Page 35 of The Queen
She’s my rhythm, my reason, my fucking ecstasy. It’s dark and dirty and perfect.
Then it hits me, an explosion of sensation obliterating every thought except her name. I come hard, releasing deep inside her in hot, fierce spurts, my body shaking as I collapse onto her, panting like I’ve just run a fucking marathon.
Eliza’s lips catch mine in a searing kiss, her eyes glinting with that wildfire I know so well by now. She grins, the kind of smile that promises trouble and teases pleasure, all rolled into one. Her chestnut waves brush against my face as she shoves me back, breaking the connection we just burned through.
Watching as she pulls her joggers up, she stands, her movements fluid like the fighters she grew up sparring with. There’s grace in her steps, a Queen walking away from her conquered land.
I stay there, sprawled on the couch, heat still pulsing through my veins. I can’t tear my gaze away from her; she’s got this presence, this power that locks you in place, and god, I’m locked, chained, fucking bewitched.
With a slow smile, she walks out, hips swaying with confidence, leaving me floored, panting, and utterly obsessed. Eliza Hughes—she’s the kind of trouble you chase knowing it’ll destroy you, but you’d burn your world down just to get caught in her flames again.
17
RAPHAEL
My phone buzzesin my pocket, pulling me out of the lecture on international law that I’m pretending to give a crap about. I slide it out, keeping my head down as the professor drones on about treaties and sovereignty. The screen lights up with Drago’s message: Outside now.
With the professor’s back turned, I slip out quickly, shoving my phone back into my pants pocket and heading outside into the weak afternoon sun. Spotting Drago immediately loitering near an old oak tree, I stroll over and stop in front of him, arms folded, feet planted.
“What is it?”
“Could be nothing, but my gut says it’s a threat. You need to know.”
“Any ideas?”
“Can’t say for sure. Got wind of chatter mentioning the Kings and Hughes. Too close to home to ignore,” he replies.
No way am I sitting through another hour of class when there’s a shadow hanging over us. It’s time to dig deeper and find out where and who is behind this. Our little family’s got plenty of firepower, brains, and guts, but Eliza’s safety is non-negotiable. Whether this is a rumour, Lila, Felix, or any other fucker trying to take a stand, they’ll have to get through me first. I’m the only one on campus this afternoon. Lucky fuckers all had early lectures and are now lounging around the townhouse. I should interrupt them and shout a call to arms, but fuck it. Let them have their downtime. I rarely relax enough for that, always on edge, always ready for the next grenade. Dad was an asshole like that. As soon as you’d fall asleep, he’d launch something at you, and you’d better be up and ready with your fists up, or it’s a fail. And you do not want to fail Rafe Carver’s tests. Isolation and being doused in freezing cold water when you’re just a kid is a torture that goes beyond the normal mafia life. Did it help me always be on alert? Yeah, sure. But did it scar me deeply so that I can never sleep? Also sure.
Tarquin had it a bit easier, but not by much. I’m older, the one who will inherit the family business when Dad decides to hand the baton over or if he dies before that happens. It’s not out of the question, but it’s not something I’m hoping happens any time soon. I don’t hate him for what he did; I should be grateful, but being the head of a family changes things. It changes you.
The campus outside is bustling with students, all lost in their own little worlds of exams, parties, and petty family rivalry. Most don’t see the invisible lines of a battle being drawn right under their noses. They don’t need to.
With Drago trailing along behind me, looking suspicious as all fuck, I brush past them, heading towards the places where whispers turn to shouts if you listen hard enough.
I hit up my informants, low-level players who owe me favours or fear the wrath of the Carver legacy. Information is currency, and I plan to spend whatever it takes to keep Eliza safe.
“Anything weird going on?” I ask one, a twitchy kid dragging on a smoke in the corner of the north courtyard where the rough and ready hang out. He knows all the dirt.
“Man, it’s university. Weird is normal here,” he jokes, but I can tell he’s holding back as he glances at Drago.
“You trust me, you trust him.”
“Right, because he wasn’t working for David Grenville not that long ago. You seen that cunt around lately? Me either.”
“Grenville took a shot at my girl and paid the price,” I state, not even a bit worried about backlash. His Dad might be one of the underworld’s most connected fuckheads, but he is still a fuckhead, and he is scared of my dad, which means he’s scared of me. Not surprisingly. Most people are.
“Come on, Lucas, you know what I mean. Unfamiliar faces, anyone asking too many questions?”
He hesitates, glancing around before leaning in closer. “Yeah, actually. Some new guys have been poking around. Don’t fit in, you know? All hush-hush. Heard them mention Eliza once.”
“Good,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder with a bit more force than necessary. “Where did you see them?”
He nods to the south, rubbing his arm.
We move through the campus, eyes peeled for anything out of place. My phone buzzes with another tip-off from one of my contacts—a girl who works at the library. She is always buried in her books but sees everything and hangs out with Lucas on occasion.
“Meet me at the back entrance,” her message reads, short and to the point.
