Two Kingdoms Page 3

  I wiggle my eyebrows at them when they both simply stare at me.

  “Don’t play games, Paca,” Ezekiel groans as Kai walks out, laughing quietly to himself as he goes.

  “I’m apparently a child of the Devil. Games are just a part of my genetic makeup. I’d apologize, but I don’t have the ability to feel guilt,” I state dryly. “Now, were you my first? You seem a little territorial over my vagina right now.”

  My gaze stays fixed on him as I wait very expectantly.

  He just narrows his eyes at me.

  “Can you tell us more about the deal?” he asks, trying to use a softer approach to coax me into sharing all the details yet again.

  Going phantom, I let the book drop through me and zap myself to the bathroom doorway before the book ever hits the bed.

  “I’m not spending what is possibly very limited time alive repeating myself on a loop,” I tell him dismissively.

  He curses as I leave him behind, and I strain my hearing when I feel him siphon out of the room.

  Turning on the shower, I zap myself downstairs, staying phantom and quiet as I eavesdrop on their conversation. I remain hidden in the billiard room beside Jude’s bedroom as the muffled voices get clearer.

  “If it’s a trap, we’re dead,” Jude is saying.

  It’s not a trap—if they’re discussing the deal, that is. The more I think about it, the more I trust it to be true. Lucifer could have simply killed me if he truly wanted me dead. Then again, I suppose he could be playing some sort of game…

  I’ve read a lot about the Royals—myself included. Games really are a huge piece of our personalities, though there’s no decidedly logical explanation as to why. Lack of conscience? No true motivation to take things very seriously?

  “True, but why bother trapping us when he knows exactly where we are?” Ezekiel asks, bringing me back to the eavesdropping I’m supposed to be doing.

  “Because all the previous attempts on our lives have been in vain. What if this is his smart-play to end the game once and for all?” Kai asks quietly.

  “He could have done that in hell’s throat,” Ezekiel points out.

  “He could have done that when he called us in for a meeting,” Gage adds.

  “That’s before he knew Paca had no memories. Knowledge is power,” Jude drawls.

  They all grow quiet for a second.

  “Let’s say this is a trap, just to be safe. How do we play it?” Ezekiel asks.

  So they do suspect Lucifer? Or this is just a precautionary measure? They’ve been trying to convince me it couldn’t be him. Just as I start agreeing with them, they change their minds?

  Those moody sons of bitches. I think being moody is secretly their balance, despite all that other drivel about leashing emotions that Gage was going on about in the third trial.

  I need a handbook: How to Sync Mensies with Your Harem.

  “Then we fight our way out. She amplifies our power,” Gage points out.

  “It strengthens our bond to her when we use her,” Ezekiel says quietly, his tone not telling me if that’s a good thing or terrible thing.

  “Good,” Kai states flippantly. “The stronger the bond, the stronger we grow. Already I feel stronger than ever, and we apparently need to be at full strength to face whatever the hell is coming for us. Because we all feel it; something is coming.”

  A dark chill slithers up my ghostly spine as I continue to listen. Something is definitely coming, I agree, mentally pretending I’m also a part of this important conversation.

  “Then we’ll go tomorrow. Tonight, we try to forget we might die tomorrow,” Gage says on a groan.

  “I’ll let Paca know once she’s out of the shower,” Ezekiel tells them.

  I wait for a second to see if they’re going to object.

  When I hear them walking out instead, I zap myself back upstairs and into the shower, leaving myself naked as I turn whole under the warm, inviting spray.

  I’m not sure how long I’m in here, but when I’m finally done, I elect to wrap up in a towel instead of turning phantom and cheating the drying process the way I usually do.

  Sometimes it’s nice to do the work yourself.

  With my hair still wet and the towel tightly bound around my middle, I step out into my room, and—

  A scream almost bubbles out of me, but a strong hand clamps around my mouth seconds before the towel is violently ripped away from my body. The only thing that stops me from going phantom is catching sight of Ezekiel in the mirror. He presses against my back as he shoves me forward, pushing me into the bed.

