So yeah, he understood complications with parents.
“Tell me you need my help,” he said in a low voice.
When nothing came back at him, he cocked a brow. “You ask a male to put his life on the line for you, you can damn well make the request properly. And I’m not too proud to admit that I’m a little bit hurt.”
L.W. rolled his eyes. “About what.”
“That the only reason you’re coming to me is because your eyes are failing and it’s dawned on you that you might not be able to go it alone. Oh, and P.S., I rubbed my fucking feet raw trying to find you two nights ago. Blisters all over them. If I were a human, I’d be crippled.”
“I’ll buy you orthotics.”
“And Band-Aids.”
“Deal.”
Except then L.W. lowered his chin and stared out from under his brows. “What’s your answer, aristocrat.”
“What’s the question, prince.”
L.W.’s voice went low and so level, it was all but dead. “Don’t fucking toy with me.”
“So no’s not an option, then.” Shuli rose up off his pillows. “You going to kill me if I don’t play ball, huh? Make it look like an accident in the field tomorrow night? Whoops, good ol’ Shuli got caught in friendly cross fire. How sad. Or maybe it’s more like you slaughter me and mydoggenhere and now, and pretend alesserdid it. Probably better, the latter. If you give me too much time, I might just have to go to the King with your bright idea.”
“Guess we’ll find out, aristocrat. What’s your answer.”
“Tell me you need me,” Shuli shot back.
L.W.’s upper lip lifted from his fangs. “It’s the other way around. You have no purpose, no calling, no reason to get up at night. You’re a fuckboy, trust fund junkie who can’t hide his boredom at the very parties he throws to distract himself from his zero existence. The money you have is inherited, not earned, and you buy your friends with it because it gives you control over them and that way you don’t have to worry about them seeing the real you and judging you for being so fucking useless. You even have to pay for sex because you’re in love with a female who wouldn’t have you if you put a gun to her head on account of—unlike the suck-ups who drink your liquor and snort your coke—her knowing that underneath your thin skin there’s nothing worth fighting for or falling in love with.”
Shuli swallowed through a thick throat. Then he said roughly, “And you’re the one asking me to commit treason with you. So, sorry, your epic, shit-talking soliloquy was nice and all, but you’re not exactly looking like a genius here if you’re choosing me and that’s your opinion of your partner—LittleWrath.”
“Fuck you,” came the growl.
Cupping his ear, Shuli turned his head and motioned toward himself with his free hand. And then he just sat there.
There was an eternity of silence. Until, finally…
“I need you,” the heir to the throne gritted out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Lyric had never used either of the downtown apartments before. She and her brother had each been given one a while ago—a couple of years ago now—in recognition that they were both out of the change and probably should be living lives separate from parental proximity. Except neither she nor Rhamp had moved out of their rooms at the Wheel. Why bother, really. Rhamp used Shuli’s for his private endeavors, and otherwise slept where he always had. For her, she liked being in the community underground location. There was always someone to talk to, something to do, something to learn.
And she’d certainly not needed a place to go for—
“The Commodore?” Dev said as they rounded the corner.
The remark was a casual one, neither here nor there particularly, but she knew that the high-rise was the most luxurious in the city, the Caldwell equivalent of NYC’s the Dakota.
Well, if the latter were modern. And had been through a $100 million renovation about five years ago.
She glanced up at his profile. “It’s just a one-bedroom unit. Nothing fancy.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“I don’t—I mean, I live with my parents.” She paused, expecting him to ask… something, anything. “And my brother.”
As he made some kind ofhmmsound, she wanted him to say something more, but again, that was so ridiculous. There were too many limits on what she could tell him—and anyway, if this was a real “dating”-type deal, details about families eventually led to inquiries about introductions.
