Malum: Part 1 (The Elite King's Club 4)

“No, I’m not…” I shake my head, sucking in a copious amount of air.

I back up.

He counters my step and wraps one arm around my back, pulling me into him. “Admit it.” He grins. “You think I’m adorable.”

I roll my eyes. “I wouldn’t say ado—”

His lips gently touch mine, his fingers burrowing into my hair, caressing the back of my head. I part my lips a little and his tongue slips into my mouth. We’re interrupted by Micaela’s little hand coming up to my face.

We both laugh, pulling back and looking down at her. “She really is fucking perfect,” Nate says softly.

“I know,” I agree, running my index finger down her cheeks. “We did one thing right, at least.”

“Yeah.” He smiles and then gestures outside. “Tonight, Hector is organizing a poolside dinner. It’ll be all of us, Bishop’s cousin Spyder, and a few old generation Kings. I want you to come.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Really? Why?”

“Because I want all of us there. Micaela is in this world now, too. It’s a part of her whether we like it or not. It’ll be safe, baby, you don’t have to worry about anything happening to her again. She’s with me now.”

I chew on my bottom lip. I know I trust Nate when it comes to that, and I somewhat trust Bishop, but as far as the rest go—that would be a solid no. I catch Nate smiling down at Micaela, the proud look on his face is all for her. I can’t take that away from him. We can talk more in-depth of future “dinners” after tonight, though, because I’m not interested in making this a reoccurring thing.

“Okay,” I whisper just as he’s placing her down onto the playmat.

“Yeah?” He smirks up at me.

I nod. “Sure. How bad could it be?”

After rushing around the room, packing Micaela’s bag, getting ready, choosing a dress, and then blowing out my hair, we are officially late. I tried to wear a black dress, but Nate said the women are to wear red and the men wear black. We dressed Micaela in a little red gown that puffed out around her legs, and then we were ready.

Nate drops down gears and zips onto the road. He watches his speedometer every two seconds though, making sure he isn’t driving too fast over the speed limit. Micaela is strapped in the backseat of his car. A few minutes later we pull into Bishop’s driveway and Nate reaches forward, handing me a small red velvet box. I run my fingers over it, turning to face him.

“What is it?”

He shrugs. “Open it and put it on.” Flipping open the glove compartment, he takes out a box around the same size, maybe a bit bigger. I open mine and my eyes land on a black lace masquerade mask. Only it’s not the usual masquerade mask where the lace is pretty with twirls. This one looks a little different. I tie it around the back of my head and flip the mirror down to take a look. I was right, it’s very idiosyncratic. Each strap of lace is apportioned specifically on a patterned line to reveal a skull. It’s beautiful, but a little frightening. I love it. Nate is tying his at the back of his head.

“Let me see yours.”

I can see the side of his cheek smirk. “If you show me yours?”

I roll my eyes, about to say how stupid he is when he turns his face full to mine and my breath catches in my throat. “Holy shit.”

Thick white—what looks like bone—is carved into a half skull on his face. There are three holes, two for his eyes and one for his nose. The top of his lip is where teeth are carved into it, with the fangs stabbing downward, pressing against his lower lip. You can still see the sharp edges of his angular jaw and his plump lower lip. It’s disturbingly sexy. That mask mixed with his Armani suit that is tailored to perfection, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the bow tie hanging loosely around his collar. My ovaries may not survive this night. I need to calm down.

I lick my lips. “You look great.”

He rolls his eyes. “I look better than great, mea principessa, quit playin’.” He climbs out and I slip out after him.

“Seriously. What is it made of?”

He’s in the back, unhooking Micaela from her seat. When he comes back out, his eyes slam into mine. I can make out the curve in his cheek that he’s grinning at me.

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” Then he shuts the door.

“Actually, I would,” I mumble under my breath. Nate tosses the keys to a valet who is standing near a long line of cars. I swear the keys fly in slow motion until my eyes come directly to the boy, who is watching me eagerly.