Dirty Little Secrets (Kings of Bolten 1)

She looked back at me. “It doesn’t. I’m just the kings’ whore, right? The one who gave up her virginity, freedom, and sanity all to stay safe. Nothing I do matters to any of you.”

“Fuck, Bianca, not this, OK? I’m not the one you want to try to gain sympathy from. It won’t work. I said you could go, so go.”

“You tried to kill me, Levin.”

“I guess we’re doing this, huh?” I tightened my hands on her waist. “I snapped. You fucked up, and I overreacted. We good now?”

“No.” She frowned up at me. “Why did you get so mad? I admit I was a bitch, but not the sort you should try to strangle to death.”

I sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I admit shit got out of hand. Isn’t that good enough for you?”

“This is hard for me—"

“Cry me a fucking river. You’re beautiful and smart. You have men eating out of your hand daily. You’ll want for nothing in your life because it’ll always be handed to you. Now that you’re a D’Angelou, it’s a fucking certainty. So don’t act like your life is so terrible.”

“You don’t know shit about my life,” she said, leaning into me.

The aroma of alcohol, weed, and that damn lavender engulfed my senses.

“And you don’t know shit about mine. You’re really starting to kill my buzz.”

She shook her head and pulled out of my hold. “Whatever. You don’t care. Why don’t you just take me out into the trees and kill me off? You know you want to.”

“I’m seriously contemplating it,” I muttered, watching as she backed away from me.

“Dominic. Vincent. You. You’re all the same.”

“And you’re drunk and high and need to sit down or go find a friend.”

She laughed bitterly. “Why? So you can beat him up?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. It beats listening to you.”

She stomped her foot and stormed away from me, her blonde hair whipping behind her.

Sighing, I grabbed my whiskey and took another long drink, ready for a long night of baby-fucking-sitting. Or maybe I’d just let her go.

Fuck it. One less thing I’d have to deal with.

Twenty-Seven

Dominic

What do you have for me?” I asked as I closed the bedroom door behind me. The bed was hardly worth sleeping in, but people fucked in this place all the time.

“Information.” Stella licked her lips and twisted her fingers in my black t-shirt. “But you get it after I get what I want.”

“And what’s that?” I let her pull me to the bed.

“I want you to fuck me like you fuck her.”

I stiffened against her before shoving her away. She pouted, her mascara already smeared. I hated that look on a woman.

“I fuck her the way I do because she’s mine,” I said, not bothering to say I’d only fucked her once.

“I could be yours too.” Stella reached for me, but I pushed her hands away.

“You’re Ivanov’s lap dog. You could never be mine.”