In Fury Lies Mischief (Midnight Mayhem 2)

Bringing it back to the room, I twist off the lid and take a brave swig. Hissing, I hand it to him. “It’s all I’ve got and that’s thanks to Perse.” I knew something else was bothering him.

Killian shakes his head. “Don’t need it, but you might.”

I take a puff of my smoke and hug the bottle to my chest.

“I didn’t want to tell you right now, and fuck, I actually am not supposed to be telling you right now, but there’s something that I’m hoping I’m right about.”

“What?” I urge, my heart now picking up in pace. Gone is the fatigue.

His eyes bore into mine. “You don’t remember me?”

I shake my head. “No?”

“Fuck.” He runs his hands through his hair, reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his phone and hits dial on someone’s number. “Yeah, you awake? I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important. I need you to come to Saskia’s house.” Pause. “So she doesn’t kill me when she finds out.” He hangs up his phone and tosses it onto the floor.

“Killian.” I drop to the ground opposite him. “Tell me.”

Minutes pass. Three more cigarettes and a whole lot of silence later.

He brings the bottle to his mouth just as headlights flash through the windows and doors close. Three, if I counted right.

He falls silent again before whispering, “I need you to know.”

There’s a knock on my door. “Come in!” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I’m momentarily traumatized by what I probably look like.

Turning to look over my shoulder, Delila, King, and Perse walk into the room. Perse is in pajamas, and Delila is in a silk robe. King is wearing gray sweats and a hoodie. Obviously everyone jumped out of bed as soon as Killian said that he was about to tell me something.

“Jesus,” Perse scolds Killian. “Really?”

“What?” I ask absently.

King chuckles, shaking his head and Delila rolls her eyes.

They shut the door and make themselves comfortable in the room.

Killian is the first to speak. “In Kiznitch, Delila came to the house to tell me—well, to warn me of you.”

“Warn you?” I scowl.

Killian quiets me with a glare.

“Ever wondered where you got your last name Dragavei?”

“Yes, all of the time since finding out. I figured I’d talk to Delila about it sooner or later.”

Killian takes another pull of his tequila. “Your mother was a Dragavei, your father was a Royal. The reason why I didn’t realize it was you at first was because when you were a kid, your parents called you Zaika, and your last name was Dragavei then, not Royal.” He clears his throat. “Your mother was cut off after she started dating your father. Her parents—your grandparents who also owned this house—cut off their only daughter because of your father.”

I stop him, shaking my head. “She was a Dragavei?” I wonder what Papa did to make them angry.

“I was two when you were born. Your parents were already working for my parents. You were born in my damn bedroom because your mother went into labor while cleaning my bathroom.”

“Wait!” I shoot up from the ground. “Pause. What do you mean they were working for your parents? And why—what…”

Perse comes up beside me, running her hand up and down my arm. “Let him finish, Sass. We can figure out the rest once he has told you everything that he knows.”

I look down at Killian.

He continues, “Your parents worked for my parents as your mom, Lucia, cooked, cleaned, kept the house up to standards and in return, my father gave your father protection, the pool house to raise you in, and his gambling debt being paid.” You were born in my damn bedroom. My eyes slam closed. “Open your fucking eyes, Saskia, I’m not even halfway done.”

I do, and he stands from his position on the floor. “When you were born, I saw you open your goddamn eyes for the first time ever. I was the first fucking thing you ever saw on this earth.”

I shake my head, stepping backward until the bed hits the back of my legs. “No. No. Why—no. We stayed in Kiznitch but only until—”

Killian steps forward. “—You were eight years old when you left. Your father ran after your mother died. I remember. I remember every single fucking thing, Saskia, but the question is, why the fuck don’t you?” He tilts his head. “You hated me as a child. You’d call me a rich brat and make my life a living hell. You ruined so much for me as a kid. Always hanging around. Always fucking there. I made your life hell for those eight years.” He’s standing directly in front of me now, his hands gripping my chin, tilting my face up to his. “So the question is, do you or do you not remember, and are you really just fucking with me for revenge?”