Kings of Blood and Money (Underworld Kings)

“It’s not because you’ve done anything wrong. You haven’t.” He makes a point of dipping his gaze to the space where I was on my knees for his brother. “Freya?” I look up at him, not realizing I’d dropped my gaze in embarrassment. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t like being locked in my room,” I tell him, not wanting to dissect what happened with him.

“I know. It’s shitty. You’re not a kid anymore, so I’m going to trust you and tell you you need to stay in your room tonight, okay?”

“You won’t lock me in?”

He shakes his head. “Not if you promise.”

“Will you stay with me?”

The intensity of his gaze sends goosebumps scattering over my flesh. “Sure. Of course.”

“I used to come in here when you were away at school.” My mouth gapes, looking down at Remi laid out on my bed like it’s his own.

“What did you do in here?” My cheeks heat at the thought of him nosing through my belongings.

Pulling a pillow from behind his head, he throws it at me. “Nothing pervy, gutter brain.”

“What then?”

A shoulder shrug. “I liked your books.”

He liked my books. Just another layer that is Remi.

Wandering over to my bookshelf, I stroke the spines. Reading gave me an escape throughout the years. Isolation can make anyone crazy, but with my books, I had company. Dominque had been the first person to bring me a book. It was Of Mice and Men. I became addicted, asking Mrs. Hale to bring me new ones when she came. “What was your favorite?” I ask, dreamily.

“Lord of the Flies,” he says, coming up behind me. I hadn’t noticed him move from the bed. “We all revert to our basic nature when forced to fend for ourselves. Such savages the human race.” He traces a finger across my bare thigh, causing a jump in my pulse. A knock on the bedroom door shatters the moment.

Remi goes over to open it, and Dominque waltzes inside, carrying a tray of food. “Hey,” I breathe. I haven’t seen her since I got home. I’d wondered if she had taken a vacation.

“Freya.” She bops her head in greeting, her eyes ping-ponging between Remi and I. “I’m finished for the day. If you leave the tray outside the door, I’ll fetch it in the morning.”

“We can take it down, Dominque. Thanks for bringing it up,” Remi informs her, taking it from her and placing it on the study table. I’d contemplated getting rid of to open up some more space.

“As you wish, sir.” She almost curtseys in an effort to appease him. Not once has she treated me like a master of the house.

“What is it?” I ask, my stomach clenching with hunger.

Popping the lid from the plates, he grins over at me. “Steak.”

Saliva fills my mouth at the sight of two plates stacked with large steaks, mashed potatoes, and vegetables.

“Let’s find something to watch while we eat,” he says, pulling my table over to the bed.

“I’ve never ‘Netflix and chilled’ with anyone but Ivy,” I inform him. “And I doubt you want to watch Vampire Diaries.” We used to watch on Ivy’s phone whenever we got the chance. It got confiscated once and we had to wait for her to go home on summer break before she got it back.

Snorting, he almost spits out the mouthful of soda he just swigged. “Forget the TV, tell me more about you Netflix and chilling with this Ivy chick.”

Frowning, I take my plate, forgoing the table, and sit up against my pillows. “We just used to hide down in the basement, get high, and watch shows on her phone.”

“Wait, you get high?” He shovels a forkful of food into his mouth, his eyes lifting expectantly.

“Yes, and you’ve been holding out on me, by the way.” I side-eye him, taking a bite of my steak, the juices exploding over my tongue.

“Wow, you’re full of surprises. You want to get high right now?” He grins, and it’s wicked.

“You know you’ve always been my favorite, right?” I answer, giddy.

It’s meant in jest, but the humor falls from his face as he says, “I think you’re both light and dark, Freya. We all are. And you need both sides fed. I’m content with that. We both will be.”

My heart slows, the thud heavy in my chest as he leans forward, cupping my face. His lips hover over mine, the intensity in his gaze sending a little pulse of energy zapping through my bloodstream.

“Let’s get high,” he says as he pulls away.

A small laugh trickles up my throat. “Okay.”

My cheek sticks to Remi’s bare chest. He lost his shirt sometime in the middle of a Dexter marathon. We must have fallen asleep because I drooled on him and the heat of our bodies created a sweat film between his chest and my cheek.