Page 3 of The Kings
I’m itching to know who texted her before while she came down the stairs. It caught her attention before she dismissed it completely.
Another guy?
Or rather,aguy?
The memory of her writhing between me and the mirrored glass is as vivid as the crystal chandelier hanging overhead. The feel of her tight cunt around me, the way she clawed at my back—fuck, I’m hard again just thinking about it.
I didn’t expect it, but no way was I telling her no once she grabbed me and gave methatlook. Her emerald eyes heated up as she took in my body, my tats, the scar under my eye. She wanted me, and I’ve wanted her for a long time. She just doesn’t know it. Or me, for that matter.
She’s lit the fucking fuse, and I’m the dynamite waiting to blow.
Minutes stretch like hours, but patience is a killer’s virtue. Eliza emerges a few moments later, her hot body lingering briefly in the doorway as she glances back. The dead body in the middle of the floor, there for anyone to see, causes no hesitation in her step, no tremor in those delicate fingers with sharp nails like claws—the Hughes bloodline doesn’t flinch at death. Eliza included.
That smile, though... slow and knowing. The thrill hits me like a shot of the good stuff straight to the vein.
Her laugh floats back as she strides into the crowd, lost momentarily in a sea of tailored suits and silk dresses as she makes her way through the living room. Pushing off from the column to follow her before her old man catches up to me, I pause as I recognise a second-year student from Castle University, where I’m a third year. He is with his mate, an ugly fuck with a wicked streak, but there again, wicked is relative. He hasn’t come up against my blade yet.
They strut after her like they own the damn place—the mafia’s next gen of finest pricks, sons of nobodies trying to play somebody.
“Shitheads,” I mutter, watching them trail after Eliza like horny fucking dogs.
No one touches her.
They don’t know who they’re fucking with, but they’re about to find out.
Moving forward again, a ghost slipping through the crowd, my steps are sure and silent. Reaching back, my hand rests on the handle of the knife I carry with me everywhere—a gift from my dad and one that has seen more bloodshed than most.
Eliza steps out onto the balcony, her dark hair catching the moonlight. It is a picture of poise and power, and these idiots are about to learn what it means to covet what they can’t have.
My hand wraps around the knife’s hilt. She doesn’t see me, doesn’t even know I’m here, but one day she will. She’ll know I’m always here, a whisper away, ready to bleed for her.
“Stay the fuck away from her,” I growl, stepping up behind the leader of the two assholes and pressing my blade against his throat. His eyes go wide, probably searching for Daddy, but even his father wouldn’t fucking dare. The laughter dies in an instant, the air thick with fear.
I breathe it in with a slow smile.
“Touch her, and you die,” I murmur, no need to cause any more of a scene. They get where I’m coming from.
My grip shifts on the curved blade, hugging his throat. Every muscle in my body is tight, coiled like a spring. I’m a fucking cobra waiting for any excuse to strike, to sink my teeth into their flesh.
“Nothing to say?”
They blink at me, lost for words.
“Fair enough, but understand this: if she screams, you bleed.” My senses are electric, and every movement they make is amplified. These boys are out of their league, and if they push it, they’ll find out just how outmatched they are.
Silence descends like a guillotine as I watch them, their bravado crumbling under the weight of my stare, the feel of my blade. The leader swallows nervously, and his buddy shuffles uncomfortably on his feet. Once so obnoxious in the night air, their laughter is now a strangled memory. They glance at each other—silent questions passing between them, silent answers urging retreat.
“Fuck this,” the leader mutters. “She’s not worth it.”
“Neither are you.”
He glares at me with fury, but won’t come for me. He doesn’t have the balls.
I don’t watch them leave, couldn’t care less about those spineless shits as they disappear into the party, probably seeking shelter from their parents. Instead, my gaze shifts back to Eliza, the real reason I’m standing out here with murder in my veins. She’s oblivious to the scene that just went down. I have no doubt at all that she would eat those two pricks alive and then burn them before dancing on their ashes, but a queen shouldn’t have to.
It’s just nice to know shecould. A fucking turn on. Arousing as all shit. I want to see her make a man bleed, scream, beg for his life.
“Fuck.” I shift as my cock presses against my combat pants, hard as iron.
