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

He curses under his breath, and I know I’ve lost the side he bared to me seconds ago. The entire time I’ve known him, he’s only shown it to me three times. Three times. All of the other minutes and hours, he was cruel, but not in a way that made me feel abused.

He grabs my hand anyway and pulls me behind his hard body. “I don’t give a fuck if you don’t trust me, Dea. You’re doing as I say whether you fucking like it or not.”

I follow behind him anyway. Even if he didn’t have my wrist in his grasp, I still would. Just before he’s about to push the main doors open, he turns to face me, and if I was anyone else, the glare he’s inflicting on me would make me squirm. But I don’t. Brantley may be the Devil incarnate, but he protects those he chooses to with the same fierceness it takes to rule over Hell.

“And if you don’t like it?” The corner of his mouth curves as he tugs on my hand and his mouth moves to my ear. I hold my breath, ignoring the way fire erupts inside of me. “Make sure you scream fucking murder. I prefer it that way.” He turns and pushes open the doors so hard they slam against the walls inside, causing me to jump. “Inside. Now.”

I follow behind, grabbing the handle and closing it gently. An office is directly at the front, with twin stairs behind that lead off to three separate wings. Behind the office is a large foyer, opening out to the back of the building. To the right is a long hallway, and to the left, the same. On the wall leading behind the front desk are years upon years of trophies, credentials, winnings.

I continue to follow Brantley down to the back of the office area, the smell pungent. Dusty old books that haven’t been flipped through in years, burned wood, and musty corners fill my nostrils.

Once we reach the back, Brantley takes a turn to the left and leads us through two wooden doors, where a conference room is. Maybe it was the staff room? Looks more like a conference room. Everyone is seated around the table with Nate at the head this time, not Bishop. His hands are buried in his hair, his hoodie over his face.

Tillie is rolling her eyes, tears long since dried, and Bishop looks over my body quickly, before going to Brantley. “Everything good?”

Brantley pulls out a chair, takes a seat in it, and kicks his leg out wide. I grip the edge of the one beside his, but his hand comes to my arm, stopping me. I catch his eyes just in time for him to grab me around my hips and pull me down onto his lap.

Everyone is silent. Another silent break. Why is everyone always quiet whenever Brantley does something?

I turn in his grip, but his fingers don’t loosen enough for me to do it comfortably. Finally, I’m turned enough to catch his gaze. “I can sit in the seat beside yours.”

He doesn’t pay me any attention, momentarily disregarding my comment. “Prefer you where you are.”

I turn back around to face everyone else, shrugging. I wait for him to move his fingers, but he doesn’t. If anything, they tense.

Bishop is still glaring at Brantley. “Are you done? Because we’ve got shit to discuss, and since she now knows about the biggest family affair in history, can we continue?”

Brantley kicks out his other leg, and because of my small frame and his massive one, I can balance on one of his thighs.

Brantley squeezes my hip bone. “Just getting started.” And for some reason, the words ring through my brain long after he says them.

Bishop chuckles, shaking his head almost in disbelief. “Well, shit.” He looks to Nate, but Nate’s focus is on Brantley and me.

I watch as a smirk creeps onto the corner of Nate’s lips, hidden behind his hoodie. “Saint, I believe we’re the only ones who aren’t related…”

The sound of a gun cocking penetrates the air, and suddenly a shiny silver barrel is beneath Nate’s chin, pressed roughly into his skin. His smirk doesn’t change, if anything it becomes wider.

Tillie stares at him. “Say it again. You know, because I don’t think I heard you correctly…”

Brantley is laughing beside me, so hard he has to hook his arm around my belly to pull me closer, farther up his lap. “Little Terror, behave. He couldn’t even if he tried.”

“Is that a challenge?” Nate flashes his pearly white teeth. “Because I’m game.”

“No fucking games!” Bishop snaps, and everyone looks to him.

“Well, that’s a fucking first,” Tillie mutters.

Bishop flips her off. “Pretty sure we can at least agree on this, Tills.”

“Actually, yes.”

“Great, wanna put the gun away then, baby, hmmm?” Nate says lazily. Eli erupts into fits of laughter and Hunter is shaking his head as if this is a common occurrence.