Sancte Diaboli Part One (The Elite King's Club 6)

Brantley shook his head. “No. Not to my brothers.”

I found it strange, but I didn’t say anything. He brought his eyes up to mine. Dark. His eyes were so dark, a contrast to his pale skin. “He’s going to make you do shit.”

“What?” I whispered, and even though he didn’t elaborate, I could tell by the tone he used that I wouldn’t like it. Not at all.

“He’s going to do shit to you that you won’t like. I can’t stop him.” His head hung between his shoulders.

I reached for him, my skinny fingers wrapping around his already developed arms. Well, unless all boys had some muscles at thirteen. I wouldn’t know. “What do you mean?”

There was a bang on the door. Brantley shot up to his feet, pushing me behind his body and hiding me behind his tall frame. Turning, he studied my features. “I can’t stop him yet. I’m not strong enough. I promise I will one day, though. I promise he won’t hurt you forever.”

I could see in his eyes the pain he was trying to hide. Whatever Lucan was about to do to me must be bad.

I didn’t know what kind of bad.

“Fuck,” Brantley cursed. “Fuck this.” He squared his shoulders and I watched in fascination as his jaw tightened and his pupils dilated. “He’s not touching you.” His hand was on the back of my neck as he tugged my face up to his. “Look at me, Saint.” I did. I looked at the way his mouth moved, too. I also looked at how his eyes had darkened. How I knew he should scare me, but he didn’t. Not ever did he scare me. “He’s not coming near you. Do you trust me?” He spoke with resolve, like he had absolutely made up his mind.

“I—” I paused. I didn’t quite understand the word trust, but I felt deep in my gut that if I was in danger, Brantley would more than likely get me out of it. He had always been that way with me. He had always been the silent shadow that guarded me behind the scenes. He never had to be loud about it, because his energy alone was enough to warn anyone.

I nodded my head. “Yes.”

“Okay. You’re not going to like this, but the latter would be worse. Do you trust that?”

I nodded again. There was another bang on the door.

“Motherfucker, I’m coming!”

Before I could say another word, Brantley spun around, yanked the door open and stepped into Lucan’s space. “You’re not touching her. Ever.”

Present

Sweat swelters over the nape of my neck as images flash behind my eyes.

“Saint!” Brantley’s voice snaps me out of my daze, and I grip the watering can in my hand.

“What happened?” I ask, squeezing the metal in my hand and looking from left to right to see who else is out here. My head throbs with pain, and it’s not until everything comes into focus that I realize I’d either fallen or dropped down into the corner of one of the garden beds.

His jaw clenches, his eyes on mine. His gaze penetrates me like a lit match would a dark room. “I don’t fucking know. Do you do this often?”

“Um.” I get to my feet, my knees wobbling like jelly. “Yes. I think. But it’s usually the nightmares.”

He exhales, grabbing my hands and helping me up. “You’re not going to be here alone without someone from now on. If it’s not me, I’ll leave you at Tillie’s.”

I begin shaking my head because he doesn’t need to go to such an extreme.

“You don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.”

His eyes close, his nostrils flaring before his eyes are open again. I don’t like when he looks at me this way. It makes my stomach roll and my heart falter. He makes me uncomfortable in a way that has my stomach aching, but his presence also pacifies me. Like a gentle stroke of electricity setting fire to my veins. “Nonnegotiable.” He turns to walk away from me, so I remove my garden gloves, tossing them to the side. “Go get changed.”

“Why?” I call out, following behind him.

“Because I’m throwing a fucking party tonight.”

He had turned the car around after the phone call, and we slowly rolled down a street with lights lining the road. It was clearly private and exclusive. Nothing like where I came from.

He pulled the car into a long cobblestone driveway until we came to a stop outside of an oversized mansion. I mean, honestly, it was just flaunting how much money the owners clearly had.

Brantley—now that I knew his name—turned to face me. “Get out.”

They both climbed out of their seats, and he moved the passenger one for me to slip out. When I heard the music blaring and people in the background, I relaxed a little, figuring they had obviously brought me to another party.