Page 30 of The Kings
“Boys,” I start, my voice slicing through their hushed tones, “I’ve got something to say.”
Raphael straightens in his chair, Tarquin’s lips twitch into a half-smile, and James tilts his head, eyes narrowing. Oliver stands close, as if he can’t bear to pull away. The kiss was that good, and the fact that it ended there was something akin to a miracle.
“Here’s the deal,” I say, looking at each of them. “I need your guns, your guts, and, most importantly, your loyalty. We form an ironclad alliance—not just for my sake, but for the survival and triumph of us all.”
Their expressions are a mixed deck—curiosity, interest, and desire. But beneath it all, I see the beginning flickers of unity that could ignite into a blaze.
Raphael’s eyebrow arches as our gazes collide. It’s the first time he has really looked at me since I got here. He leans back, arms crossing over his chest in a clear challenge.
“Eliza,” he drawls, voice smooth as silk but with an edge that could cut glass. “Why the sudden desire to align? Why should The Kings bind themselves to you?”
“Raphael,” I say, my tone even, “it’s not about whims. It’s about survival. The strength we have individually is formidable, but together?” I pause for a fraction, letting the words sink in. “Together, we become a force no one can reckon with. We create a legacy that will outlive us all.”
His blue eyes hold mine, searching, probing for any sign of weakness. But I give him nothing but the raw truth.
“Think about it. We’ve got the muscle, the brains, and the guts to truly rule Castle. United, we wipe out threats before they even dare to surface. We take down anyone who stands against us. No more scrambling in the shadows. We claim the throne that’s rightfully ours.”
Silence stretches between us, but I sense the intrigue.
A chuckle slices through the tension, making me feel like I’ve missed the joke as Tarquin leans forward, his azure gaze flicking over me with a heat that could scorch. “Eliza,” he drawls, mischief dancing in his eyes, “you’re not just trying to keep us close for strategy’s sake, are you? Seems like you might have other plans for having all of The Kings wrapped around your little finger.”
The laughter is easy on his lips, and despite the weight of the moment, the corners of my mouth twitch upwards.
“Tarquin,” I shoot back, deflecting with a tease, “you wish.” But his flirtation serves as a reminder - beneath our rough edgesand dangerous liaisons, there’s an undercurrent of something more, something that binds us beyond power plays.
Before the banter can spiral away from my rather ham-fisted proposal, James’s voice, a low timbre that commands its own sort of attention, cuts in. “You’ve thought this over?”
“Yes,” I say, meeting his solid gaze. “It’s about carving out a kingdom where each of us can thrive. Not just survive, but reign supreme. You all know who I am and what is expected of me. None of you know that I will do anything to live up to that expectation and surpass it so that I’m me and not my father’s daughter. But I can’t do that alone, and I sure as shit can’t do that with little pricks like David Grenville buzzing around my head like a fucking irritating gnat.”
The idea hangs heavy in the air, potent and promising. The game is changing, and with these men by my side, I’m ready.
Oliver steps closer, and the light catches the steely edge in his eyes. “I’ve watched you manoeuvre through every obstacle thrown your way,” he starts, his voice a low rumble that resonates with conviction. “You don’t just step up; you’re always ten paces ahead. That’s why this alliance will be our ace.”
A smirk lifts the corner of my mouth as I watch him, feeling the weight of his gaze like the kiss we shared earlier.
The room’s energy shifts then, charged with contemplation. The heavy silence isn’t uncomfortable—it’s expectant, like the moment before a lightning strike. Raphael, the only one whose opinion can sway this in my favour or leave me out in the cold, leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on me. He nods once, decisively. “You lead, we follow. If I’m in, I’m all fucking in.”
My gaze lingers on his before drifting over to Tarquin. “Now, where have I heard that before?”
Tarquin’s lips curl into a grin, which I return.
James stands, the quiet strength in his posture impossible to ignore. “We’ve got your back, Eliza,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice, a steel undertone. It’s loyalty—the kind that’s been forged in fire and won’t easily break.
But it raises the question of why so quickly. Again, I feel like I’ve walked into the middle of something and haven’t fully caught up yet.
“Then it’s settled,” I say, locking eyes with each of them. “From now on, we move as one. Unstoppable.”
Raphael takes out his blade as he rises, its silver edge flashing ominously, and without hesitation, he grabs a white porcelain, ornamental bowl from the side table. He places it on the coffee table and then cuts across his palm with his knife. The crimson bead of blood drips down, staining the immaculate porcelain.
“Blood for blood,” he murmurs.
Tarquin rises and draws his own knife, repeating Raphael’s actions. “Blood for blood,” he echoes.
James, his eyes never leaving mine as he repeats the mantra, cuts his palm with a very slender stiletto that makes my mouth water. “Blood for blood,” he murmurs.
Oliver smiles, slicing his skin without flinching, and adds his blood to the mix. “Blood for blood.”
As I slowly pull out Felicity, I steadily hold my hand over the bowl. Slicing a deep wound over my left palm, my nipples peak, and my pussy goes damp. The pain is sharp, a reminder of what’s at stake. “Blood for blood,” I whisper, letting my blood fall, mingling with theirs. With these men by my side, the reign of Castle has only just begun.
