Dirty Little Secrets (Kings of Bolten 1)

“Not of her. It’s clear she’ll fuck in exchange for anything anyone will give her.” Levin poured his drink.

We hadn’t had a lot of conversations, Levin and I, and that was mostly due to him being a raging asshole to me. But I was annoyed.

“Maybe you should follow in my footsteps. Maybe someone could pull that stick out of your ass while they’re down there.”

Vincent let out a loud burst of laughter. Even Dom smirked, a unique look for his serious face.

Levin turned to me, glaring. “Easy, little girl. You might turn up dead.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” I snapped back as he downed a glass of whiskey. “You’re all talk and no action. All moody and broody like someone killed your puppy. Or maybe they killed someone you loved.”

Levin growled and in the blink of an eye was on top of me, pressing me into Dom’s bed, his hand tight around my throat.

“Don’t fucking talk to me about shit you know nothing about,” he snarled, tightening his grip.

I bucked beneath him, panic oozing through me as I clawed at his hands.

“You’re another fucking whore here to take whatever you can to get ahead. A fucking D’Angelou, trying to get whatever she wants.”

Stars dotted my vision. So much for Dominic protecting me. He was going to let Levin kill me.

My body felt heavy as my eyelids fluttered. My hands fell away just as Dominic and Vincent pulled him off me.

I choked and gasped, hauling in mouthfuls of air before I darted off the bed and stumbled, falling to the floor.

“Easy, B,” Vincent said, coming to help me up.

I shoved him away from me, my eyes burning.

“Fucking liar,” I rasped at Dom who was staring back at me.

Levin tugged at his own hair beside him. Dom had sworn to protect me. I guessed I was wrong thinking it included from his own crew.

“B, come on—"

“Fuck you.” I shoved Vincent away, my throat aching. My voice sounded like shit. “Fuck all of you.”

“Bianca,” Dom’s voice boomed out.

I shook my head at him as I backed away. “No. I’m leaving.”

“Vincent will walk you—”

“I’m not a fucking dog.” I jerked the door open and slammed it closed behind me and rushed away.

From one hell straight into another. Fucking figured.

Twenty-Three

Levin

Bianca wouldn’t talk to me. Hell, she wouldn’t talk to any of us. I’d gone too far. I’d snapped on her. I was smart enough to know I’d fucked up. Dom had punched me in the face afterwards, putting me in my place, and Vincent had shouted obscenities at me.

I didn’t know how to fix things. I’d almost killed her.

Remorse was eating me up inside. I hated that I felt it for her. Fucking D’Angelou. I didn’t know how to make things right. Or if I even should. I was a piece of shit for doing it. That wasn’t me. I mean, it was, but it wasn’t, and for that, I was kicking my own ass.

Fuck.