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And they look the part to a T.
There are more than just the Kings present. They’ve come with an entourage of other men and a few provocatively dressed women doused heavily in makeup. From the look on my brother’s face, he wasn’t expecting a party.
“She doesn’t look like the princess you described,” one of the men rumbles, his voice a deep baritone. My spine stiffens, muscles coiling as my body readies itself to flee. My fight-or-flight mechanism leans heavily toward flight. Fighting never gets me anywhere. Yet, as if under a spell, my body reacts without thought, my eyes dragging up to meet his defiantly.
His gaze clashes with mine, and my eyes round at the fervent red of his irises. Pools of blood. That’s what they remind me of. Is that my fate? This must be Drystan, the leader. He appears older than the rest. His skin, though nearly flawless, carries a hint of age. Salt and pepper weave throughout his trimmed beard and mustache, streaking through coiffed hair. Unlike my father, the color doesn’t make him look old. It makes him look distinguished. He turns and arches a perfectly manicured eyebrow at my brother, drawing my attention to the gold hoops in his ears. Something stirs within me at his presence, and I unconsciously lick my lips.
“She looks like a sacrificial lamb,” another one pipes up, a soft French accent sifting through his tone. So soft I almost miss it. Another King, but I don’t know his name. Drystan is the only name I’ve ever heard uttered in my father’s office. A smirk snakes across lips as he surveys my body as if I’m nothing more than cheap meat he’s buying at the market. “I bet those luscious lips would feel exquisite around my cock.”
The horde of men and women around him laugh as my cheeks heat at the crass words. He’s taller than the other two. At least six foot two. He’s muscled, but he isn’t broad like the other one in their group. The quiet one who didn’t laugh along with the rest of them. Still, his entire being screams predator, just like his friends. His mahogany skin glows beneath the lights of the chandelier above us, the silver rings glinting in his hair as he shakes his head slightly in amusement.
The big brutish one remains quiet, standing back from the crowd slightly as they move in around me. Swallowing, I take a step back as some of the Kings’ entourage forms a half circle with me at the center.
“She looks like a tasty young thing, boss.” Warily, I track one of the men on my right. He’s a piggish-looking one with a snout-like nose and beady eyes. “Young and ripe for the picking.” Holding my head high, I refuse to let them see how their demeaning words affect me.
“She does,” Drystan agrees, his top teeth coming out to snag his bottom lip as he continues to appraise me. A hand runs down my backside, and one of the men behind me chuckles.
“Get your hands off me,” I snarl, pushing his arm away from me. Those around me laugh. Not the Kings, though.
“She’s got claws,” the brutish one hums quietly as he stalks toward me with the others. He stops a few inches in front of me. I meet his gaze head-on, his eyes holding me in their thrall. A Cheshire grin slips across his face. Now I know what a canary feels like when trapped by a cat. One simple action, and I’m a goner.
“Feisty.” He chuckles darkly.
“Beautiful,” the French-accented one adds in, his own smile stretching wide across his face. It’s stunning, and for a moment, I’m caught up in the beauty of his ageless face.
“Innocent,” the last one adds, another quiet hum. Almost contemplative. Just maybe he isn’t as bad as the others. He can be a sort of sanctuary. A haven… “Innocent pussy is never worth the trouble, though. Even if it is tight and hot and wet—the innocent ones always want something more than just a good fuck.”
Never mind.
I take it back. They’re all assholes.
Another leering laugh from the surrounding crowd.
“Still—” Drystan extends his hand to stroke my cheek, but I take a step back. I’m immediately grabbed by two of his men, their meaty hands wrapping around my upper arms as they hold me still, not allowing me to retreat.
Drystan’s grin vanishes, but now there’s something worse in his gaze. Interest. Moving my limbs, I struggle to get free from my captors, but their strength is ten times that of mine. They’re not vampires. They can’t be, but whatever they are, they’re strong. I hear my brother murmur something in the background, but it’s garbled. He’s quickly silenced by Drystan, who holds up a finger in warning. Was he standing up for me? Now? A little late for acting like the protective older sibling.
Drystan steps closer, slowly running his fingers along my cheek, making a show of it now that I can’t deny him. He tilts his head to the side, examining the innocent lace before tearing through it with ease. A gasp stifles itself in my throat, my muscles tensing as I instinctively try to cover myself.
He hasn’t torn it far. Just enough so that the front falls open, exposing my neck and the tops of my breasts. My skin erupts in goose bumps where he touches as he burns a trail down my throat to my exposed collarbone, dipping down my sternum. I renew my struggle when his knuckles graze along the tops of my breasts.
“Your name.” It’s not a question. He’s demanding that I tell him. Why? Doesn’t he already know who I am? I swallow. Maybe if I keep defying him, he won’t want me. Dare I? My muscles coil tighter as his hand dips beneath the torn fabric of my dress. His large, calloused hand envelops one of my breasts. He kneads it softly, one finger tracing my nipple, as if in warning.
“I will not ask again.” He’s still staring straight at me. His eyes boring into mine as if he can see into the depths of my soul. When I don’t answer after a few moments, his gentle stroking stops, and I cry out in shock. The fucker pinched my nipple. Sure, it was short-lived, but it hurt like hell.
“So responsive for you.” The brutish one dips his head, one side of his mouth lilting up.
“Let’s try again, shall we?” Drystan questions, raising a brow. His hand shifts from my right breast to the left. I understand his game now.
“Thalia.” My name rushes out from my lips, but it doesn’t deter his wandering hand from roaming over my left breast. I’m waiting for him to hurt me again, but there’s nothing. Instead, he drags his hand from beneath the fabric and strokes my cheek again.
“Good girl,” he leans in and whispers. “A beautiful name for such an exquisite flower.” With a nod of his head, I’m released from his men’s hold. Straightening himself, Drystan smiles again as he stares down at me. My cheeks heat and no doubt my entire face is red as a tomato as a result of his crass display of power.
“Pack some of your things, little lamb,” he tells me. “One bag will suffice.” He turns to my brother. “We will take your invitation to stay the night. We’ll be leaving at first light.”
I’ve never seen my brother scared before, but the look on his face now is priceless. His olive skin has paled, eyes rounded in fear as Drystan stalks from the room, the other two Kings at his side. To some, it might appear as if he holds more power, but I can see their triad for what it really is.
A brotherhood.