  My damp body presses into the bedding, and my sound of surprise gets trapped in a muffled gasp.

  Ezekiel stares down at me, even as he keeps one hand against my back, holding me in place, while his eyes rake over my body. He’s fully naked, standing behind me like a blond Adonis in need of something dark and sinful.

  A sexy, sinister look gleams in his eyes when he catches my mirror-watching, and a smirk dons his lips as my stomach clenches in anticipation. Roughly, he shoves one hand in my hair, and another, more distinguished sound of surprise slips out of me as he tugs my head back, forcing my body to bow in compliance.

  The second I squirm, he thrusts into me without warning, burying himself halfway inside before allowing me to fully bend again, giving himself a better angle for the next thrust. It’s just shy of painful, since I’m nowhere nearly wet enough. But the pain is exquisite.

  He pulls back just a little and shoves himself inside me again, this time forcing himself all the way in. I try to move up on the bed, but he’s so damn strong that he just wrangles me in place, pulling my hair hard enough to make me cry out as he starts thrashing with violent control.

  Sensationally powerless and exquisitely helpless, all I can do is watch him in the mirror.

  His other hand clutches my hip, anchoring me to him as he takes what he wants. Almost angrily, his hips crash against my ass as he drives in and out. His teeth grit in concentration as he watches himself disappear inside me…and withdraw from my body…over and over, his speed building.

  I’m so wet now that it’s an easy glide, and my body hums with so much desire that I start to ache. It feels too vulnerable. Too exposed. Too fucking good.

  Each sound that tears from my throat is suppressed by my need to be quiet, worried one of the guys will come in and stop him. I’m too desperate to finish to risk that happening.

  Movement to my right causes me to attempt to turn my head, but Ezekiel yanks at my hair harder, forcing me to remain right where he wants me. That blessed bite of pain only spikes the heat in my blood, stirring inside me with a vitalizing force.

  “She’s fucking beautiful,” I hear Gage say quietly, though there’s a hint of menace in a statement that should sound far more endearing.

  “Yes,” Ezekiel grits out as he continues to possess every current piece of me. “She is.”

  Gage moves to be in front of us, his eyes on my face as he leans against the wall. He watches as Ezekiel savagely takes my body like it’s his to do with as he pleases. I’m too caught in the thrall to do anything but stare back, lost to sensation—both pain and pleasure bound into one divine package.

  After freeing up a hand, I snake it between my thighs, causing Gage’s eyes to flare with heat as I aide in hurdling myself over that line.

  “Fuck,” Ezekiel groans when my orgasm surprises me, peaking far too soon.

  My eyes stay barely open, even as the pleasure crashes over me, around me, and through me. My gaze holds Gage’s while Ezekiel’s thrusts grow more insistent.

  He releases my hair to grab onto my other hip. I almost feel hollow and empty in the very next second when he pulls out and spins me around.

  My back drops to the bed as I try to process what’s going on, until he comes down on top of me again, letting me see the desperation on his face as he pushes back inside me and starts fucking me anew.

  Gage suddenly grabs my hands, roughly pinning them
to the bed above my head.

  “Will you be able to?” he asks Ezekiel, which confuses the hell out of me, since I can’t follow a conversation and fully revel in all the incredible sensations going on at once.

  Ezekiel’s answer seems to come in an incoherent string of words as his eyes roll back in his head and his hips jerk against me in short, hard motions. He gives another few lazy rolls of his hips, a look of relaxed bliss highlighting every hard feature on his face as it visibly softens.

  He finally stills inside me, and his eyes slowly peek open as a daring little grin spreads across his face.

  “Fucking amazing,” he says on a breath before he’s kissing me, his hips beginning to rock again, even though he’s not hard inside me anymore. “I want to fuck her all day,” he adds on a groan against my lips.

  “Comoara trădătoare,” Gage says closer to my ear before he nips it.

  He releases my hands and pushes off from the bed, as Ezekiel kisses down my neck.

