Page 38 of Brutal King

According to sources, a passerby saved the taxidermy animal from the roaring fire, but disappeared into the night before he could be thanked. His owner, Mrs. Cynthia Getty, would like to thank him personally and offer a reward. Ifyou are him, or know of the young man’s whereabouts, please contact us at…

“It’s real?” I hand him his phone back, my mind reeling. “Is it?!”

“The better question is, can you top that?”

“I—” I dig through my brain. Contrary to what he’s said, Iama good person. I know I am. Surely I have tons of good deeds to choose from. “Well, there was the time I?—”

I helped my mother with chores when I was a kid. But those don’t count. “I worked hard in school. I was obedient to my parents.”

“That was expected of you. If you didn’t meet their expectations, you weren’t rewarded with whatever it is they gave you. An allowance? Shopping? What good deed have you done for completely unselfish reasons?” He sits back and crosses his arms like me. “Take your time.”

My throat tightens with shame, more and more with every second that passes and I can’t think of a single thing. Nothing selfless, nothing without expectation. I’ve certainly never saved a stuffed dog from a fire.

“There’s…” I shake my head, still desperately searching the recesses of my oldest memories for something, anything, that will validate who I believe myself to be.

His smug grin widens. “Just as I thought. You can’t bring up a single selfless thing you’ve done, but I bet you can think of at least one bad thing.”

Yes, I can. And not just one, but many. All forgiven in the name of childish antics. But some were truly heinous, and I took pleasure in them. Like the time I put gum in Luca’s hair because he called me annoying. Or the time I replaced the sugar with salt, knowing how much Pops liked his coffee sweet. But he’d grounded me the day before because I got a tally for talking inclass. Worse yet, my most recent act of rebellion to punish Luca for trying to keep me safe.

“You found it,” he says, his tone as infuriatingly amused as ever.

“Found what?”

“The Devil inside.”

I glare at him. “Mine’s smaller than yours.”

“You have me there.” He chuckles. “I have a big one.”

He tilts his head as he studies me, his smile fading slowly. There’s something in his expression that I don’t like. It’s as if he pities me for just now learning the kind of person I am.

“Don’t feel bad for me,” I say defensively, shutting him out of my head.

“I don’t pity anyone, much less you.” Then just like that, whatever empathy there was, vanishes from his gaze. Now there’s something dark and heated in its place. He pushes away from the table and motions me to him. “You owe me a kiss.”

My heart instantly slams into my chest as I automatically lift my eyes to his lips. I haven’t allowed myself to think about the kiss he gave me the first day I arrived. Refused to recall the heat and taste of his mouth, or what it did to me.

But it all comes rushing back now and it makes me heady.

“Kiss?” I whisper dumbly.

“You lost, Little Bird. You owe me what’s due.”

Somehow, I manage to stand on shaky legs. I blink as he extends his hand to me, and it’s like an out of body experience seeing my own hand reach out. He tugs me toward him, maneuvering me onto his lap.

“Wait,” I say when he leans into me. He stops, watching me carefully. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Everything is growing hazy. “Gideon, I—” Then his mouth is on mine, cutting off any further protest.

I’m fucking lost. This man that is clearly using me as some means of revenge is kissing me. But the real horror isn’t what he’s doing. It’s that I’m kissing him back. My arms wrap around his neck and I hold him tighter, taking from him everything I need. Oxygen. Life. Desire.

As he explores my mouth, I open more for him. When his tongue slides over mine and tastes me, I taste him back. And when he crushes me harder into him, I groan.

It’s that needy sound, a cry for more, that brings me back to reality. I have a moment of clarity in which I realize how dangerous he truly is to me. From the second our eyes met, he knew. I am attracted to him. More than that, though I can’t find a word that accurately describes it. Extremely, insanely, alarmingly attracted. So much so, that I was willing to ignore the warning signs that with anyone else would have been so obvious.

The trap was easily set. He lured me like the beautiful predator he is. And me, the willingly stupid prey, I went for it.

Now look at me.

I push off him with every bit of strength I have and nearly fall of the chair. I’m panting, horrified at my helpless reaction to him.

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