Shiloh wasn’t above taking advantage of that. Had, in fact, “rescued” him from the streets for that very purpose. Money could buy many things, but true loyalty? That had to be earned, either through manipulation or other means. Since he wasn’t capable of taking the more honorable route and forming that type of bond organically, Shiloh had to settle for option number one.
It worked well for him.
“Relax. My brother doesn’t actually care so long as he’s gotten confirmation I’m safe, and Sloane knows me well enough to know if there was a problem either you or Sarang would have informed them.” Shiloh lounged in the hot tub, his head resting against the edge of stone. They’d returned to Glyph late yesterday evening, but he’d avoided his brother.
Kian had been given the same story as Sarang, but only one of them believed it.
Sarang and Shiloh had spent three whole days locked in that dark room at the Wardrobe, completely gone to their mating periods. He couldn’t recall how many times his body had been forced to take the alpha’s monster sized knot, but he was paying for it now, that was certain.
The flight over from Synastry had been pure torture, the only saving grace the fact Bishop had thought on his feet and explained Shiloh’s state of being on poor health. His lefthand had spun a story about him spending the weekend with a stomach bug, a tale Sarang had bought because he’d witnessed Shiloh clutching his middle, curled up on the seat on the spaceship.
Kian had figured out something else had happened, but Shiloh wasn’t in the mood to explain.
And he never would be, because it was none of his brother’s damn business.
That was part of their agreement. Shiloh had stepped aside and ensured Sloane did as well, and Kian had promised not to interfere when it came to Sarang.
“It’s not just them,” Bishop said. “Diogenes came to the compound several times. He was upset he wasn’t permitted an audience.”
Shiloh scowled. Dio was seriously starting to get on his last nerve.
The Hierarchy was what they referred to the high standing members of the Eumia. A group mostly made up of Kian’s people now that he’d taken over the mafia, but one that included Diogenes.
Meaning Shiloh couldn’t kill him even if he wanted to, and he didn’t.
Not really.
Notyet. They had too much history for him to throw it all away over something as petty as irritation. Unless Dio crossed a serious line, he was safe from Shiloh’s bloody nature.
But that didn’t mean he’d entertain the alpha’s one-sided crush any longer.
It was time to speed things up with Sarang.
“Forget about them.” He waved the topic off. “Did you do what I asked this morning?”
“Yes, everything has been arranged per your instructions.”
“And those you hired? They’re trustworthy?”
“The underboss will definitely like it,” Bishop confirmed. “And if he doesn’t, or something goes wrong, you can always kill the party planner.”
The corner of his mouth twisted up, and his eyes slowly opened, landing on the beta. “I think, in another life, we may have been best friends, Bishop.”
He dipped his head lower, practically tucking his chin against his chest. “I am unworthy, Prince.”
Shiloh rolled his eyes and cut a hand through the surface of the water, splashing toward where the other man stood. Only a few droplets actually got on him, splattering across the shiny surface of his leather shoes. “You’re as cold as I am.”
“I—”
“Used to be all warm and gooey?” Shiloh grunted. “I know. But isn’t that what they’d say about me if I died tomorrow? Does that make it true? Which version is the real me, do you think?”
“Prince?”
He waved him off. “It’s nothing. I’ve just been in a mood lately, that’s all.”
It’d been less than forty-eight hours since he’d been underneath the alpha, trapped on his cock.
Since he’d learned that Sarang was keeping a secret, same as him.
