Kings of Blood and Money (Underworld Kings)

“Do you think they know? Saw us come in here? Can hear your moans, Frey?” I ask, wrapping my arm around her waist, dipping my fingers between the folds of her pussy massaging her clit.

“Oh…oh…oh...Remi,” she cries, her orgasm hitting hard, making her legs shudder and hands slip down the frame.

I pull out of her, pumping my release across her ass cheeks. I want to coat every inch of her in my cum.

Catching my breath, I fetch a towel from the bathroom and clean her up, then help her into her shorts and pull her shirt back into place. “I want you to know I don’t want to hide you—hide us. I get it’s a little weird,” I shrug, “but when you’re ready, if you want to tell Dad, people, I’m okay with that.”

Her fingers reach out, dancing over my face. “What if he forbids it? He’s always tried to keep us apart,” she murmurs. “Have you ever wondered why?”

“I don’t care why.” I take her hand from my face, kissing her fingers. “All I care about is what I’m feeling—what you feel.” My heart hammers against my ribcage. Is she feeling this?

Knuckles rap against the window, startling us both. “Stop having fun without me,” Noah calls through the window.

A naughty grin lifts her lips. Then she giggles, and my heart finds its rhythm again.

Twenty-Six

Noah

Installation of the cameras is complete. A little alert on my phone highlights there’s movement in the kitchen, proving they’re working efficiently. Bringing the feed up, I find Freya making something to eat. Her face keeps lifting to the camera. It could become addicting being able to watch her every move. She’s enthralling. Every inch of her conjured inappropriate thoughts, making my mouth water. “If you’re hungry, I could order in,” I say, entering the kitchen.

A smile lights her beautiful face. “This will be fine. You may want to order for Remi, though. He almost keeled over when I offered him a sandwich.”

Chuckling, I point to the salad she has out. “It’s the healthy stuff that puts him off,” I muse, moving the hair off the back of her neck, kissing the soft skin there. A welcomed sigh passes her lips. Tilting her head, she gives me better access, her small frame pushing into me.

“Where is Remi?” I ask, skating my fingertips down her arms. He hasn’t left her side since she got home.

“Booking a hotel for tomorrow,” she says dreamily. “He said there’s a fair in town he’s going to take me to. I’ve never been to one.”

Excitement bleeds into her words, a giddy smile on her lips as she adds lettuce to a slice of bread. Part of me wishes I could go with them, but I also want to get this party over and done with.

Stacking her bread with meat, she places another slice on top and doesn’t bother to cut through it before picking it up and taking a bite.

“Good?” I chuckle when she groans with delight.

“So good.” She nods while swallowing. Her gaze darts to the small, black, half-globe camera in the corner of the room. “Will they be filming all the time?”

“Do they bother you?” I ask, wrapping an arm around her waist, turning her into me.

Shrugging her shoulder, she places her sandwich on a plate, looping her arms around my neck. “Who has access to them?” She’s worried about Father being able to watch her—us.

“Me. They don’t record, Freya, just a live feed. It prompts an alert straight to my phone when the sensor is triggered. It’s just so I can keep an eye on everyone’s whereabouts tomorrow.” Subtly, her attention slips to the alarmed door across the room.

“Then they come down?” she breathes. “After the party?”

“You worried I’ll catch you doing something you shouldn’t?” I tease, but her body stiffens. It’s slight, but I feel it, sense the change.

“Of course not.” Sighing, she drops her arms and pulls out of my grasp, going back to her sandwich.

“How was your shopping trip?” I change the subject.

She doesn’t look at me. Her fingers play with the bread now, her appetite gone. Something is off with her. I don’t like it.

“Fine.” She shrugs.

“What did you buy?” I round the counter and open the fridge, taking out a beer.

“I thought you liked to keep a clear head?” She avoids my question by asking one of her own.

“Has Remi been talking again?” I smirk around the lip of the bottle, taking a hearty swig.

“He answers my questions.” She holds her hand out toward my bottle, wiggling her fingers in a gimme gesture.

“You won’t like it,” I warn, but she wiggles her fingers again anyway.

“I enjoy the buzz,” she teases, tipping it to her lips once I pass it over.

“So, he answers your questions, does he? Is that a dig at me, little Freya?” Tension fills the space between us, swirling, manifesting.