Kings of Blood and Money (Underworld Kings)

“What the fuck happened to you?” Remi demands, crawling over the bed, coming to sit in front of me. He takes my wrists and holds my arms out.

Dammit.

I took the sweater off. The bruising on my arms is ugly and purple.

“Did Noah do that to you?” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Has he been hurting you?” There’s a tremor in his voice, astonishment mixed with pain.

“No.” I tug my arms away, crossing them over my waist. “It was nothing. I said something I shouldn’t have and things got out of hand.”

“Freya, is this why you’re so fucking scared of him?”

“No.” I shake my head firmly. “It’s the first time he’s ever gotten rough.”

The bedroom door opens abruptly, gaining our attention. Noah stands there, seething, his shoulders rigid and hands fisted at his sides.

“You had one fucking job, Remi,” he growls.

Remi is off the bed and across the room in a heartbeat. My lungs let out a screech as he fists his hand and plows it into Noah’s jaw. “Remi, don’t,” I squeal, jumping up and running to prevent a brawl.

“Explain,” Noah says so calmly, it’s more terrifying than the growl. Swiping his hand across his lips, smearing a drop of blood, he faces off with his brother.

I’d hate to see them get into it. Remi is powerful, but Noah is skilled, has spent years performing, perfecting his fighting techniques

“The bruises asshole.” Remi’s jaw ticks as he points to my underarms.

Noah’s gaze roams over me, his brow dipping low. “I don’t feel good about that,” he says, looking between us.

“That’s not who we are, brother.”

“I know. I know.” He squeezes his eyes shut, jamming the palm of his hand against his forehead.

“It’s okay, Noah,” I say, trying to calm the situation.

When his eyes spring open, they’re like the ocean, stormy and unpredictable. “It’s not okay. I’m sorry.”

“Who was in the box?” I ask, changing the subject.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.” I step away from them both, survival instinct kicking in.

Who the hell are these people? Who have I been living with this entire time?

Noah advances, his commanding stature eating up the space between us. When he reaches a hand out, I flinch, my heart pounding like a wild animal in a snare. “Usually, your fear would turn me on, little Freya, but not tonight. I hate that I left unwanted bruises on your flesh.”

What the hell does that mean? When will I want bruises?

He slides his fingers down my arm, curling them around my wrist, tugging me forward. I don’t fight him, my body caught up in his thrall. She’s a slut. I collide with his hard chest, his warmth encompassing me as he wraps his arm around me, his hand tangling in my hair.

“I’m sorry you had to see what you did tonight. Our father came home early with important cargo.”

Pulling away, I stare up at him. “It was a person, Noah. Tell him to explain himself, Remi,” I demand.

Studying me, Noah lets out a contemplative, “Hmmm,” before abandoning me to stand by his brother. “I want you to forget what you saw tonight and not ask questions you may not want answers to. Your door was supposed to be locked. If you think cosying up to Remi or me will allow you to manipulate your status here, you’re wrong, I’m afraid.”

“Remi?” I whisper, feeling the cold ice wall going up over Noah.

I thought we’d chipped away to make space for me on the other side, but here he is, darkening my room, my heart. “Remi?” I try again.

“No pussy will come between us, Freya. Not even one as sweet as yours.”

My chest feels like it’s made of glass. So fragile, one crack will splinter the entire thing, and Noah’s banging his fist against it. Once he breaks through, there will be no reassembling. Even when fixed, glass is forever changed, weakened.

Tears pour from my eyes as Noah jerks his head to the door and Remi doesn’t even grant me a look or a word. Like a good solider, he obeys his master.

“Noah...” I gulp past the sob catching in my throat. He stops at my door, his hand on the knob. I pour all my pain into my next words, “I hate you.”

Sixteen

Noah

“I hate you.”

Her words, broken and full of pain, hit like a flame over a raw nerve. I didn’t know what the fuck to do when I came out of Dad’s holding cell and saw her standing next to his cargo.

He rarely brought home a living human being, but something had gone wrong, taking away his choice. I didn’t want Dad to find her. A sense so overpowering to get her out of there confused the shit out of me. I wasn’t sure what he’d do with her, but I didn’t want to find out. Wanted to protect her from finding out what we are, what our business is built upon.