Twisted Kingdom (Royal Elite 3)

Now that all those reasons vanished, I’m possessed by this need to check up on him. To just look at him.

He’s a drug, Aiden. I’m just a loser on withdrawal.

This is not healthy, but whatever.

I miss him. As far as I know, there’s no cure for that, so I’ll just scroll through his IG.

He uploaded the last picture about half an hour ago. It’s a black and white shot of the surface of his pool. No caption.

Since it’s late, he must be having trouble sleeping.

I wonder if he’s also thinking about those days in the basement. Maybe he, too, was woken up because of a memory from the past.

A deep longing hits me out of nowhere. It tastes sour, but also delicious.

The longer I stare at his face in the pictures, at his midnight hair and cloudy eyes, at his infectious smile and the devil inside, the harder I’m tempted to reach out to him.

I can hit ‘like’ and alert him to the fact that I’m online. That I’m awake and thinking about him and our fucked up past.

The song switches to Things We Lost in The Fire by Bastille.

I exit his Instagram before I do something I’ll regret come morning. I shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions this late.

I lie in bed and watch the neon blue numbers on the nightstand, but I can’t quite let go of my phone.

Agnus got everyone of us that same alarm clock with blue numbers instead of red. He said it’s better for relaxation.

He’s always busy making our lives better down to the smallest details. Knox mentioned that he took care of them, the company, and my comatose Dad during the past ten years.

The loyalty he holds for Dad is admirable, to say the least.

Knox says Agnus’ only fault is being too quiet.

I disagree. It’s such a rare quality. Agnus doesn’t speak unless he’s spoken to and his answers are always short and straight to the point.

My phone vibrates. I jump.

My lips part and my toes curl at the name on the screen.

Aiden: Asleep?

Holy shit.

Does he have telepathic powers or something? I rush back to Instagram and check if I left a like by mistake.

Nothing. Thank God.

Aiden: You’re not.

I mark the texts as read, but I don’t reply.

Aiden: Hmm. I like it when you’re stubborn, sweetheart. It makes me rock hard thinking about how to fuck that defiance out of you.

My muscles’ memory kicks into gear.

I’m thrown back to the times Aiden wrapped his hand around my throat and pounded into me like a mad man in need of his sanity. Like he can’t get deep enough or fuck me hard enough.

My core springs back to life at the memory.