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“Basilius?” Brander’s tone was hauntingly soft, barely a whisper of breath to form his brother’s name on his lips. “Fucking hell!” Brander pulled Basilius, who stood frozen in place as he was jerked into his brother’s arms.
The warmth of watching their reunion flooded through me, even as I scoured the library for any sign of Knox. Someone pulled my arm, and then I smashed into the solid, yet surprisingly soft shirt covering Greer’s chest.
“I’m glad you’re home, Peasant.” His words forced heat to prick my eyes as tears threatened to fall.
“I missed you too, Meat Suit,” I admitted, pulling back to smile at him. Something in his eyes caused worry to flicker, then gradually blossom into something akin to panic. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s good that you’re here. You have impeccable timing.” His cryptic statement caused my forehead to wrinkle. I waited for him to elaborate, but he removed the arm he’d slung over my shoulders to welcome the others home.
Standing in place, my gaze darted between Killian, Brander, then to Lore, who’d remained seated. It seemed like he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of their return as he kept his back to us. He may have not known the others as well as the brothers who’d help raise him after Eira and Lennox Karnavious were killed.
Esme tugged on my gown, which forced me to turn toward her. Her huge, violet eyes pleaded. But for what, I wasn’t sure. I allowed her to drag me with her through the library, then farther into it until we rounded a set of ancient, white oak shelves.
“We have to murder him,” she hissed.
I blinked at her murderous statement. Confusion danced through me, then slid over my face. Then I remembered her reaction to Basilius, which now seemed like it had occurred days ago instead of less than an hour ago.
“Is he the one…?” My question wouldn’t come out. Instead, my stomach clenched as I pulled her in for a hug. “If he is the one who hurt you, Esme? I will personally bring you his severed cock.”
“What?” she sputtered, then pushed me away. “Wait, you’d do that for me?” Her violet hued stare narrowed before she exhaled. “Never mind that. No, he’s not the one who hurt me. He’s so much worse than that, Aria. He has to die. I need it done now, though. Before….” she paused when my nose crinkled as my face twisted with utter perplexity.
“I can’t just murder Knox’s long-dead brother because he gave you googly eyes, Esme. It’s murder without justification. He just came back from the dead. Don’t you think it would look a little strange if he returned to being dead so soon after his return?” I asked in a hushed whisper.
“You don’t understand!”
“Then make me understand why you wish to kill someone,” I returned while carefully dragging my regard over her panicked stricken face. When she began bouncing from one foot to the other, I noted the pallor of her coloring. Her face was damp in a fine sheen of moisture, as if she was sweating. “What is wrong, Esme?” The air leaving her lungs was quick, short pants.
“Basilius is my mate!” She shouted, then slapped her hands over her mouth. Wide, horrified eyes turned darker than glistening amethyst as fear, to shocked horror within them. “You have to help me kill him. We can finally bury a body as you’ve wanted to do. Please?” Her tone shook with emotion, which caused mine to quiver with mirth.
I should have been a better friend and felt sorry for Esmeralda. But that she’d ended up mated to an asshole, who was just as broody and brutish as Knox, was karma. Esme had given me so much shit about my mate that I was enjoying her horror at being mated to his brother. Did it make me an asshole for enjoying it? Nope. Not one bit, but that was because if the shoe had been on the other foot, she’d do the same.
“Aria, are you laughing?” When the clap of laughter I failed to conceal tore through the hallway, she huffed, then puffed as her hands squeezed into tight fists, then she began pacing in front of me. “That barbarian can’t be my mate,” she exclaimed. “Did you see him? He’s a Neanderthal! He could be Knox’s twin. For fuck’s sake, help me!” Her growing frustration only fueled my laughter, which, in return, made her even more so. “You are the worst best friend ever! All this time we’ve been together. You’ve wanted to bury a damn body. Here’s your chance, but are you taking it? No. Nope, not the newly crowned Queen of Ruins,” she scoffed, making air quotes around the ‘queen, then ruins’ with her fingers. Stopping her endless pacing, she put her back to the entrance we’d come through, planting her palms on her hips.
Basilius rounded the corner, catching my eyes as I fought against the laughter bubbling up from my chest. His gaze narrowed before gradually gliding down Esme’s animated frame.
“Which you are, by the way. Nothing but ruins await us there, Your Highness. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Again, no. If we have to hide a body, his is freaking amazingly powerful, and solid! Which is beside the point. It doesn’t matter if he’s got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever stared into, either. Nor should I care that he’d be able to bend a bitch over and fuck her so viciously she’d hurt deliciously in certain places, but I do!” A smirk at her mess up had her groaning, loudly in protest of my lack of support.
“You mean, you don’t care,” I corrected smoothly.
“I couldn’t care less about any of that. I mean, he also smelled fantastic, too. Dark masculinity with vetiver, a hint of sage, and bergamot? Definitely bergamot. Fucking hell. I can still smell him.” My eyes darted between them, trying to indicate he was directly behind her.
“We should get back,” I offered, seeking to prevent her embarrassment of him overhearing every tidbit she was word-vomiting in front of him.
“Did you not fucking hear me?” Her fingers pushed through her hair before she dropped her head back, groaning in frustration. “I bet the bastard is an utter beast in bed, too. And even worse? I was too occupied fucking my hand to relieve the damn ache between my thighs while you were getting fucked at the ball! That’s why my vagina is now drenched. Fucking hell. Can you please just help me murder him? I promise to help you dig whatever hole you ask me to if you’ll just help me this one time. Please?”
Clearing my throat, I locked eyes with Basilius. His had narrowed while listening to Esmeralda complaining about her current, pressing issue down below. He’d leaned against the edge of the entrance to the hallway where we were. The anger churning in his eyes caused my stomach to churn, as if he thought we were actually considering doing as Esme requested.
“It’s called venting, which doesn’t end in homicide,” I offered, which should’ve stopped Esme from continuing. Esme didn’t take hints, cues, or general directions well. Instead, she began anew. “Or murder, as you call it around here,” I corrected when a deep frown forced his eyebrows to push together.
“I’m allowed to vent. The man seriously was eye-fucking me so damn hard with those pretty eyes, that my vagina threatened to invite him inside! I’ve never found anyone who made my vagina all tingly without even touching it, yet.” Running her palms over her face, she made complaintive sounds. “Why is that the one time I ask you to hide a body, you won’t even consider it? Besides the fact of it being considered murder, which of course it would be. Obviously in order to hide one, we’d need to murder it first. That’s obvious. As I said before, the neanderthal would just climb out unless he wasn’t able to do so.”
“That, and he’s standing behind you,” I muttered, unnerved at the fury I was witnessing in his mind. “I honestly think he believes you mean to murder him, Esmeralda.” Stepping closer to her, I eyeballed him with a warning burning in my gaze. “Let’s go, Esme.” I refrained from asking, as the turmoil in Basilius’s mind appeared exceedingly unpleasant. I wasn’t leaving her standing in a scarcely lit hallway with him, alone.
“You couldn’t warn me?” she hissed, which, like mine, was more of a shout-whisper.
“When my eyeballs look like they’re a fuzzball, you should pay attention. I’m obviously not suffering from a stroke. Why did you think my eyes were moving to you, then over your damn shoulder?” I asked, which caused a crease in her forehead as her nose scrunched up.
“What the hell is a fuzzball?” That she’d only heard the one word she couldn’t discern was frustrating. “Is it something else you expect to know that is from your world, not ours?”
