Kings of Blood and Money (Underworld Kings)

“I’m fine. You need to trust me when I say I’ll be okay.” I clank the knife on the counter, and they still just stare at me.

Dammit, they’re not going to go. Rounding the counter, I drive myself between them, wrapping an arm around the back of Remi’s waist so his front flushes against my back and my front pushes into Noah’s chest. My other hand splays up Noah’s back. A low growl chases up Remi’s throat, his cock thickening against me. That boy is insatiable.

“Go, get this mess sorted, and come home to me,” I mumble, my voice as sultry as I can make it.

Walking them to the front door, Noah says, “Caleb is on the gate. He has orders not to allow anyone in. Just stay in the house. We’ll be back soon, okay?”

“I’m not a child. Go.” I wave them off, closing the door. Immediately, I creep up the first few steps and watch their retreat to the garage.

When they pull away in a truck, I pace the kitchen floor. What if they forget something and come back for it? How long should I wait for them to be far enough away? My heart thunders in my chest. It’s hard to breathe. It’s hot in here. Sweat slickens my back and forehead.

If I don’t do it now, I may never get another chance. Grabbing a bagel and bottle of water, I go over to the door and punch the numbers in, my fingers trembling.

Four. One. Breathe…

Eight. Two. Breathe...

Zero. One. Breathe…

Zero.

My feet wobble. My head feels woozy as the green light flashes and the clinking signals the door unlocking. It worked.

I can do this.

Mouth dry and stomach cramping, I walk the cold, empty corridor, each step mimicking the pounding of my heart. I come to a stop at the last door. It has one of those security code locks like every door in here. Are there other people behind the other doors?

With a nervous hand, I reach for the small latch window, cranking it open. Can your heart explode? Mine races in a warning.

Movement shifts inside the square room. There’s a mattress on the ground, a pillow and gray blanket, stacks of books. And then I see him, sitting in a corner, a book clenched in his grip. Brown eyes clash with mine. There’s nothing else about him I recognize but those eyes, I know them. A burning ache fires up my neck.

“You cut me,” I say suddenly. The child inside me sparks to life. Remember…remember, she cries.

Arguing with my mother…shouting, loud…

Mama.

It was him, carrying me out of my childhood bedroom, the sharp fire as he dug a blade into my neck while saying bad words to someone in the room…Father…

My chest constricts.

“Freya,” he breathes, his limbs unfolding as he gets to his feet. He’s naked, just skin and hair. His body is so damaged with scars, his flesh looks like it’s made of leather.

“What did they do to you?” Tears fall to my cheeks despite myself.

Looking down, he holds his hands out by his sides. “The surgeon likes to keep me alive so he can re-kill me every year on the anniversary as punishment.”

He doesn’t seem scared or sorry for his crimes. Doesn’t try to deny what he is, what he's done. Would they keep him here to torture him? Can that be true? Would someone do such barbaric things for revenge? The scars say yes.

“You killed them all,” I choke out. I knew it, but for him to be here, to not care after all this time, after all the torture. He’s more animal than man. Was he born this way or made?

“That man stole everything from me,” he growls, racing toward the door. I shuffle back, dropping the water bottle and bagel. I was going to offer them to him, to be human.

“Look at you all grown up, letting those twin bastards fuck you.” I jolt at his cruel words. My hand comes up to cover my mouth, to hold in the scream wanting out. I won’t let this beast dirty what the twins and I share. He studies me for my reaction, to confirm what he’s saying.

“Did you kill my mother?” I ask, trying to swallow. My throat closes up.

“What did you bring me?” He dips his eyes to the floor.

“Nothing. I’m giving you nothing,” I spit out.

“Then you get nothing.” He smirks. All this time, locked away in a cage, and he’s coherent, vocal, cruel. How can I be made of his parts?

“I’ll give you water if you tell me why,” I bargain, staring into a fire and trying not to get scorched.

“Why what?” He leans against the hole, inhaling, nostrils flaring. He’s a demon. This cage is his leash. He’s everything I feared he would be. The sliver of hope that there was something human left in him burns to dust.