Page 72 of Twisted Kings

“Morning nausea is a symptom of the first trimester in pregnancy.”

“It’s also a fucking symptom of food poisoning, and given you cooked yesterday, I’d say you’re at fault here.”

“Doyoufeel ill?”

“Well, no, but for all we know, Cass and Dario are busy heaving their guts up somewhere downstairs,” Landon huffed.

“They’re not.”

Kyril hadn’t said a word, but I felt the weight of his stare. He stroked my cheek and pulled me to my feet, curling a fist possessively around the back of my neck.

“Malyshka, are you carrying my baby?”

32

Thea

“No!” Denial was way more than a river in Egypt. “Of course not.” Using what remained of my strength, I shoved the Russian away and folded my arms. “Get the fuck out of my bathroom. All of you.”

They exchanged glances with each other and then backed out. Once the door had clicked shut, I slumped down on the floor and closed my eyes.

Yesterday was lovely. Amazing. How had it all gone to shit?

Fucking men. I should have known they’d screw up my life in all ways. Sleeping with a growly possessive Russian was always a bad idea. And knowing he had a breeding kink made my poor decision ten times worse.

If he thought I was carrying his baby, he’d never let me go, which would make tracking down my father a lot more difficult. Sure, he’d made some vague promise about ‘taking care’ of my problem. Like murdering my father and Torrance was as easy as ordering a hitman on Amazon. Pay an extra $100 for the expedited service. No mess.

If only.

My dad was no fool. He’d successfully dodged assassination attempts for years. I was the only person who could get close enough to him to get the job done. While he had Verity under his control, taking him out was never a possibility. But she was safe now.

Being knocked up made things more difficult, but I had two or three months before my pregnancy became noticeable. That was more than enough time to run back to Daddy and wait for an opportune moment to kill the bastard.

But first, I needed to talk to Eden. Sticking my head in the sand was doing me no favors. I needed to know whether the fates had conspired to fuck up my life even more. If, as I suspected, I was pregnant, then the sooner I put a plan in place to ditch the guys and find my father, the better.

Eden could take care of Verity for me. While I knew the guys would never hurt my sister, they might chase after me. And if that happened, I needed to know someone was taking care of Verity.

It was time to call my best (and only) friend.

The bedroom was thankfully empty when I left the bathroom, rumpled sheets and discarded condoms the only sign of my former bed partners.

Now that I’d successfully purged my stomach, I felt marginally better. Still mostly crappy, but no longer on the verge of hurling. I’d take that as a win.

I picked up my burner phone and hit ‘call’ on Eden’s number. She should be up by now, and if she wasn’t, tough fucking shit.

“Go dtachtfadh an diabhal thú! What the fuck time of day is this?”

“I need your help.” Eden groaned, cursed some more, and then cleared her throat.

“Oh my god, have you broken them already?”

“Broken who?” She talked in riddles half the time, and I felt like I needed Google Translate whenever we had a conversation.

“The guys. Your harem. Please tell me Landon has finally met his match.”

“Eden, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but no, they’re all in one piece.”

“OK, so if you didn’t fuck them to death or murder them in another creative way, which, by the way, would be completely fine. I mean, they all deserve some creative murdering. Especially Landon. That boy may be pretty, but he’s still an asshole. So, what’s the problem?”

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