Tacet a Mortuis (The Elite King's Club 3)

“Morning, Sam!” I chirped, just like old times, bouncing into the kitchen.

“Morning,” she smiled at me, and then went to the fridge. “What do you want for breakfast, Trigger.”

“Hmmm.” I put my index finger to the side of my cheek. “Can you make waffles?”

Her eyebrow quirked in judgment, but before I could say anything else, Jase was blocking my view into the sitting room. I paused and then gestured out toward the backyard patio. “It’s sheltered. We can talk out there.”

He nodded, and then I followed him out the floor to ceiling doors, shutting them behind myself. Pulling out a chair, I pulled my knees to my chest. Shit. I stared down at my chest and realized I was wearing Brantley’s shirt. I discreetly bring my nose to the collar and inhale. Sand, leather, and cigarettes. Interesting combination of smell.

Jase cleared his throat, sitting down on the chair. “That…” he hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “Should not be talked about.”

“I’m single.”

“Hardly…” he began, his eyes slanting.

“Did you come here to scold me like a real big brother?”

He sighed, running his hand over his shaved head. It was actually shaved really short, and it’s the first time that I see his King tattoo is on the side of his scalp. “No. I’m just saying, be careful. Yes, you have an effect on all of the Kings—which is why I’m here—but you need to tread carefully with how you allow it to play out. If you want more than one, talk with Bishop about it first.”

“Want more than one?” I cut him off, slightly shocked by his choice of words.

He shrugged as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “It wouldn’t be the first time a girl has had to be shared around.”

“What!” I was truly interested to know who this other girl was, not at all slightly jealous that there was someone before me.

He must see my reaction—it would be hard not to—and corrected himself. “Not their generation. Ours.”

“Like yours and Saint’s?”

He offered a small smile. “Yeah, that’s a whole lot of shit you ain’t ready for, but anyway, all I’m saying is don’t hide things from Bishop. You’re playing with fire and it will start a war.”

Now it was my turn to sigh. “You’re right.”

“I don’t even have to ask you to know who it is and who it will always be when it comes to a King, so keep it to him. As much as Bishop is dark and broody, he does have strong feelings for you, Madison, so don’t take that shit lightly.”

“But he lied,” I whispered, looking out to the clearing in the backyard. Behind the pool house, there was a forest. Filled with old log trees and probably more trees. My mind was waiving, trying to run away with the issue at front.

“He did, and he has hidden a lot from you, as he was trained to do, Madison. Remember that before you start any more of that shit.”

“I won’t forgive him. He’s slept with the woman I thought was my mother and he had kept his ex alive all this time. He may have strong feelings for me, Jase.” I braved my eyes to his. “But I wasn’t the first, or the only one.”

He offered me a small smile and then leaned back in his chair, just as Sam walked out with trays of waffles, maple syrup, and whipped cream. She placed it all on the table with plates, knives, and forks, as well as a large jug of iced orange juice and some crystal glasses. I gestured to the food and Jase dug in.

“Actually, you’re wrong,” he added in. “You are the only one.”

“So why did you come?” I asked, deflecting this conversation and pouring syrup on my waffles with huge chunks of butter and cream. He watched me every now and then, loading his own waffle.

“Ah—seriously?” He glared down at my third squirt of maple.

“What?” I questioned innocently, sucking the residue off of my thumb.

“God, I walked in at the wrong time,” Nate muttered from the doorway with Brantley behind him. I popped my finger out of my mouth and smiled softly at them both. “Come eat. Sam makes mean waffles.”

“Want some waffles with that syrup?” Jase continued to judge me, folding his and eating it with his hands. The caveman.

I glared as Brantley and Nate both got comfortable on either side of me, getting started on their waffles.

“Don’t judge my waffle skill. Anyway…”

“I will if you continue that bullshit. One word for you: diabetes.”

He tossed the waffle onto his plate, licking his finger clean. “It’s Hunter.”

My chewing slowed, but Nate and Brantley continued to eat like it was nothing. “Okay,” I edged him to carry on.

He poured some OJ and took a swig. “He’s not happy about you being our sister.”