Page 4 of Lost Kingdom

In my pocket, my phone vibrates with a text that steals a portion of my brainpower. Another portion, dedicated to my brother and his bride. But the vast majority of everything I am focuses on the long, black lashes kissing Aubree’s cheeks when she blinks. The rise and fall of her chest when she breathes. My existence anchors on the protrusion of her collarbones, because she’s both curvy and too thin at the same time.

“Would you have preferred I didn’t wear it?” Vacillating back to shyness, she drops her hand and inadvertently brushes my forearm with her pinkie finger. “I can take it off if it would make you more comfortable.”

“No.” I grab her hand, twining my fingers with hers to lock her in, because immediately, like I knew she would, she attempts to pull the limbfree. Then I inch closer until our joined hands sandwich between our bodies and the ball of her shoulder presses to my arm. “It was my gift to you. And we’re at a wedding. It’s appropriate that you would wear it here.”

“Not so appropriate.” Casting her gaze my way, she looks me up and down with what may be the beginnings of a sneer. Though it’s hard to tell, because she’s so irrevocably sunny and bright. Even when she’s pissed, she can barely swipe the kindness from her eyes. “Considering you’ve yet to tell me the story of the Malone emeralds.”

“You know the story.” Distracted when my phone vibrates again, I reach into my pocket and drag the device out to scan the screen.

Two texts from a guy I pay good money to follow things up for me.

‘He’s made a mess, Boss. They want payment before he leaves.’

Then,‘I paid Sarge on his behalf and settled the debt. But he’s getting noisy. I know you’re busy, so until I hear differently, I’ll stash him away and sober him up.’

“For fuck’s sake.”

I speak during a lull in the wedding vows, drawing focus. Not only Aubree’s displeased side eye, but a raised brow and silentwhat the fuckfrom Felix.

“Sorry.” I drop the phone into my pocket and squeeze Aubree’s hand a little tighter. A reinforcement that she’s right here with me. Safe and sound, despite whatever is happening in Copeland. Then I nod at the priest. “You can continue. I’ll be quiet.”

“You’re being rude,” Aubree whispers. Leaning closer, almost plastering her chest to my arm to get closer to my ear. God forbid she interrupts the nuptials of the guy she doesn’t even like. Smirking, she has fun with the fact I’m stuck. Here. In a wedding I can’t escape, mid-vows I can’t speak through, with a woman I’d kill for, though I’d also chew my own arm off to escape her.

Because she deserves so much fucking better than to love a Timothy Malone.

Not the first. Not the second. And despite the cycles being broken, she deserves better than the third, too.

Unfortunately for us both, I love her. She loves me. And we’re both fucking doomed to the fate set into motion almost a hundred years ago.

“Your phone keeps buzzing,” she whispers, “and you want so badly to leave this room. You have a date waiting for you in the hall?”

“You’re my date. I asked you to be my plus one.”

“Actually no, you didn’t. Minka said, ‘if I have to wear a stupid golden gownin a stupid city I already escaped once, then Emeri’s coming too. As her boss, this is my professional decision.’” Leaning forward, she catches my peripheries. “You didn’t ask me out, Malone. You accepted orders like the good little soldier you are.”

I grit my teeth and squeeze her hand, though I control the pressure before I crush the bones in her palm. “A soldier?”

She wrinkles her nose, like this is all a fucking game to her. “You aren’t Felix. Means you’re a foot soldier. And since this is the first time I’ve been in this city at the same time as you, I can’t help but notice everyone listens tohim. Not you.”

She lies… sort of.

“In Copeland, he’s annoying. But in New York, seems like he’s kind of a big deal. Maybe I gave my heart to the wrong brother.”

“Listen, Linda.” Felix stop-signs the priest and pins us with a glare. Because I guess there’s a limit to Felix’s tolerance, and right now, we’ve stepped on it. “I like you too, Doctor Cutie. And this wholehippie sunshine foofoothing you have going on is so sweet it makes my teeth ache. But can you stop taunting him for a second and let me declare my love to Christabelle?” He wraps his hand across the side of Christabelle’s neck and drags her in to plant a kiss on the center of her lips. It’s long. Noisy. And wildly inappropriate. But it has his bride flushing red and Cato uncomfortably clearing his throat. Then he brings his focus back to us, smirking and wiping a smudge of red lipstick off the corner of his lips. “Cut the shit. Be quiet. I’m about to sayI do, and it would mean a lot to me if I could do it without listening to you two flirt with each other in the background.”

“We’re not flirting.” Undignified, Aubree straightens out and tries again to peel her hand from mine. “I was telling him I want off this ride.”

“Your pants are on fire, Doctor Derrière. Now shush.” He pulls his focus back to Christabelle, flashes a playful grin, then looks at the priest. “Keep going.”

“I wasn’t flirting,” Aubree murmurs. “And I’m done with this.” She flicks her wrist, attempting to escape me. “Let me go.”

“No.”

I think of the texts I’ve fielded today. The phone calls. The fucking mess, waiting for us back in Copeland. Then I tune in to the priest’s, ‘Do you take this woman to be your…blah blah blah?’ Reinforcing my hold, wrapping her tiny hand in my overlarge palm, and pressing the fused bundle to my heart, I listen to every word spoken and ignore everyone else in the room except me and her.

Because she hates me. But she loves me. She’s sick of my shit. And she’s terrified of being vulnerable again. But hell, I know her heart beats for me just as surely as mine does for her.

I swore I would always keep her safe. So here, today, and forevermore, I honor that promise and do what needs to be done.

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