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

I drag my tired body upstairs. The house is quiet for how many people are sleeping inside of it. I find our bedroom and drop down on top of the bedcovers, not even bothering to shower or to get beneath them.

The mattress sinks beside me and I turn onto my side, wincing when my legs feel numb from pins and needles. I don’t know what time it is, but I’m guessing I had a decent amount of sleep, so it’s either really early or really late.

He’s shirtless and wearing nothing but his briefs, sliding under the covers. I don’t speak. Nervous with what to say to him. His hand finds me as he wraps me in his arms, pulling me into his chest. I sigh when I feel his skin against mine, and it’s not long before we’re both drifting off. Without noise. Without the need to speak. Just in comfortable silence.

I fling my arm onto the other side of the bed the next morning, hoping to find Brantley there, but I’m met with an emptiness big enough to deepen the void inside my heart. It’s just after six a.m. Why is he awake?

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, brushing my hair away from my face when there’s a knock on my door. “Come in.”

“Morning,” Tillie says from the threshold. I look up to see she’s carrying a longboard filled with food. I cross my legs beneath myself. Did she just bring me breakfast in bed?

I wave her onto the bed, patting the puffed-up blankets. “What have you got?”

“Well,” she pipes up, placing the breakfast platter on the bed sheet, just as Madison strolls in swiping a towel over her face. She’s dressed in gym clothes, a sports bra and tight little spandex shorts.

“Have you been fucking running?” Tillie asks, throwing a piece of bacon at her as she snuggles into the blankets of my bed.

Madison closes the door, picking up the discarded bacon and biting into it. “Tillie, I’m pregnant. That doesn’t mean my love for fitness stops.”

Tillie rolls her eyes. “I love you, but no.”

Madison kicks off her runners and sits at the bottom of my bed. “How are you feeling?” She chews on the single piece of bacon, her eyes on mine.

I run my tongue over my top lip and reach for one of the egg muffins. “He’s not okay. I think he’s upset with me about the pregnancy, but I just don’t know if he’s upset because I’m pregnant or because I didn’t tell him that I was pregnant.” I sink my teeth into the muffin and stifle a moan when salted butter slips down my throat. God. Has food always tasted this good, or does pregnancy just make you think it is?

“He will come around,” Madison says, tapping my leg. “If there’s one thing I have learned from being with Bishop, it’s that sometimes it’s not easy to love them. Actually, I would go so far as to say that they’re probably the most unlovable men walking this earth.”

“Geez, Mads. Tell us how you really feel…” Tillie’s fingers wrap around her hot chocolate.

“No, I’m serious,” Madison says, picking at the family of grapes on the platter. She slips one between her lips and chews slowly. “They’re not easy to love, but that’s what makes their love worth it in the end. Because you both had to fight for it. Blood, guts, gore, and at times, barely hanging on by the edges of your claws. You hang on to them because, even when they don’t love you back, what they give you is enough until they do.” Her eyes come to mine. “Brantley is by far the worst of their kind, Saint. When I first met him in The Hamptons, he sent chills down my spine that I have never been able to shake. But that monster, that beautifully flawed, dark and demonic monster loves you. In his own fucked-up way he does. And if anyone is an expert on fucked-up love, it’s me.” She rolls her eyes. “You should fight for him.” Even though I already knew what she had said, it still pains me to hold back the tears that threaten. I already love him. I think I loved him the very first day he took my hand and led me into his hell. He didn’t lead me into hell to suffer; he brought me in to sit beside his throne.

“I will fight for him, Madison.” I place the egg muffin back onto the tray, my appetite suppressed. “I will always fight for him.”

“Good,” Tillie adds, placing her now empty mug on the platter and stretching her arms over her head. “Because if there’s anyone that can tolerate Bran Bran, it’s you.”

We continue eating as Madison shares the story of when she first met Bailey. She said she was a fighter from the beginning, and when she found out that she was a Vitiosis, she wasn’t at all surprised.