Cruel War (The Gilded Sovereign 1)

“Isn’t it past your curfew?” I bite out my response, frustration evident in my voice, which causes him to chuckle.

“Okay, kids, can we play nicely?” Tarian offers as he kicks my bedroom door shut. He pulls out a joint, which he rolled earlier, and flicks the lighter. The flame dances along the end of the smoke and the red cherry comes to life.

“He was being an asshole,” I grin, flopping on the bed. I watch them take their respective seats: Tarian always in my desk chair, and Etienne in the bean bag he’s always loved that’s facing the balcony.

“I think we should bring her in. Tell her everything. She needs to know the truth,” Tarian says before pulling in a lungful of smoke, coming toward me, he hands me the joint. I watch him blow smoke rings from his mouth before he continues, “She’s a Crown.”

“There’s no place for women in the Sovereign.”

“What if there was?” He challenges. What he’s saying goes against everything I’ve been brought up to believe. My father would never allow us to Crown, a female. Not even Kelli is allowed to sit at the table.

“This is ridiculous. You know it will never happen.” I inhale a deep lungful of smoke, my eyes closing as the hit takes hold of me for a moment longer. “And besides,” I look at Etienne, “she’ll never submit to me being in charge of her.”

My best friends grin at me stupidly when I utter those words. I know they’re thinking about it, taking the little flower and making her fall to her knees for our pleasure. What they don’t know is, I will never share her. She’s mine to toy with, her body will bend to my will only. I want her heart to shatter, and I want to be the one to break her.

“I gotta jet,” Etienne says, rising from the bean bag and grabbing the last of the joint. Planting it between his lips, he offers us both a salute before he heads out the door. I know he’ll be back in a few hours. Sleep doesn’t come easy when you’re about to give yourself over to a secret society.

“You want to come to the church with me?” I ask Tarian.

“I’m working on something for your dad,” he tells me. “I have a feeling he’s hiding something.” His words shock me silent. “I’ll tell you when I find out anything.” He rises, making his way to the door. But he stops before he walks out. “Listen to me, Ares,” he looks over his shoulder at me. “Be careful. Your dad may be blood, but there’s something not quite right with this situation.”

Once I’m alone, Tarian’s words tumble over in my head on replay, and I push off the bed as the buzz hits me. I shouldn’t go there now, but even as I make my way down to my car, I smile when I think about seeing her.

Perhaps I should leave her alone for now. Until Saturday when she’s in my house, within the walls of the Lancaster mansion. But I’ve never been one to think logically when it comes to revenge.

Slipping into the driver’s seat, I press Start, causing the engine to purr to life. And as much as I want to turn down the road to her house, I don’t. I make my way up the hill toward the church. When I pull onto the dirt road, it doesn’t take long till I’m parking round the back and exiting the vehicle.

The moment I step foot into the abandoned building, I find the one pew that’s still standing and settle on it. Leaning back, I allow the high from the joint to seep through my veins.

Dahlia’s pretty face appears in my mind’s eye, and I focus on those wide blue eyes, plump pink lips, and her long dark hair. She’s bad for me. I’m attracted to her, but she’s not someone I can keep. Dahlia is here for me to finally seek the revenge I need.

That’s all.

I don’t know why, but there’s a tether between us, and I’m about to tie it even tighter. I can’t tell the guys about this because they won’t understand. I’ve spent my life needing to hurt someone for my mother’s death, and now that the chance has landed in my lap, I keep second guessing myself.

The memory of watching her father pull the trigger flits into my mind, and I’m on my feet, pacing back and forth. The silver light of the full moon shines through the broken window, and I stop to stare up at it.

“She will fucking pay.”

It’s a vow. One I intend to keep.

6

Dahlia

Staring at my reflection, I take in my long black hair that hangs in glossy waves down to the middle of my back. The color shimmers with gold highlights, reminding me of my mother when she would take me to the salon with her.