Page 70 of The Kings
Eliza gazes into my eyes. There’s a new intensity there that wasn’t present before. “Dad’s not picking up, so I can’t even ask the question. But my gut is telling me he is my brother. Orhalf-brother, I guess.” She leans into me, seeking assurance. “Fuck.” The word is a sigh against my chest, and I feel the tension bleed from her muscles. She melts into me, allowing herself this moment of vulnerability.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur into her hair, breathing in her scent. It feels like a beginning—something raw and real between us that neither bullet nor blade can touch.
“Thanks for listening,” Eliza mumbles against my shirt, her voice steadier now.
“Anytime,” I say. This is the breakthrough we needed, a shift in the game where, for once, I’m not just another player—I’m her partner in the truest sense.
No force on earth could stop my next move. I lean in, my lips brushing hers softly, a question and an answer all at once. There’s no turning back now, not when this kiss tastes like rebellion and feels like coming home.
She responds hesitantly at first, but then with a passion that tells me she’s just as caught up in this moment as I am. Our kiss deepens, and it’s like we’re both starved for this connection, for this exposed, desperate need to feel something other than the cold touch of steel and the bitter tang of betrayal.
Her body presses against mine, all curves and heat, and I’m lost in the sensation. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer.
This isn’t about duty or power plays; it’s about Eliza and me and the fire that’s been smouldering between us since the day we met.
We forget the danger lurking outside these walls, forget the eyes that are always watching, waiting for a sign of weakness. In this kiss, there is only strength.
33
ELIZA
“Your dad’s here.”
Raph’s voice comes through the closed door. James’s lips leave mine in surprise, and I leap off the bed. This means trouble or business, and in our world, they’re often the same fucking thing.
“Shit,” I mutter, yanking the door open and coming face-to-face with Raph and his raised eyebrow as he sees James right behind me. “Any ideas?”
“I’m guessing it’s about the shitshow at his house. He also brought a gift.” He beams, which is fucking weird and a little bit frightening.
“Okay,” I murmur and take the stairs slowly, the familiar weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders like a cloak. I’m the heir to this empire of shadows and blood, and if he’s here without warning, it’s because something has or is about to go to hell.
Reaching the bottom of the staircase with the four Kings behind me, I narrow my eyes at Dad.
He is dressed, as usual, in a black shirt and suit, impeccably turned out, but the guy on his knees at his feet, head bowed, is unexpected.
“Dad.”
“Elizabeth.”
“What are you doing here, and why withhim?”
“Reasons. This fucker…” He kicks Grenville in the back, and he faceplants on the cold marble. “… is a peace offering.”
“For what?”
His gaze flicks over the guys, and Raphael steps forward, getting the hint that they need to leave.
“I will take this piece of shit downstairs. Join us when you’re done.” He hauls Grenville to his feet, and the guys disappear, leaving me alone with Dad, staring at each other with a sense of awkwardness that I dislike intensely. That’s not who we are.
“Since when do we gift-wrap assholes and call it peace?” I spit out, my confusion morphing into suspicion.
“You’ve got bigger questions to ask.”
“No shit. Well? Do I need to ask, or are you going to spill the brother beans?”
“Brother…”
“That’s what he is, isn’t he?”
