Page 12 of Choices

What are the chances of that little prick being at the club? We need to get him out as quietly as possible and hope the bastard doesn’t find his way back here or remember coming in the first place. Moving through the room, I stalk toward Kitty, her aura drawing me in like a magnet to metal.

I thought she’d be above the petty shit of flaunting some prick in front of me, yet here she is, her hand on his chest, giggling like he’s the funniest fucker in the world. As much as it pains me to admit, perhaps last night really did mark the end of our fucked-up story. That’s what I want to happen—whatneedsto happen.

Either way, one thing was for sure: I’d rather see her alone forever than with the likes of Nicolas Carnell.

A growl crawls up my throat, a simmering rage bubbling like lava beneath my skin. He’s beneath her. We both are. Chatter and laughter fill the air while rock music rumbles throughspeakers mounted in every corner of the room. Bodies writhe. Daddy is actively fucking a redhead on top of the bar. Mad Micky, an old timer who used to work as a hired killer, plays pin finger with Green, his blade stabbing with precision and speed between each spread finger, leaving notches of chipped wood. This place isn’t for the faint of heart. You need guts and an invite if you want to party with the Kings, and this pissant had neither.

I step toward Kitty with predatory intent, a sick zap of satisfaction spiking within me when she physically reacts to my approach, jerking with the temptation to take off running. “Don’t fucking do it,” I mouth. Her lips part. Heat blossoms across her cheeks. So beautiful.So fucking mine.

As I grip her wrist heat sears up my arm, spreading like wildfire to my cock, arousing it from slumber. Why do I want her so bad? It’s a compulsion. Fucked-and-chucked her less than twenty-four hours ago, yet a few apologetic words whispered into her ear, and she’d be back in my bed at my mercy. I’m a piece of shit.

The words sit on the tip of my tongue, but if I act on it, I don’t think I’ll ever stop. And keeping her tied to me in secret, not letting her experience what it’s like to have a man who flaunts her like the treasure she is, is cruel. I’m no saint. I’ve been cruel too many times in my life, but not to her.

Fuck, why does she have to be Callan’s sister?

Fate is a sadist.

She squirms like her skin is too tight for her bones as I drag her away from Nicolas, who’s already moving to the next warm body. I manage to get her into the hallway before she tugs her arm free. She folds them over her chest and winces, dropping her hold, a pained hiss slipping from her lips.

“What’s wrong?” Adrenaline pulses in my veins. Did that motherfucker hurt her? Doesn’t matter what last name he carries; he’ll be put to ground.

“Nothing. What do you want?” Irritation wraps around her words, and I don’t like it aimed at me one fucking bit.

“You acted like you were in pain. Did he do something to you?”

She rolls her eyes, sucking in a big breath that makes her tits swell. “Don’t act like a meathead, Cutter. You’re not my man, remember?”

Like I can forget.

“You’re still one of us and Callan’s little sister.” I attempt to act nonchalant, but she can read the fury in my eyes. It matches her own.

“So you keep pointing out.”

“Tell me why you winced,” I ask, ignoring the barb.

“Tell me why you care?” Her eyes widen, jaw firm.

“Don’t do that,” I sneer, showing my teeth.

“Do what?”

“Be bratty. It doesn’t suit you.” Damn, she has a fire that draws me to it like a moth.

“Fuck you,” she spits out, spinning on her heel to make a break for it.

Grabbing her arm, I halt her movements and growl, “Do you know who you brought here?” Kitty is a force, more mature than her years and not afraid to be herself, but she’s also a little naive to think she could bring whoever the fuck she wants into the club. All non-member men inevitably get challenged by a brother if they’re brave enough to enter these doors.

“Nicolas?” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder, her brow dipping low.

“Nicolas Carnell, Kitty.” I punch out her name like it’s a dirty word.

“So what?” Blonde strands of hair rustle around her face with a shake of her head. She really is clueless as to why that would be an issue.

“Michael has men out looking for him. He’s off the rails and a liability. He can’t be here, Kit.” I’m practically standing over her, boxing her in. Her fat, pouty lips beg to be kissed as she swipes her tongue out to wet them.

Tease.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.”

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