Page 15 of King of Depravity

“This town gets smaller by the day,” Dimitri drawls as he looks at Triston, who has slid into a chair at the table.

I move to fill Triston’s glass, but he puts his hand out, covering the top. I’m about to move on, when Dimitri speaks. “Fill his glass, Chloe. I insist.”

“Of course,” I answer, even as Alexander shoots his entire glass back, slapping it on the tabletop for me to refill.

Triston removes his hand, and I fill it with a short pour, then move on to Rush’s and Ryker’s glasses. Leaning over the table, I fill Alexander’s again. But I’ve only just finished when he grabs my wrist. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday,” he starts, his eyes stormy in a way that makes my breath catch.

“Leave it, Alex,” Dimitri commands.

Alexander’s mouth snaps shut and he releases my hand, but his glare assures me he isn’t happy.

The Smiths have been silent, but as I leave to bring Killian his drink, I hear Triston say, “My apologies if we’ve trodden on your preferred establishment. I’d only heard the music was good, but now I understand it’s likely because you’re playing.”

All the Russians laugh. I shake my head. I guess Triston got all the charm in the family.

Stopping at Killian’s table, he glares at me too. “Did that motherfucker just touch you?”

My brows lift as I set down his whisky and his glass of water. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. But I am curious about why your family has made an appearance.”

He grunts. “Checking on me. Assessing you. They don’t trust me, but I think they’re learning all the ways they’ve been mistaken.” He waves at the Russian’s table. I don’t know what he means but I’m not asking.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Yeah. For you to suck my cock.”

I blink at him, my mouth hanging open. To my own shock, my answer isn’t one of disgust and I don’t feel the normal skitter of fear that always accompanies a sexual advance. “There is no way that thing will fit in my mouth.”

He laughs then, the husky chuckle vibrating through me and settling between my legs. “It’ll fit.”

“You have to know I’m not giving you a blowjob.”

“Is there a price?” He leans back in his chair, looking curious. Hungry.

“I’m not a prostitute.” I huff, honestly more offended by that question than his initial request.

“I could make you,” he cocks his head, gauging my reaction.

For a split second the fear hits me again. But I swallow it down. “But then you’d have to take that sensitivity training.” I turn to leave when he wraps a hand around my thigh.

“It would be worth it.”

“Killian,” I hiss, pulling away. “Last night was a one-time thing, I…”

“It was not.”

“It was,” I turn, heading for my next table.

The night passes in a blur. The Smiths stay with the Russians, Killian remains hidden in his corner. I do my normal dance on my heels, the tips rolling in. At this rate, I’ll have a good head start on next month’s tuition bill.

After I take a quick bathroom break, I come out of the bathroom to find Killian waiting for me just outside the door.

“Go away,” I huff, trying to shrug past him.

“No,” he answers, trapping me against the wall in a cage of his arms.

“I’m not going to be your whore, Killian,” I say, trying to duck under his arm. That’s when he pushes his chest against mine, pinning me.

The coffee shop today, even the conversation about blowjobs had felt more…normal and less sinister.

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