Kings of Blood and Money (Underworld Kings)

The house alarms let out a beeping sound. Noah is back. I don’t know what exactly went down between those two earlier, but it feels like they’ve taken a step backward again, tension high and fragile.

I found Freya crying when Noah left, sweeping up some broken glass. She said she’d dropped a bottle of beer but there was deception in her eyes. She’s been down there a while now. She was only supposed to be getting us drinks. Part of me doesn’t want to intrude if they’re speaking things out, but the other part, the part that’s ridiculously protective and crazy about Freya, has me getting to my feet and dragging a pair of shorts up my legs.

Opening the door, Midnight makes a break for it. I follow his escape into the kitchen. Everything slows as I enter, my world tipping on its axis. The floor quakes beneath my feet, fear rattling the foundations of my being. Laying on the cold, hard tiles, hair splayed out around her like angel wings, is Freya.

What the hell happened?

Dropping to my knees, I lift her head into my lap.

“Hey, hey, hey. What happened?” I beg as her eyes flutter open. There’s no blood, no sign of injury.

Her autumn eyes find focus, color rushing to her cheeks. “Noah. Who was that?” she murmurs, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“It’s Remi, Frey. Talk to me, baby.”

“Remi,” she breathes. “I was dreaming.”

Lifting her into my arms, she curls into me as I carry her up to my bedroom and lay her on the bed. She lets out a hissing as her head touches the pillow. “I banged my head.”

“You fainted, Frey. What the hell? Do you feel okay?” My heart races. I’ve never been more scared in my entire life. “Maybe we should take you to the hospital to get you checked out.” Fuck, I wish Dad was here. Where the hell is Noah? “Did you see Noah? You said his name.”

Wincing, she says, “No, I just got lightheaded. It’s all the pleasure you’re wringing from me.” She sounds normal, playful even. Maybe low blood sugar.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Shifting, she rests her hand on my knee. “Actually, I am hungry.”

She’s starving. Without Dominque here, we’ve let her wither. “I’m going to make you something. You stay here. Don’t fucking move, okay?”

“Okay.” I hesitate at the door, and she chuckles. “I promise, I’m fine. Please bring me food.”

When I get back downstairs, Noah is standing in the fridge light, looking inside.

“Where were you?” I ask, bracing my hands on the counter.

“I had work, I told you.” He looks like he’s just been to war. His tie is hanging off, his shirt caked in sweat, an unsettling sag to his shoulders.

“Noah?” He knows better than to try to fool me. Freya is my soul mate, but Noah and I are one person. We may have been split in two and shoved into different bodies, but we’re still one entity.

Turning to me, he exhales. “Where’s Freya?”

“She fucking fainted. We’re not looking after her right.”

His spine straightens, eyes expanding. “Fainted? Where is she?”

“Upstairs. She needs—” I don’t finish the sentence before he’s out the door and running up the stairs.

Grabbing a couple bottles of water, I scoop the fruit bowl up and make my way back upstairs.

Twenty-Nine

Noah

Bursting into Remi’s room, my heart in my throat, I find Freya sitting up in his bed. Wide, frightened eyes flash to the door as I come through. “Remi said you fainted.” I exhale, almost tripping over a pile of clothes discarded on the floor.

Fidgeting with her hands in her lap, she says, “I just let myself get hungry.” Her voice is small, distant. The room feels like a cave. I’m shouting to try to reach her as it swallows her up. I want to go back to yesterday, to be in that small sliver of time when I didn’t know what I do now. Back to the moment where I allowed myself to have her, be with her. It’s twisted now, corroding.

It’s my fault she fainted. She abandoned her sandwich earlier because we were arguing.

“How’s your head?”

“Throbbing. I feel like a klutz.”

She moves her feet as I edge toward the bed, inviting me to sit. Tension, thick and pulsing, hangs over us like a storm cloud. One dip in temperature, and it unleashes hell on us.

I feel dirty sitting here with her, knowing I was just down there with evil incarnate. What would she do if she knew, all this time, the answers she seeks have been closer than she thought? I wonder if he’d give her answers. No amount of torture got me any.

“I fucking hate what went down earlier,” I say as I sit.

“Me too.” She smiles, but it’s weak.

Taking her hand, she closes her eyes, then entwines her fingers in mine. Relief loosens the noose I’ve felt around my neck since leaving the house. So much information has come to light. We need to talk it out, but I just want to sleep, want to bask in the good for a few moments before it all goes to shit again.