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“Halloween’s coming up,” I smirk around my joint. “We can play with the girls a bit.”
Bishop’s mouth curls. “I’m down for that.”
“Party in the cemetery?”
Brantley smirks. “I’m keen for that.”
Movement catches my eyes on the TV, and we all snap to it, watching as Tillie rushes around the room and then swings the door open. We hit the TV off as we hear the door open and close down the hallway.
She enters. “Hey, Bran—” Then stops. “What did I just interrupt?”
Her hair has been straightened, her face full of makeup. I know she loves that shit, but she doesn’t need it.
“Nothing.” Then I fish my keys out of my pocket and fling them toward her. She catches them in mid-air. “And you’re taking my car…” When I said she wasn’t riding on anything to do with Brantley, I wasn’t just meaning his cock.
Her eyes widen. “Thanks. Mine should be here tomorrow.”
“You bought a car?” Brantley asks and she drops to the floor, slipping her Chuck Taylors onto her feet.
“Yeah, when Madison and I went shopping, I bought a car.”
“What kind?” Brantley and his questions.
“Let me guess,” I mutter. “A Range Rover.”
“Nope,” she declares, standing back up with my keys in her hand. “A Porsche.”
“Did you get it in black?” I ask, my eyes coming to hers. It’s tradition for all of The Kings to ride in black cars. It started when we became Kings of course. It’s not actually part of The Commandments.
She keeps them on mine, but they lack the typical fire that she normally has. Because she’s hiding something, something she thinks I don’t know. Her lack of faith in The Kings is tugging on my patience.
“Nope.” She smirks, looking down at Brantley. “Blood red.”
Brantley laughs and then looks toward me. “I told you—red is her color.”
I roll my eyes. “Be back by three.”
She waves us all off and makes her way out the front door. We all sit in silence until we hear my loud engine start up and take off down the driveway.
“Three, two, one—” We all stand and make our way out to the two Range Rovers parked at the front. I jump in the driver’s seat of one, with Bishop in the other.
“Get Dough” by Dead Obies starts pulsing through the sound system and Brantley cranks it up. It’s good. I need a distraction from my thoughts.
We pull out onto the main road. Brantley pushes a few buttons, lighting up the GPS on my car. We all had them installed when we got them. It’s just something we do as a precaution. Every single King and close associate, like wives and such, have the same systems installed. A little green light flickers, signaling where she is. Heading into the city.
My phone rings. I switch it to speaker. “What?”
“I’m about to meet her now,” my dad says into the phone. “Nate?”
I don’t answer, running my hand over my jaw. “What?”
“She’s in danger. You must know this.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Yeah, I do.”
“And what are you all doing about the situation that holds the last living Stuprum in danger?”
I shuffle in my seat. “We’ve got a plan.”
“Care to share?”
“Fuck no!” I scoff. “You’re nomad, therefore you’re even less trustworthy than a fucking Rebel and The fucking Circle.”
He sighs. “I’m also your father, and the peace—”
I hang up, tossing my phone onto Brantley’s lap.
“How is this cunt trying to act like daddy Malum now?” Brantley mutters. “Motherfucker.”
I brush him off.
“You calling red on Tillie now?” Brantley asks, watching me out of the corner of his eye. When you call red on a girl, that’s when all Kings have to back the fuck off her. You only get one girl ever that you can call red on. Meaning she can’t be shared. Bishop never did until after Daemon died.
I think over Brantley’s words. If I call red on her, that’s fucking it. No one is going to touch her. Flirt? Yeah, but no more little fuck arounds between the three of us—and she’s off limits to Brantley. Now, a reasonable man wouldn’t call red on a chick until they’ve been together as in official—for a while. You know, like Bishop and Madison. However, I’m not fucking reasonable at all.
“Yeah, fucking aye I am.”
Everyone bursts out laughing, Brantley included.
“Finally. How’d you get her to forgive you?” Brantley grins.
“Huh?” I look over at him innocently. “Oh, she hasn’t forgiven me and we’re not together. Might not ever be, might be next week—who fucking knows.”
“You just called red on her!” Brantley yells around his laughter.
“Yeah.” I nod my head. “Because none of you fucks are to go near her with your cocks.”
“Damn,” Brantley chuckles. “Never in the history of The Elite Kings Club has anyone ever splashed red over a girl without being in a relationship with her.”
“Well, there is only one me.” I can’t help the cocky smile on my face.
