Page 11 of Royal
“No, man. I’m fine.” Royal extends his fingers, then curls his hands into fists. “See?”
“Yeah, whatever. Let me at least clean your knuckles.” Wilder’s dark eyes bore into Royal’s. “Don’t make me ask again, you stubborn fuck.”
With a hard exhale, Royal walks over and reluctantly holds his hands out. Wilder doesn’t hesitate to carefully dab them with some antiseptic because if I’m being real, who knows how long Royal is going to allow this.
Scanning his features, no one would know the pain he’s in from his expression, but the air being sucked in through his teeth is audible. I wince on his behalf.
I must have a death wish because the next moment, I sputter, “So— You realize this Davis guy’s room is next to yours…”
An immediate growl sounds from deep within his chest. His green eyes flick toward mine. “Yes,” he bites out.
“And we don’t like this Davis guy.” I slick my tongue over my lower lip, attempting to gather more information. Any little piece might be helpful, yet I don’t want to pry. It’s one of the things we are made to agree to when we arrive at SIN. Keep your fucking nose out of everyone’s business unless they offer up information. As it is, it’s a fine line I’m dangerously close to crossing… yet I can’t seem to stop myself. “Just want to make sure I know—we know—what we’re dealing with.” My eyes travel to Wilder who confirms he’s on the same page with a bob of his head.Thank fuck.
“Davis doesn’t like me either. It’s complicated.” A shutter falls behind Royal’s eyes, effectively ending the conversation.
Might be complicated, and he may not want to dwell on it, but there’s no way in fuck this is the last issue we’ll have with Davis. Or Echo. My chest clenches violently at the thought of her. Of being near her. Of wanting to get as close as I can.
* * *
Sunday evening,I creep along outside Echo’s bathroom window, a black ski mask pulled down over my face. My dick is steadily hardening, and a wild feeling shoots through me, slicking its way into the blood pumping through my veins and worming into the depths of my bones. This time, the Sin Keeper has done me a solid. There’d been a black envelope on my pillow when I went back to my room after the Davis and Royal uproar.
That’s all the card said. I assume the Sin Keeper is referring to Echo because I can’t think of any other “her” that he could possibly mean. I rarely question him because from the beginning, he’s known me better than I know myself. He seems aware that she’s the sole female of importance in my life at this point in time and has conveniently given me instructions that line up with my own agenda.Watch her like you did the rest.In my gut, I know what he’s referring to, so for now, I’ll do what he’s asking and what Royal has requested—I’ll watch her.
Echo has had my attention from the start with her glorious crown of dyed-red hair and those sparkling green eyes. The moment she showed up next door, I’d felt something, felt her in a way I don’t with most—just with the special ones. She’s not the first. But maybe she’ll be the last.
I’ve been anxious for another reason to get closer. Now, with the Sin Keeper’s permission, I have proof that she’s mine for the taking.
Standing in front of a full-length mirror, she holds up a sparkly black skirt and a teeny, tiny teal-hued bra top covered in sequins. My brow pinches together. Now, this is interesting. The outfit she’s holding to her slim body is not Echo’s style at all. After meeting her at the bonfire and watching her last night, I know her well enough to understand she’s more of a shorts-and-tank-top girl. Or maybe a dress? Sweet, but with a little bit of edge thrown in. The flashy hair and black—or maybe it’s a deep blue—nail polish speaks to a darker side. In any case, the glittery shit is totally not her. And from the look on her face, she’s not exactly happy about it.
Echo glances to the side, as if someone else is in the room with her. Whoever it is isn’t visible from where I’m spying. I can’t quite make out much of the conversation, but I think I heard the word “cheeks.” And from the looks of that skirt, I could easily surmise that she’s worried about her ass hanging out. My eyes travel the length of her body.Fucking perfect.Doesn’t matter what she wears. But why the outrageous outfit? Seems like someone’s helping her dress.
She shakes her head at whatever’s being said, and with her position, I can make out the anxious expression sliding over her features. Listening to whomever is just out of my line of sight, she finally nods in reluctant agreement.
I think they must be gone now, as she sets the outfit on the counter before covering her face for a few seconds. My heart tugs, twisting as if it’s a creature ready to find a way to escape from behind the prison of my rib cage.
As I watch, she peels off her Florence and the Machine T-shirt, then shimmies out of her shorts. My head lolls back, and my eyes shut ever so briefly before I can’t stand not watching. That ass, oh my god. Her back is to me, but honestly, I have the perfect view, especially when she flicks open the clasp on her bra. It slides down her arms, and I allow my thirsty eyes to wander to the mirror where I can see the beautiful handfuls of flesh adorning her chest.
I endure strike after strike of lust zapping down my spine and stiffening my cock. Just here to watch. Taking one slow breath after another, I seek to calm myself. But… I can’t. My hand skims down the front of my shirt, meeting the desperate outline of my erection. A breath gusts from me as I watch in rapt fascination as Echo ties the strings of the skimpy bra top at her neck and back, then steps into the tiny skirt. Bending at the waist and giving me a fucking tantalizing glimpse of her upper thighs, she slips on a pair of strappy heeled sandals. I lift a clenched fist to my mouth and bite on my knuckle. Fuck me. So goddamn perfect. She’s the one.
From the front of the house, there’s a commotion that grabs both my attention and Echo’s as well. As she begins to move toward her bedroom, presumably to check out what’s happening, I give her one last longing look before I slip to the side of the house to peer around the corner toward the white covered porch with fancy pillars.
A brunette of about average size stands at the door, practically coming out of her skin while she waits for someone to answer. My honest assessment is that she’s a sweaty mess with her long hair piled on top of her head in a haphazard bun but still pretty cute. Definitely not a TZE sister, though. I know all of them. Who the hell is this?
My brows furrow, but I decide this odd behavior is worth paying attention to. I edge closer. When the door opens, I’m immediately confused. I swear to fuck she just asked all these girls to hand over their panties. I almost laugh aloud at the request.
Whoever answers the door laughs, and I hear her usher more TZE sisters closer. “I think you’re going to have to at least explain your request. Is this some sort of rush thing?”
A second girl mutters, “I haven’t heard of any sororities doing that.”
The panty pilferer bites her lip. “Uh. You’re right.” And then there’s a shout as another sister pushes herself into the doorway. She lunges toward this girl, wide-eyed. “Holy. Shit. Wait. You’re the girl who showed up to the Zeta Gamma party with Kingston Hawthorne.”
“That was me, yes.”
I can hear the hope in the girl’s voice. And she was with Kingston? Shew. That guy is arrogance personified… but also hotter than hell. Obviously, from the look on the few faces I can see from here, these ladies agree.
Another voice chimes in, “Oh my god. I think I remember this from last year. There were like three guys going around asking girls for their underwear. Is it that?”
“I don’t get it. Hawthorne Hall is a brotherhood. How would she be involved? It makes no sense.”