  “You want a turn?” Ezekiel asks him, even though his hips are still rocking like he’s rushing his dick to get hard again.

  “He can’t,” I say with a grin, letting my fingers come up to tangle in Ezekiel’s hair as he continues kissing a trail down my neck. My eyes stay on Gage as I add, “He’s not my current favorite.”

  Ezekiel’s laughter rumbles against me, as Gage narrows his eyes.

  “How did you become her favorite?” Gage asks in a bored drawl that doesn’t complement his intense eyes.

  “I gave her a taste of a fantasy,” Ezekiel murmurs against my throat.

  A moan passes through my lips when I feel him start to grow hard again at last, as he runs his lips teasingly up my throat with his incredibly skilled mouth.

  Two more bodies are suddenly bursting into the room, and Ezekiel barely lifts his head to smirk at them as they take in the scene.

  Kai starts toward us, a clear, understandable look in his eyes. He wants a turn.

  I can’t make it too easy on them. I mean, after all, I had to die to get them to trust me. They at least need to work for it. I bet that’s in the How to Control Your Harem guidebook. I bet the old, incurably vain me wrote it.

  Bitch.

  “Did she see something shiny?” I hear Kai ask, smirking at me as I blink out of my distracting train of thought.

  I realize they’re all staring at me like they’re amused. Just how long have I been in my head?

  “You’re not my favorite anymore,” I tell him dismissively. “All of you should leave so we can finish,” I add.

  Gage rolls his eyes, but Jude flips me off.

  “We have a new invitation to look at, so get your dick out of her. The words won’t appear until all five of us put blood on it,” Jude tells us. Rather crudely, I might add.

  Hell people are so insensitive.

  “What?” I ask, confused as Ezekiel pulls out of me and leaves me in a pile of mushy muscles and weak limbs.

  I go phantom, mostly to snuff out the lingering tingles of pleasure since Ezekiel has left me in a drugged state, then dress myself and turn whole.

  Jude reaches for my hand, and I give it to him. When he pulls out a knife, I don’t even flinch.

  His lips twitch as he slices my hand open, and that does make me flinch; I don’t enjoy this particular burn of pain.

  Gage pushes the invitation under my hand. He and Ezekiel add their blood to it, as a solitary drop falls from mine. The skin quickly mends before I even fully look away.

  “Did you tell her?” Jude asks Ezekiel as the words start to form on the invitation.

  “Didn’t get to that yet,” Ezekiel announces with a smug tone before facing me. “We’re going down below tomorrow to see if we really can venture that far. We thought you could stay in phantom form at first, and then distract Lamar for us.”

  Frowning, I tilt my head.

  “We’ll just be doing a quick book-grab,” Kai goes on, adding to the lie.

  “We need to see if there’s any more information we can use to our advantage without them monitoring which books we take,” Gage goes on, only piling on at this point.

  “I see,” I say tightly.

  I guess they think I deserve this. It’s a reminder that I’m still not one of them in this lifetime the way I was the last one. It’s not fair to mourn the loss of a bond I can’t truly remember.

  That version of us had millennia to form that bond, so I need to be a little more patient. Weirdly, patience is supposed to be one of my purities. Where the hell is it hiding?

  “Fine. I’ll distract him,” I offer, knowing the only route to closeness is earning it.

  Words start appearing on the paper, which fortunately draws their eyes off me. But I refrain from smirking when I see what it says.

  Residents of Kincaid Manor,

  The Devil himself requests your attendance at tonight’s gala.

  That fucks up their plans, since they wanted to wait until tomorrow to manipulate me and lie some more. I’m not sure why I’m so amused by this, but there’s a sense of déjà vu.

  But my smirk vanishes when I read the rest.

  Dress formally. Paca comes out tonight so the family can look united once again. Failure to do so will result in unfavorable consequences. Black tie required.

  Best wishes,

  Lucifer

  The Devil

  The Ruler of Hell

  King of Sin

  Maker of Monsters

  Master of Dark Influence

  The list goes on, since apparently Lucifer considers himself important enough to have a hundred other titles. Little vain if you ask me. I bet my titles were more awesome.

