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I think over my options.
I can’t do this alone. I know that. I know I need help, but I can’t have too many cooks in the kitchen, and I trust no one but my brothers. Clenching my jaw, I pick up my phone and start a group chat with Kyrin and Lilith.
Eli: My room. Now.
Speech bubbles light up before Lilith’s name flashes over my screen.
Lilith: No.
Kyrin: Is it important?
I squeeze my phone, frustrated at both of them. Lilith, I get her anger at Kyrin. But I get why Kyrin did what he did, too. There’s a reason why Kings are feared, and they’re both starting to piss me off.
Eli: I’m not fucking playing with either of you. You have thirty minutes.
I toss my phone back onto my bed and spread all of the folders and papers out so they can see everything easier. I stare at the one paper that is to the side, running my fingers through my hair. My heart thunders in my chest, a glorious panic button triggered deep inside me. Before I can change my mind, I quickly sweep back up those four pieces of paper and shove them back into the box, pushing it under my bed. Not yet. I pull my drawer open and take out my pack of smokes, putting one in my mouth and blazing the end. I hate this room. Not a fan of this city either. Need to be back on US soil so I know I’m within my jurisdiction. Right now, I’m fucking Switzerland in this war, and trying to juggle both of them is going to fucking kill me faster than this cigarette.
I turn on the sound dock, needing a distraction from my erratic thoughts just as there’s a knock on my door.
“It’s open.”
Kyrin closes the door behind himself. I instantly sweep him up and down—out of habit—and stop a fucking groan from leaving my lips. Because even among all of this, I still want to fucking eat him. Or let him eat me. Whatever works. Though I’m pretty sure we’ll kill each other figuring it out.
His eyes fall to my bed and his footsteps halt. “What’s that?” He doesn’t look back up to me as he continues to move closer.
I blow out a cloud of smoke, flicking the ash into the tray on the bedside table. “That is a whole lot of fuckery that I can’t work out.”
“Isn’t that your thing, though?” Kyrin asks, one eyebrow quirked. It’s weirdly animated on his face since he never so much as smiles or laughs. Well, much, anyway. Except when he’s coming, then his face is—
“What?” I ask, forgetting what he had said, too lost in my train of thought. Fuck, Eli. Pull your goddamn shit together.
“The riddles and tricks. That’s a King thing. It’s how you guys torment the girls you like, isn’t it?”
“Pshhh.” I put out my smoke. “Yeah, but this is different.”
He picks up the piece of paper with a child on it. Blonde hair, skin as smooth as porcelain, and eyes as lilac as they are gray looking up at the lens. “She had to be what? Seven?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Some of the shit she has been through, people even with the wildest imaginations couldn’t make up.”
He places the photo back down. “And I sent her back to the very people who did all that fucked shit to her because I thought she saw the world in ‘black and white’.” He shakes his head. I can see the battle he’s fighting from here. Regret, shame. Anger. Only this time, and for once, not at Lilith. As hard as Kyrin is to crack, you know that beneath all the layers it takes to get there, there’s something that he hasn’t offered anyone. You see it every now and then when it comes to Cartier; and whether he wants to admit it or not, even with Lilith.
“What are you thinking?” Kyrin asks, his tone low. He lowers himself onto my bed, moving the papers away.
“You don’t want to know,” I answer honestly, picking up a piece of paper that reads The Night and the Light. Hands are behind my thighs, pulling me closer to him until I’m directly in front, between his outstretched legs.
“Tell me.”
I place the paper back on the bed. “I’m thinking she’s fucked up and we need to help her.”
“I mean, tell me something I don’t know.”
“Fine,” I murmur, but my lips curve slightly on the edges of my face because I know what I’m about to say he’s not going to swallow easy. “I was thinking how much you keep hidden. How the hardest people I know have the biggest fucking hearts. My brother Brantley, for one. You should meet him. I get the feeling you’ll get along.” I pause, searching his eyes for any warnings that I should stop—you know, just so I can keep going… “I’m thinking that you care about Lilith a lot more than what you let on, and you hate that because of your parents’ history with Patience.” He stands, and I know I’ve got him. I can’t tell if he’s angry or if he’s in denial, because he’s so damn unreadable.
