Sancte Diaboli: Part Two (The Elite King's Club 7)

Before she can continue, I ask, “So this is who has been sending those texts?” I’m leaning up on one elbow now, glaring down at her.

She flinches. “Yes.”

“So he’s real? As in, I can feel his blood spill over my hands when I fucking kill him?”

She stares up at me. “Yes.”

“Fucking good. So who is he?”

She breathes out, her eyes turning dim. “Well, I don’t know. That’s the problem.”

A deep growl escapes my mouth and I swing my legs out of bed, tearing the covers from my body and reaching for my phone on the bedside table. The light from the screen blinds me, but I search Bishop’s number and hit dial.

“Brantley,” Saint whispers from behind me, but it’s too late. All I see is fucking red. “Just give me enough time and I’ll figure it out.”

“What?” I snap, shoving her hand off my arm. “As in allow this fucker inside your head to do whatever the fuck he wants to you?” I stand, hitting dial on Bishop again. I start pacing back and forward. “Nah, fuck that. He knows that’s the only way he can get to you. You’re motherfucking untouchable every other way.”

Bishop finally answers. “Fuck, Bran. The fuck?”

“Someone’s inside Saint’s head with her visions. Someone who is fucking appearing as me.”

Bishop grunts and I hear blankets shuffling in the background. “I missed the days where our problems didn’t involve ghosts.”

“Not a fucking ghost.”

“So hypnosis? Telekinesis? What?” Bishop asks, suddenly wide awake.

“Fuck knows, but it’s something.”

“All right. Meet at The Palace in the morning. Seems we got a lot of shit to talk about, but I was thinking at the home tonight that we might need to get the girls onto Perdita. It’s the only place that’s safe, at least until we figure out what the fuck is going on.”

“We can’t leave Saint there. She’s the key to it.” I turn around and squeeze my eyes closed. “B, he’s inside her head every time she closes her eyes. How the fuck can I stop that?” I’m aware my breathing is rigid and the veins in my neck are pulsing one hundred beats a minute.

“Meeting in the morning. Try not to think too much into it. Fuck, you’re just not used to having no control over her.”

“Fuck you,” I snap, hanging up on him and flinging my phone across the room.

“Brantley,” Saint repeats. I grind my teeth. Needing something. Anything to release the angst in my bones. “It’s fine.” It’s not fine. I’m about one more revelation to snapping. Bodies are going to start dropping if I find out one more fucking thing.

I back up against the wall, needing some distance between us. “How’s he getting in?”

“We don’t know.” She crawls up the bed, wrapping her arms around her legs. “Ophelia is going to find out. She knows more about it than me. Can we just worry about it tomorrow?”

I fall down the wall and hike one knee up against my chest while resting my arm over top. “It’s cute how you think I’m getting any sleep tonight. Or fucking ever.”

She slides out from beneath the covers, sliding the scrunchie out of her hair and tossing it onto the floor before curling her fingers beneath my hoodie. She pulls it over her head and drops it onto the floor, tilting her head. “What about now?”

Her swollen breasts move with every breath she takes. I push up from the floor. “You win.” I wrap my fingers around the back of her thighs when I reach her, throwing her onto the bed. She arches her back up as I spread her knees wide. So fucking responsive.

She wriggles beneath my grip, but I tense.

I lower my mouth down onto her inner thigh, sucking her skin into my mouth hard enough to leave the notorious mark of you’re fucking owned. I continue to suck and kiss my way to her clit. She’s panting and moaning, cursing at me every time I blow on her.

“Brantley!” she screams. “Put your damn tongue on me!”

I chuckle deeply, running the tip of my nose up the slit of her pussy. “Okay, baby, damn… chill…” I then stroke her clit with my tongue until she comes in my mouth.

Saint

I’m running on the treadmill the next day—because Brantley won’t let me out of his sight long enough to run the dogs—when Madison pushes through the gym doors, wearing a sports bra and small shorts. Her belly is perfection. A small round, tanned bump. She ties her hair up into a high pony, making her way to the treadmill beside mine.

“So they’re trying to ship Tillie and me to Perdita until this bitch is found.” She pushes some buttons and begins walking.

“That’s a good thing, though, right? Brantley says it’s safe there?”

Madison smiles softly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Beautiful isn’t an efficient enough word to use when describing the overall aesthetic of Perdita, but beneath all of her beauty, there’s a darkness that will never wash away. And aside from that.” She ups her speed and I double check to make sure she hasn’t bumped it too high. The girl is carrying twins. My nieces or nephews. “I don’t know if anyone told you this, but I had a brother. A twin brother.” She rubs circles around her belly. “It’s why I’m having twins, I guess.”