The Broken Puppet (The Elite King's Club 2)

Bishop stops. His eyes look straight into mine, commanding the entire room while summoning my fucking soul. Because that’s what he does. When his stance changes to this one—one I’ve only seen twice now—he stares into my eyes and summons my soul. But with my soul come my demons, and I think that’s the part he’s only just figuring out.

“Come again,” he growls softly. Too softly.

I shiver in fear, because I should be fucking scared. Every survival instinct the human body has is on high alert within me right now. Run. I should run. But I can’t, because he’s fucking summoned me. Because—

“Madison,” he repeats in the same tone, cocks his head a little, and slowly walks toward the foot of my bed. “Repeat what you just said, and think very carefully about your next words, because my fingers are twitching to snap some necks…” He pauses, breaking our eye contact and glaring right at my throat. “…and yours is looking rather snapable too.”

Oh shit.

“Okay, hang on.” I stand up from the bed, feeling more confident on my feet. “I meant that—” He pushes me back down onto the bed. “Bishop!” I yell, propping myself up on my elbows and looking up at him.

“Did any of them touch you?”

“Bishop—”

He grips onto my leg and pushes me up my bed, stepping between my thighs. “Don’t, Madison. Don’t fuck with this.”

“I meant it was—”

He presses his lips to the crook of my neck and bites down on it roughly.

“Was what?” he asks, his voice vibrating against my skin as his other hand comes up to my throat. His thumb caresses my jawline gently as he kisses and licks all over my neck. Biting down on my bottom lip to fight a moan, I close my eyes, but then he presses his dick into me, and I lose it.

“Was a fucking dream!” I yell, still slightly angry at him.

He stops, pauses, and settles his face into my neck. Seconds pass when I feel his body jerking on top of me.

Narrowing my eyes, I slap him in the ribs. “Are you fucking laughing?”

Then he bursts into fits of laughter, rolling onto his back while clutching his stomach. “Fuck.”

I’m staring at him, confused and annoyed, and just when I’m about to hit him again, I realize this is the first time I’ve ever seen Bishop laugh. Or even smile this big. Or just smile without there being an ulterior motive behind it.

Before I can stop myself, I giggle. “Stop laughing. It’s not funny.”

He slams his mouth closed as he tries to contain his fit, and then he looks to me, his eyes dancing with humor. “Sorry, babe. But that’s fucking hilarious. You getting mad at me over a dream.”

“Stop. It was more than that, and it felt like….”

He hooks his arm around my waist, lifts me up, and puts me on top of him so I’m straddling his waist. Placing his arms behind his head, he stares at me, so I look away, scared he’ll summon some more of my soul and never give it back. “Hey,” he whispers. “Look at me.”

I shake my head. “I sort of don’t want to.”

“Why?” he whispers again, and I know in his tone that he’s being honest.

“Because.”

“Because why, Madison?”

“Because you steal some of my soul every time you do that thing with your eyes.”

He slams his mouth closed again, his stomach jerking beneath me.

Oh no he is—

“Are you laughing at me again?” My eyes snap to his and he bursts out laughing once more. I go to get off him when he grabs me around the waist again and pulls me down so my lips are within an inch of his. “Hey,” he repeats, his warm breath falling over my lips. “Look at me.”

Knowing he will never let up, I look at him. I mean, eyes a little crossed, front row seating, soul clenching, really look at him, and my heart launches in my chest. That’s what needs to get summoned… right the fuck out of my body.

“What?” I meant for my tone to be harsher than what it is when it comes out.

“I’d never fucking share you. Period. Yes, we fuck around a bit, but the boys know there’s a line when it comes to you, and if any of them cross it, I have no problem being a King short.”

I laugh, shaking my head. He can’t mean that. We fight so much; he’s never told me how he’s felt—only maybe once before, outside my house—but I never know when he’s being truly sincere, because everything is always a game. And I usually always lose. This, though, the way he’s looking at me and how he’s talking to me, it’s putting dents in my solid plan to get revenge.

“I know what you’re doing.” His fingers dig into my hips.