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I took a moment to process his words, not exactly mad at what he was insinuating, but still concerned. I was fine with him thinking I was the one who killed Lord Geralt. In many ways, I wish I had. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to pay for what he did to Christine. And if Lord Nathan thought I was his brother’s killer, that took attention off Christine, and my purpose in life was taking as many burdens as I could off of her shoulders.
“You won’t ever have her,” I said, my voice deathly low. “I don’t care about your contracts or your theories. Christine Abernathy will never ever belong to your family. And you can fight this all you want, but you are nothing and I am a king. I suggest you bend the knee and learn your place.”
I expected my threat to affect him, but instead, he gave me a confident grin. “Change is on the horizon, Your Majesty.” The way he said Your Majesty made the title sound like a joke. “I have more allies than you think, and your people are losing confidence in you with every passing moment. I suggest you be very cautious from here on out.”
My mother stiffened, and I clenched my fist.
“Threatening the king?” a new voice said, and I turned my gaze to the door, where Atticus walked in. He appraised the situation with scrutiny, raking his gaze up and down Lord Nathan’s body as if his eyes were made of daggers and he wanted to slice his skin up. “Why, that’s treason. Greater men have died for lesser reasons,” he said before moving to stand beside me behind my desk. Atticus looked lethal, his arms crossed over his chest as he boasted an air of superiority. I couldn’t help but feel like he seemed more like a king in this office than I did. He had a threatening energy as he clenched his mouth tighter.
“I’m well aware what kills men in this castle,” Lord Nathan said while slicing his eyes to me. All the while, my mother remained dutifully silent, allowing us to engage in a pissing match that would likely end in bloodshed.
Atticus looked at me. “Is this the lord that thinks he has claim to Lady Abernathy?” he asked, though I knew damn well he already had the answer to that. Atticus was sickeningly effective at finding things out about people. He probably already had a spy implanted in his home.
“I am the lord that will claim the property my family is owed,” he sneered.
I was about to say something to dispute him, but Atticus reached across the desk and grabbed his collar. The criminal mastermind yanked Lord Nathan down and crushed his nose against the hardwood of my makeshift desk. Blood splattered on impact, gushing out of his nose as he groaned in pain. It was swift and effective.
Brutal.
I was thankful that Atticus had done that, but also jealous, too. I wished I had gotten to work out some of the frustrations coursing through me. I wanted to punish this man for referring to Christine as property.
Atticus gripped him by the hair and pulled him up, glaring at him. “You will stay away from Christine. You won’t look at her. You won’t think about her. You won’t even breathe in her direction, or I will end your life. August is king, his word is law, but I am not. I am not bound by ethics or morals. I will cut your body up into tiny little pieces and feed them to my dog if it so pleases me. We will destroy you. Ruin your reputation. Claim your family lands and ban you from court. Augustus will strip you of your title without hesitation. You. Overstep.”
Jealousy surged within me. I wish I had said all of that. I wish I would’ve threatened him or used the powers I had to nip this in the bud much sooner. But I was thankful for Atticus, all the same.
“Do you understand? We will ruin you,” I added, wanting to be a part of this. My gaze flickered over to my mother, but if she was bothered by the blood and aggression, she didn’t show it. Something told me she had seen much more over the course of her marriage to my father.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he gritted, though there was no respect in his tone. Lord Nathan was dripping with malice, and nearly all of it was aimed at Atticus. Even though my best friend annoyed me endlessly in his pursuit of Christine, there were benefits to having a crime lord at your side. I was bound by customs, rules, and etiquette. Where he reigned, brutality made the rules.
“Get out of here,” Atticus said. “And watch your back.”
Lord Nathan straightened and adjusted his bow tie for a brief moment before storming out of the office. My mother released the breath she was holding and stared at both of us. “I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get lost on his way out,” she said before bowing her head and leaving the room.
Once we were alone, I regarded Atticus. “I had it handled.” I sounded like a petulant child embarrassed to have his older brother fight for him.
“That man deserved it. I have half a mind to have someone follow him home and suffocate him in his sleep.”
I stroked my chin. “He hinted at a possible uprising,” I said, my voice distant.
“There’s always a potential uprising,” Atticus drawled.
“Still, I don’t like this. He’s up to something. He insinuated that I killed his brother,” I said.
“Good,” Atticus replied. “It’s better he thinks that you did it and not Christine.”
I stared at the puddle of blood on my desk and once again wished it was me who gave him that bloody nose. With any luck, his nose was broken.
“Why are you here?” I asked him.
A mischievous grin crossed his features, and he started digging in his pocket for something. “I wanted to show you something that might interest you,” he said before pulling out his cell phone and clicking on the screen.
“What?” I asked in annoyance. Based on his expression, I already knew that it would probably piss me off. Atticus thrived on pissing me off.
He handed me the phone, and the moment I saw what was on the screen, my breath stalled in my chest. It was Christine and Atticus wrapped up in a warm embrace. She was sucking on his lip, and her soft body was tangled with his. My initial reaction to seeing this was rage, but the sight of her flushed skin, silky pajamas, and hooded eyes made my cock harden. I didn’t like seeing her with anyone else, but there was something intoxicating about the way she looked so needy.
“Do you have a death wish?” I asked, every muscle in my body tense.
“It would be a beautiful way to die,” Atticus replied. “She tastes so lovely. She is so responsive. Her nipples are like hard little marbles I want to tug on with my teeth.”