  “She’s wondering if she has any titles behind her name right now,” Gage says, lips twitching as I jerk my head up like a guilty girl.

  “No I’m not,” I say too quickly.

  Jude and Kai just quirk their disbelieving little judgy eyebrows at me.

  I may can play along with things, but I really am bad at deception. How is that fair? I’m hell spawn.

  “It’s like he knew we were plotting something, and he’s forcing our fucking hand to reveal her to everyone who wants her dead,” Ezekiel growls.

  Jude shoots him a glare, and I play dumb, pretending not to notice the slip. I’m a little detached at the moment, trying to calculate all the factors before deciding how to feel about their lies and secrets.

  For whatever reason, I feel like I should deceive them a little too. Surely I can be at least a little good at deception, so long as I keep my mouth shut.

  It also makes me sympathize for a moment with Lamar. I’m not capable of empathy, but understanding one’s point of view without genuine empathy is still possible.

  I reach back and grab my balance book, reading over my purities. Nope, no empathy. Just double checking.

  “We’re weaker up here,” I say, gesturing around us absently. “We’re clinging to the surface, and he’s forcing us below because he wants me stronger. I feel so much stronger down there.”

  “You’re the Devil’s daughter. Of course you’re strongest there,” Jude states dispassionately.

  I turn to face him. “I’m still healing from the first death I must have suffered, and then I suffered a second one. Since then, I’ve been stalled without any new level-ups.”

  The flicker of regret in his eyes has me curious. From what I can tell, no one in hell can survive with the ability to feel guilt, so I know he doesn’t have that purity. Then I remember what Lamar said about true, unpersuaded regret.

  “I’m not trying to take a jab, Jude. I’m pointing out that Lucifer wants me there, and he’s trying to force our hand. Because he wants me stronger. Is that a good or bad thing?” I ask him, wondering if any of them will admit they do suspect him now that I’m forcing them to tell the truth or lie to my face.

  Again.

  Jude doesn’t even blink or hesitate to answer. “I don’t see how it could be bad to want his daughter stronger. We’ll go tonight
and see how it plays out. If shit hits the fan, we’ll have an escape plan. But if he wanted us dead—”

  “We’d already be dead,” I say with a tight smile. “I’ve heard you say that enough times to get the point.”

  I pat his shoulder, not calling them out on their lies. Having a best friend would certainly be useful right now, and I miss the relationship I never remember having with Lamar.

  Because as it is, I let them talk amongst themselves, withdrawing as I have a seat in the gown I’ve fashioned. They plot multiple escape-hatch ideas, and even start gathering go-bags, as though we can run and hide from the Devil—The Four Horsmen and The Apocalypse hiding from the Devil.

  It’s laughable on a level they don’t have the sense of humor for.

  Our place isn’t among humans. At least not full time. Not now that we know the truth.

  Stewing over the fact I’m being forced into this after winning that sword match, I creep out while they’re busy doing their sneaky thing and go do my own sneaky thing.

  You know…for balance.

  Chapter 4

  “Boo!”

  Lamar squeals like a little girl when I appear right in front of him with that one-word, unoriginal opener.

  He clutches his heart as I take a seat in his room, glancing around.

  “Did I do that very often back when we were besties?” I ask him, taking in the nude lover’s painting of him and Manella hanging on the wall across from me.

  I think it’s weird to see that much of one’s manifested sibling amidst the throes of passion, so I quickly look away.

  “Not quite that way,” he says, clearing his throat and trying to recover, even as he beams a telling shade of red.

  Interesting…hell people can blush.

  “So we’re not demons, I’ve been told. What do I call hell people?”

  “Call them by their titles. Royals. Escorts. Castle guards. Prison guards. Spirit balancers—”

  “Spirit balancers?” I ask him, keeping my eyes on him just in case I’m wrong and he tries to stab me in the gut with another powerful weapon that might have some secret royal killing ability.