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I ignore his jab as we round the corner and enter the dining room.
The Brothers all watch me carefully. “What the fuck is going on?” Keaton asks as we pull out our seats. “You’re awfully comfortable inside of her.”
I run my hand through my hair, grinning. “You would be too.”
Kyrin kicks me under the table. “You two either fuck or fight.”
I flip him off.
King doesn’t answer, so he leans back in his chair, watching me carefully. “You know after the ritual tonight, we’re heading back home.”
“Yeah,” I answer, spreading my legs wide.
“So you know you both need to figure that shit out before we go back on the road. Are you fighting or fucking, because you can’t be both?”
I snort. “It worked well with you and Perse, and we don’t fight. Sass isn’t into the dramatics of shit.”
He glares at me. “Perse has fire inside of her, and we never fought or pushed each other around during a show.”
“Yeah, because she just rolled over and took your shit for the most part. You don’t know Saskia. Girl is fucking wild.”
“Do you?” King asks, watching me carefully.
“Do I what? Know her?” I lean my elbows on my knees. “I know her enough.”
“Oh good, you’re all here.” Delila takes a seat opposite me, pulling her packet of smokes out and tossing them onto the table. She’s getting worse and worse as each day passes. As if something is eating her from the inside out.
“What’s up?”
Delila places a smoke between her lips and lights the end. “Where’s your father’s whiskey?”
I look around aimlessly before coming back to her. “Am I going to need it?”
Delila runs her finger over her nose, her eyes squeezing shut briefly as if she’s in pain. “You will. Unfortunately, more than you did last time.”
“Spit it out.” I lean back in my chair, annoyed already.
“It’s Saskia.”
“What about her?” I ask, eyebrows raised. “Come on, you gotta tell me something, because right now the girl is walking around like a fucking ghost, haunting me with her presence. Can’t keep my fucking dick off her.”
Keaton snickers.
Delila flicks the ash off her smoke. “If I tell you this, Killian, you must contain your wrath. You must promise me that you will also stay away from her, but tread carefully.”
Sometimes the most vicious ghosts that haunt you are those in your memories.
Twenty hours. That’s how long Val has been hanging around me since Killian left cold turkey this morning. She has not let go. I think of Val as a Great White Shark. Once she has a taste of your blood, she doesn’t let go.
“So, I think you should wear this.” Val holds up a lacy red bra. “Underneath your robe.”
The robe steals my focus again. The Cornelii robe. Something deep inside of me twists and turns. It doesn’t feel right wearing it, and I can’t pinpoint why I feel that way.
“Just the bra?” I ask, my eyebrows turning in. “That’s—”
“—Kiznitch,” Val chuckles just as there’s a knock on the door.
Delila opens it up, a distant look on her face. She hands me a robe. “You will be wearing this one tonight, Saskia. I’m sorry for the confusion.” I take it from her, eyeing it skeptically.
Delila clears her throat as I open it up wide.
I pause.
The back has the words Dragavei with a large angry dragon wrapped around a red gemstone. I recognize the emblem instantly as the very same necklace that Hope had me swear to protect.
“Wow,” I breathe out. “That’s intense.” I don’t want to show my cards by letting them know that I have the necklace, but there’s a reason as to why she wants me to wear this. “What does it mean?”
Delila’s eyes come to mine as she searches her pockets. Finally, she pulls out her pack of smokes and bangs it onto the palm of her hand. “Really hoped I wouldn’t be the one to have to tell you this, but here we go.” She sucks in smoke and then turns to Val. “Leave.”
Val shifts from one foot to the other before she darts out the door. As soon as it’s closed, Delila tosses the pack of smokes at me.
I take one out, bringing it to my lips. Grabbing my Zippo that’s in the bedside drawer, I flick it open and blaze the tip. Inhaling, I sigh when I exhale the nicotine.
“First thing I’m going to tell you is that I can only tell you what I know, do you understand that?”
I lean over and flick my ash into an empty wine glass. “Yes.”
Delila paces back and forth in front of me. “Your last name isn’t Royal.”
I open my mouth to talk.
She cuts me a glare.
I snap my mouth closed.
She continues. “It is Dragavei. Saskia Dragavei. That is your family robe.”
When I know that she’s finished talking, I stand from the bed and make my way to the doors, pulling them open to allow some fresh air in. “Why do I not know this? My memories haven’t been touched. I remember everything there is to know about my childhood, so why have I never heard that name before?”
