Kings of Blood and Money (Underworld Kings)

His dark hair falls across his forehead as he stalks me around the pool. I move to the middle, my legs kicking. My tummy flips when the floor drops away and I have to tread water. “How long do you think you can last?” he taunts, dipping his hand into the water and splashing me with it. I’m already tiring.

I make a dash for the opposite side and brace my arms on the edge, lifting myself out. I quickly get to my feet, my legs a little shaky. His head tilts, eyes narrowing to slits. His arms are locked behind his back, and the lights from the pool cast an eerie blue ripple up his body.

The Remington twins are stunning to look at. Remi is like a hero straight from a teen movie, and Noah…well, Noah is the dark villain.

It’s my move. He’s daring me without words. Flitting my gaze to the watch on the table mere feet from him, my heart sinks. I’m going to have to leave it. Following my gaze, he looks down at the table, his jaw going rigid. He scoops up the watch and looks it over, then his rage-filled eyes cut through to something behind me.

“What’s going on?” Father’s voice is cold, firm.

“I just found your pet swimming in our pool like an unwanted rodent infestation,” Noah snaps, closing his fist around the watch and taking it with him as his long strides eat up the space around the pool.

No.

Before he can disappear into the house, Father stops him with a hand to his chest. “You’re to stay away from her—from each other. Do I make myself clear?”

Cold air blasts against my wet skin, but it’s their exchange that makes me shiver.

“No, you haven’t made anything clear, like why the hell she’s still here. You can’t just replace Rose with a Gallo bitch.”

Father’s face clouds. He grabs Noah by the collar of his shirt and jams him against the wall. “Stop. Now.”

Nerves jump around inside me, fear churning my stomach.

Noah swings his arm up and over, crashing through Father’s hold. He shoves at his chest, but Father’s too strong, too big. “Be careful, Noah. Don’t go thinking you’re grown, boy,” Father warns. Noah’s eyes slice to me before he stalks away into the house.

“Freya, go to your room.” His voice is strained.

“Who is Rose?” I ask, my throat burning, a lump wedged there.

“Go to your room, Freya.” He can’t look at me.

“What’s a Gallo?” I sob. It feels familiar, like I should know what it means.

“Freya!” he bellows, pointing his finger upward. “Go to your room. Now.”

I dart past him and up the stairs, ignoring Noah’s open bedroom door. Slamming my door closed, I go straight to the shower, blasting the water and plunging myself beneath so I don’t give Noah the satisfaction of hearing my pain.

Seven

Freya

Flitting my eyes down to the pool, a tinge of jealousy thrums through me. Remi is down there with his new girlfriend. Again.

She’s beautiful. Blonde hair the color of sand. Her body fills out her two-piece the way I want mine to.

Their laughter filters up to my balcony. She’s laying on top of him on a lounger, kissing his lips. I wish so badly to be down there. Midnight purrs against my thigh, slipping onto my lap. Stop watching them, Freya. You’re being a creep.

Reading the page of my book for the fifth time and still not taking it in, I close it, pluck up Midnight, and go inside, placing him on the end of the bed. I head to the shower to distract myself, staying in there until the water turns cold. When I get out, I towel off, slip on some PJs, and drag a brush through my hair. It’s a nightmare. My hair is so thick and long now, it takes ages to get the knots out.

Dumping the brush, I can’t help snooping and find myself going back to the balcony. It’s quiet out there now, but a glimmer of light comes from the pool house. Did they go in there because they caught me watching?

I’m thirsty. I could go down for some water and just wander out there and take a little peek. I haven’t been swimming since Noah argued with father over me. I don’t ever want him to catch me out there again, vulnerable in the water. I wouldn’t put it past him to drown me. I never did get the watch back. “You stay here, Midnight,” I tell my cat, who has a leg in the air, licking himself.

The house, like always, is quiet as I tiptoe through the dark halls. I pass the study, noting the door is closed, which only happens when Father is in there working. Steeling my reservations, I surge past the study into the dining room. The door’s already open, a gentle breeze cooling the air in here.