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

“Oh?” I ask, pushing off his chest so I’m sitting on him properly. “And what exactly is that?”

He smirks. “You wanted to get revenge on me. On all of us. Hell, I knew that a long time ago. Why do you think I never came to get you back from overseas when I could have?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you think I didn’t know you were in New Zealand? That you used to sit at that little black table and draw for the tattoo artist, Jesse? That you started having a little thing for him? I knew everything, Madison. There wasn’t a second when you weren’t under my protection.”

I blink, and try to gather enough coherent thoughts to ask some questions.

“How? But why didn’t you get me then?”

“There was stuff going on here that needed to be cleaned up, and you needed to calm down. I would’ve rather had you out of the US while everything was getting sorted.”

“Did it get sorted?” I ask, wiggling up his body so I’m away from his dick.

“No.” He pushes me back down so now I’m directly on top of it.

Shit.

“So why did you bring me back?” I try to shuffle off, annoyed at how horny it makes me with him pressed against me like that. And aside from the fact I am angry about that dream, it turned me on the same.

He pulls down on me, hard enough for me to hiss. Narrowing his eyes, his other hand comes up, and he hooks his finger under my chin, tilting my head up. “Someone touched what is mine. That’s what the fuck happened.”

“You say that, yet you don’t tell me what ‘we’ are, or anything.”

“A label? You want a label?”

“No!” I shake my head. Exhaling, I get off his lap, and he lets me. “I don’t know what I want, but I know I want you.”

“Well fuck the rest of it. That’s all that matters.”

“But what does this mean?” I ask, gesturing between the two of us, my girl brain ticking at a hundred miles an hour.

“It means you’re mine. That’s all that means.”

“And… what about you?” I laugh sarcastically. “If you think I’m going to watch as you go around—”

“Have you ever seen me be a slut?”

“I’ve seen you touch one,” I mutter under my breath, remembering him and Ally. My tone is 100 percent salty and not a single fuck is given.

He doesn’t reply, so I look up at him. He’s standing in front of me, his knees leaning against the mattress of my bed. Bending down, he spreads my legs open and steps between them. Leaning down, he runs his lips over mine. “And she’s dead. So I’ll ask you again, have you seen me be a slut?”

The way he talks about Ally being dead—and the fact he’s the one who killed her—should upset me, but it doesn’t. I don’t know why he did it. Hell, I don’t even understand what Ally could have done to deserve being knocked off. But for some crazy reason, I don’t care.

“No.” I shake my head slowly, and he leans down again, pressing a kiss against my lips. My bedroom door swings open. “So, that was—” Nate stops, and Bishop smiles against my lips before stepping backward. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Go away. Please go away,” I laugh at Nate.

“Well now, you’ve just made it more exciting for me to stay.” He walks in and sits beside me on my bed, a Cheshire grin on his face.

“Motherfucker.”

His grin deepens.

“I’ve got shit to sort anyway. I’ll see you at school,” Bishop announces, looking at me briefly before walking out the door, back into Nate’s room.

“Put a shirt on!” I yell toward his retreating back, and he chuckles slightly, closing the door behind him.

“So!” Nate turns to me, putting his hands together like a little girl excited that she just got invited to a sleepover. “Tell me all the goss’!”

“Fuck you.” I roll my eyes and get off the bed.

His shoulders sag. “You’re no fun.”

I walk into my closet and flick the light on. “Let’s just say,” I murmur, scanning through my skinny jeans, “he’s finally claimed me.” I settle for the black ones with rips in the knees. Pulling down a tight, V-neck, long-sleeved shirt, I turn to face Nate when he’s silent.

He’s smiling. Like I knew he would be. “He claimed you that first day you walked into Riverside, Kitty. You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

Removing my clothes, I tug on my jeans… then tug some more, because apparently I’ve put on weight, and then button them up. “No, but it’s… I don’t know… different now. There’s so many layers to Bishop. I never know when he’s actually being truthful.” Throwing on my shirt, I pull my hair out of the back and fluff it up.