Cruel War (The Gilded Sovereign 1)

“Are you coming to bed?”

“I am. Philipe was just here to collect a docket,” I tell her, crooking my finger to call her closer. “Ares will know about his new role in this household. I plan to speak to him tomorrow.”

“I don’t know if he’s ready,” she shakes her head, worry etched on her beautiful face. She voices my concerns out loud.

Sighing, I stand and go to where she’s standing at the edge of my desk, pulling her into my arms. “He will be. He’s a Lancaster, it’s in our blood.”

“This isn’t some supernatural occurrence, Abner. He’s not going to suddenly become powerful and grow wings,” she bites out in frustration. Our son may not be something from a comic book, but there are things about the four new Crowns who will take over that nobody would ever guess.

Ares being one of them.

But what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her, which is why I’m not the one to complete the task I’ve set in motion. So instead of saying anything, I scoop her up and make my way through the house and up to our suite.

“I think it’s time we made love again,” I murmur in her ear, with my eyes shut, I pray she’ll calm the fuck down. The darkness grips me when I think of the violence to befall us.

Her hands land on my shoulders, holding me away from her for a moment before she shakes her head. “Don’t push me away and treat me like I’m fragile.”

“You are fragile.” I can easily overpower her, and she knows it. I could lift her with one hand, squeeze, and her breath will be stolen. I don’t. I do allow her to glower at me though because that will ensure our night in bed together will be short.

“I’m not, Abner,” she bites out, and I can see this night isn’t going as planned. All I need, want, was a chance to feel her, but she’s not having it.

I rise, turning away from her, and head into the bathroom. I don’t need this. I really can’t lose my shit so close to Philipe’s inking. The moment my eldest son wears the mark of the Sovereign, I can take a back seat on the day to day running of the society.

“Don’t walk away from me,” she retorts, her voice shrill and angry.

“Darling, I suggest you go to bed.”

“Like fuck, this is ridiculous. What are you not telling me? You’ve hidden enough from me over the years, Abner. The women, the killing, I see the blood on your clothes; I’m not stupid.”

One rule of the Sovereign is to never speak of it with those outside the society. Even our partners. The only people who know about it are the children who will step up to the table.

No females.

No outsiders.

It may sound misogynistic, but that’s what the ancestors wanted, and that’s what they’ll get. We observe their rituals, their way of life.

“Abner.”

“Lilian. Go. To. Bed.” My voice is low, a warning tone that makes her stop for a moment. I feel her. Every part of me knows what she feels because I can feel it, too. I sense every argument she has raging around in her mind.

I glance over my shoulder, meeting her questioning gaze before she shakes her head and turns away from me. I watch her slip under the sheet and curl into a ball. Her shoulders shake, but I don’t go to her. I’m not that type of man.

Closing my eyes, I quell the urges inside me, and I calm my erratic heartbeat. My sons don’t know about me; they have no idea who their father truly is, and I refuse to let them find out by me ripping their mother to shreds in a fit of fury.

Once I step down, my secrets will be safe.

I’ll make sure of it.

1

Ares

Five years later

The air in Tynewood is alive with electricity and promise. A new school term is starting. Senior year at Tynewood University, and I can’t wait to see what the next few months hold. This small town that sits a stone’s throw away from the Olympic National Forest is picturesque, yet it’s filled with secrets because of the Gilded Sovereign secret society, which has educated the most influential people in the country.

I’m not sure why the ancestors, my ancestors chose this town to start the Sovereign, but all the whispers I’ve heard about it have confirmed the founding families are born of European royalty. Before I was born, even before my father or grandfather.

The university has given birth to presidents, statesmen, and the families who live in Tynewood all come from blue blood. Royalty. Which explains more or less how the Gilded Sovereign got its name.

My mind is on the upcoming initiation. I haven’t been officially welcomed into the society yet, but in a week, on my twenty-first birthday, I’ll be given the cloak, crown, and tattoo, along with access to contacts around the world. Each one is a connection to more money and power.