, I wasn’t the one who lost their biological mother.

I watchher from the balcony, shrouded in shadows, leaning forward on my throne with a joint hanging out of my mouth. I’m up here away from everyone because I’m not likable like Juan, or in love with the limelight like Damien. I hate parties. I only have this fucking party to reestablish what everyone knows: I am King of Thronhaven, and I keep my subject satiated. At every party I make a grand entrance, pick the girl I want in my bed tonight, fuck her and then go to sleep.

Willow whispersto her friend and then snakes her perfect ass through the crowd, looking cautiously over her shoulder when she reaches the grand staircase leading up to the private rooms upstairs. She slides past the velvet rope with a distinct ‘Do Not Enter’ sign hanging on it.

A low chucklerumbles through my chest—naughty girlsneaking into forbidden areas. She will need to be punished, and I know the perfect way to do so.

I stampthe joint out on the railing and move through the dark hallways to the other side of the house, which is too fucking big for me, my stepmother, Angie, and her two children, both under the age of ten, both in boarding school. My father and Angie areon their annual February trip to England on my birthday, and unless you count the silent servants, I live here alone most of the time. I have twenty-five bedrooms, fifteen bathrooms, six half-bathrooms, three pools, a music room with a professional-grade recording studio, a tennis and basketball court, a mini-museum, Rosemary’s untouched art studio, a library, and, of course, a greenhouse all to myself. I would like it if Damien also lived here, but he refuses to leave the apartment he lived in with his mother. Juan and I take turns paying the rent, and sometimes we stay there, too, because it feels more like home than either of our houses.

I keep walkinguntil I see a tiny sliver of light flooding the hallway, and my lips quirk because the little devil found my room out of all the rooms in this house.How lucky am I?

I lightly push the door open, and she doesn’t notice. Her body is hunched over the glass case in the corner, filled with watches, cufflinks, diamond earrings, and a platinum, diamond-encrusted, Jesus-piece chain Cast got me as a joke. I may be old money, but Cast’s money goes longer than mine, and while he claims he’s just a billionaire, I swear he’s a trillionaire.

Willow’s hands run along the edges of the case; she shakes it once, trying to lift the top. Her cereal skirt rides up with the movement, and I can see her round ass peeking beneath theFoot Loopsmascot.Fuckshe looks so goddam delectable; her tiny waist is on display, and I can see she has fucking back dimples. My cock swells against my makeshift bubble wrap shorts as I imagine how perfect those divots are for my thumbs to fit into when I rail her from the back.

If it weren’t for that thought, she wouldn’t have heard the bubble wrap pop.

2

WILLOW

Vincent Beaumont is staring at me. His eyes are so low like he is struggling to keep them open, but the smile on his lips is sharp and predatory, and I almost want to run out the double doors to the left of me and see what would happen if I jumped off the balcony.

“Well, this is a nice surprise.” He drawls, his voice smooth and low, laced with an undertone that sends heat between my legs, and I am very aware of how little ‘clothes’ I have on right now.

“You would think it was my birthday, little Willow Cater in my room barely dressed, the perfect present.” The words roll off his tongue like honey, sweet yet tinged with something darker, something sexier. He stalks deeper into the room, his tongue runs across his bottom lip, as his eyes flicker down.

“I’m not a present for you.” I rush the words out of my mouth, and my eyes dart around the room, looking for an escape that won’t result in broken limbs.

Vincent pouts, with faux sadness on his face. “Then you came in here to surprise me? How sweet are you?”

“No,” I cough out before I can really think about it, but even if I did I can’t distract Vincent with sex. I’m a virgin and I can’t give my virginity to Vincent Beaumont, especially if his dick is popping bubble wrap. It might kill me.

When he is only a step away from me he leans forward, hovering over me. “Then why are you here?”

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