Page 86 of Ruthless Kings of Havoc

“Ugh, I know.” There’s my brother’s voice, muffled by the blanket that covers his head. He mutters something intelligible, proving he isn’t far off from falling asleep, but he manages to tug the blanket a bit lower before reaching over to pat the space to his far left. “Just join already before I fall asleep.”

“Hmph. You put hickeys all over my mark,” Zander grumbles, but the creak of the bed proves he doesn’t have the intention of not accepting the invitation.

“Hickeys are temporary,” Ares mutters. “I’m not even going to ask why you marked her again.”

“Jealousy suits you,” Zander mumbles. “Dolcezza?”

The woman between the two is sleeping soundlessly. It makes Zander chuckle while I catch the way he scoops her into his arms with ease.

“Mine.”

“Selfish prick,” Ares mumbles. “Leave me an arm or something.”

“You can attend your feet fetish,” Zander offers as an excuse.

“I don’t have one,” Ares whines. “C’mon. School’s tomorrow. Let me be in a good mood.”

“I gave you three hours of spontaneous, uninterrupted sex,” Zander reveals the muttered truth. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice how those maids scurried away before you wanted to make it your utmost mission to let every staff member in this mansion know you have an active sex life.”

“Says the fucker who was probably masturbating to it all,” Ares groans.

“Maybe.” Zander sounds appeased. “Good content, I love to admit.”

“Could have just joined,” Ares surprisingly notes.

I don’t expect him to suggest it.

“You hate sharing sexually. You think it’s gay.”

“I thought it was gay because Domino emphasized how gay it was,” Ares confesses. “It’s not like I had an issue fucking the same girl. I just don’t want my lips sucking cock.”

“You’ll be surprised how fun that is,” Zander mumbles, sounding as if his lips are pressed against something. Probably nestled between V’s neck and shoulder.

“You’re not gay.”

“I never said I was straight, either,” Zander counters.

“So, you bend both ways.”

“If I feel like it,” Zander notes quietly and yawns. “Don’t worry, you’re not my type.”

“I’m relieved and insulted.”

“Good,” Zander hums. “We have to get Dolcezza a survival gift.”

Ares doesn’t reply right away.

“A what?”

“A survival gift.”

“For surviving death itself?” Ares offers.

“Yes.” Zander sounds determined despite his obvious exhaustion.

“Whatever you think is best, get it.”

“You’re normally not that convincing.”

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