Brutal Prince (Brutal Birthright)

“Got it!” she says triumphantly.

“I can buy you a new purse,” I tell her.

“I know,” she says.

I’m about to start the engine, but there’s something I can’t wait another second to do, either.

I grab Aida and I kiss her, tasting blood and smoke on her lips.

I kiss her like I’ll never let her go.

Because I won’t. Not ever.

29

Aida

Callum and I turn onto the main road right as the fire truck comes roaring up the lane, headed for the Castle’s beach house—or what’s left of it, anyway.

I can see the firemen’s faces as our car passes their truck—they’re looking down at us, eyebrows raised, but unable to stop us fleeing the scene.

“What a fucking trip!” I shout, my heart still galloping like a racehorse. “Did you know Ollie was that crazy? I thought he was just normal crazy, like ‘I don’t want my food to touch,’ or ‘talking to yourself in the shower’ crazy, not like full-out Shining.”

Callum is driving way too fast, hands locked on the steering wheel. Improbably, he’s grinning almost as much as I am. Could my uptight husband actually be starting to enjoy our adventures?

“I can’t believe I found you,” he says.

“Yeah, holy shit! Did you find my shoe?”

“Yes, I found it! And I remembered.”

He looks over at me, his blue eyes brilliant against his smoky skin. I don’t know how I ever thought his eyes were cold. They’re fucking beautiful. The most stunning eyes I’ve ever seen.

Even more striking is the fact that he understood me, that he remembered our conversation. It almost means more to me than the fact that he came to rescue me.

“Actually, I’ve got the other one in here somewhere,” Cal says, twisting around to search the back seat.

“Eyes on the road!” I tell him. I find the sneaker a minute later, slipping it back on my foot. It’s comically cleaner than the other now, so they no longer look like a matching set.

“There,” I say. “Fully dressed again.”

Cal’s eyes alight on my bare left hand.

“Not entirely,” he says.

“Oh, fuck,” I say angrily. “I forgot about that.”

“Is it back at the house?” Cal asks.

“Yes. But Oliver smashed it.”

“I don’t think it would have survived either way,” Cal says. He squeezes my thigh with his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I wanted to get you another anyway. You know I didn’t pick that one out.”

“I know,” I grin. “I’m getting to know Imogen’s taste pretty well.”

Cal turns onto the highway, heading north toward the city again.

“You better call your brothers,” he says. “They thought Zajac stole you.”