Page 20 of Dukes of Peril

I muster up every ounce of courage I have left, more than it took to walk into that club tonight and face Maddox, to stride into the room.

Lavinia is only just pulling the shirt over her head.

“Oh,” she says, stretching it over her thighs. Her cheeks are a bright, vivid pink. “I didn’t know you were back. H-how did it go?”

I’d called as I was leaving Underworld to give them an update–let them know I was alive and unmangled-so she already knows the gist. Still, I say, “Just waiting on the signal.”

“Oh, good,” she rushes out, looking painfully uncomfortable. “I worried maybe–oh, god!” In a flash, she’s against me, fingers pushing up my chin. “Sy, you’re bleeding!”

I shudder at the feel of her fingers on my skin, reaching up to gently pry her wrist away. “It’s fine, it’s just–”

“Your throat is cut,” she gasps, wide-eyed and… yeah. Definitely pissed off. “That son of a bitch! He said no violence, and–he totally lied!”

Snorting, I remind her, “So did I.” Before that flame in her eyes can evolve to something impulsive and destructive, I explain, “It’s just a scratch. In no universe is Maddox single-handedly overpowering me.”

Huffing, she grabs a handful of my shirt and orders, “Come on.” I let her drag me toward the bathroom. I’d let her drag me anywhere when she’s like this, all rumpled and sex-sated, irritated and bossy. She swipes a washcloth from a bundle above the sink and goes about wetting it. “Did you at least hit him a little?” she mutters.

“No.” My eyes dip to the backs of her thighs. Briefly, I wonder if my brother’s cum is trickling downward. “I cut him back, though.”

In the reflection of the mirror, she flashes me an impish smirk. “Good.” When she turns to me, I stand still, eyelids slouching lower as she blots gingerly at the cut. “I don’t think it’ll need stitches,” she sighs, her fingers soft on my skin. “Maybe there’s some bandaids in–”

“Can I ask you something?”

Her expression turns wary, but she nods. “Sure.”

The words tumble around my brain, so easy but so hard. Nick or Remy wouldn’t even have to ask, they’d just assume. “Fuck,” I mutter, running my hand through my hair, feeling like an idiot.

“Sy?”

My eyes snap to hers. “Shit. Right.” I swallow, my skin bursting into flames. “Dinner. Tomorrow night.”

Her head tilts. “Dinner?”

“I mean, we should go, right?”

She nods. “Yeah, I definitely need some real food.”

“Good,” I say, taking a step back. “Good.”

I leave before I can ruin it. Say something–do something–to make her change her mind. Before I fuck it up.

4

Lavinia

Sy getsthe call at three in the morning.

The hit on Nick has been removed.

What Maddox used to convince my father is unknown, but that’s not a surprise. The Baron King is the master of secrets. The Kings go way back, decades now. The dirt and literal dead bodies they must have on one another is enough for a landfill.

The ride back to the tower is spent in a complicated silence. Sy is pushing at the edges of exhaustion. I keep darting glances to his reflection in the rearview, checking how alert his eyes are. Beside him, in the passenger seat, Nick looks relaxed, knees spread, head tipped back against the seat as his thumbs fly over his phone screen. I guess three rounds of sex–once in bed, once on the couch after we woke up, and once in the shower before our departure–plus the knowledge that he’s no longer kill-on-sight, tends to put a guy into a lax state. Nevertheless, I can tell he’s being watchful of a tail, eyes flicking to each mirror, head occasionally twisting to check the side streets.

Remy, however, is slumped in the backseat beside me. His arms are wrapped tight around his body, which radiates discomfort and tension. Every now and then he’ll turn his head, watching me, but every time I glance over to meet his gaze, he just gives me this stiff little bullshit smile.

He looks like he’s going to hurl.

I inch to the left.

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