Kings of Blood and Money (Underworld Kings)

It’s chilly when I step outside. I wish I wore a cardigan. Mist dances across the pool. The trees rustle, swaying in the breeze, murmuring to each other. I maneuver around the pool, pushing myself up against the pool house, peering in through the window. My breathing fills my ears, warming a patch on the window. Remi is smoking a cigarette, looking out of a back window into the trees. There’s no sign of his girlfriend, so I slip inside.

“What does it taste like?” I ask his silhouette.

He startles, almost knocking a lamp off a table on his right. “Shit, you scared me,” he gasps, then chuckles, holding a hand to his chest, the smoke billowing around him like a cloud.

It smells odd. Not like a normal cigarette. I move closer and ask again, “What does it taste like?”

Holding it up, he winces. “Ash, mostly. You wouldn’t like it. It’s not good for you. It helps with my headaches.” He pinches the end between his fingers and points to the scar on his forehead. My eyes drift there. I’ve always wanted to ask him what happened, but part of me is too afraid of the answer. I know our lives intertwined through something horrible. My fingers trace my scar, a thin white line across the left side of my throat. Our scars bond us.

“I saw you with that girl.” My words came out accusatory. I quickly cover with a smile. Crossing my arms, I lean against the wall beside him.

Raising a brow, he wets his lips, swiping a bit of tobacco off the tip of his tongue. His eyes twinkle mischievously. “Oh yeah? Been spying on me, have you?”

Yes.

“No,” I balk, my face dropping to my bare feet.

His finger against my skin just beneath my jaw causes goosebumps to sprinkle up my arms. “I’m just playing, kid,” he says, lifting my face to see his. I don’t want to be a kid right now. I want to be the girl he spent the day with by the pool. I’m thirteen now. The gap between us is closing, even if he doesn’t think so.

“What’s that like?” My words tumble from my lips.

Throwing his cigarette out the window, the soft amber glow disappearing into the trees, he folds his arms over his chest, resting a shoulder against the wall to mimic my pose. “You mean kissing?” His brow furrows.

Kissing.

It looks like they enjoy it. What would it taste like on my lips? “You guys do it a lot.” I shrug.

He flashes his teeth, a brilliant smile brightening his entire face. “It feels good. When you’re old enough, you’ll find out for yourself,” he assures me, tapping my nose with the knuckle of his finger. “Come on. Let’s get back inside before Noah finds us and bitches us out.”

Noah.

The name alone makes my stomach drop. “Why is he so different to you?”

“How so?” he asks, moving toward the exit.

“Mean.” So, freaking mean.

Sighing, he says, “Maybe he needs to smoke and kiss some girls.”

Is kissing that powerful?

Following him past the pool toward the double doors, I take a couple of deep breaths, then ask, “Will you show me?” The color drains from my face the moment the words are out.

He stops walking, that brow once again coming down to make his eyes squint. “Show you what?”

My heart thunders in my chest. “What it feels like to kiss?” I bite my lip, clutching my hands together in front of me.

His eyes spring wide with surprise. He studies me with unwavering intensity before chuckling and shaking his head. My cheeks heat. I feel silly and rejected. Attempting to pretend I didn’t just humiliate myself, I begin walking away from him to hide back in my room when he clasps my wrist, pulling me back. His eyes are so bright, they look like stars pulled straight from the night sky.

Before I can say anything, he jerks me against his hard body, strong arms encasing me, and holds me. I tense. The warmth of his body against mine is unnatural to me. I don’t know if I’ve ever been held, been this close to another person before. He smells of rain and cigarettes.

My arms slowly encircle his waist, and a sigh breezes past my lips as tears burn the corners of my eyes. It’s nice, so nice, I wish he would never let me go, but he does. Cold air replaces his warmth, and he ruffles my hair. “One day, you’ll be old enough. If you still want me to show you then, I will,” he tells me, and my stomach fills with butterflies.

He disappears inside ahead of me, and I wait, listening to his feet pad the stairs and his door to close before I go to the kitchen to get a glass of water, my face burning, a ridiculous smile hurting my cheeks. I don’t bother to turn the lights on, hoping not to disturb anyone. The moon offers a blue hue to the room, enough light for me to see the cabinet where the glasses are kept. The fridge has an ice dispenser that creaks as it fills my glass. The glass is only half full when a voice speaks from the corner of the room.