“They won’t hurt you! You won't even see them. I just didn’t want you to freak out,” Riley reassures, as if he can hear my inner battle. He could have started with that.
I smile weakly. “Thank you!”
The biggest one scowls, his chocolate eyes staring into me before he leads the pack into the shadows.
Riley watches them leave before he lifts his chin and slinks into the shadows. I continue across the estate, aware I have four sets of eyes on me. People stay at a distance, like they know I am being protected. When something racing toward me catches my eye, a sob gets caught in my chest.
Two big arms come around me. “Beauty?”
I don’t let go, feeling safe in his arms as they cocoon me. Nothing can touch me here, and all the ugly bleeds away like dirty water draining down a plug hole.
Then I remember why I’m here. “Jack. We’ve got to find Jack.”
His dark eyes frown down at me, racing across each of my features. When something cold crosses his face, his already black eyes turning lethal, like a shark’s, each of his muscles bunching, I swear he grows an inch. “Who touched you?”
I look down to the ground. How do I say it? How do I tell him it was one of his father's men? He isn’t stupid or naïve. He knows who his family is. But this is like slapping it in his face. I play with a stone with the tip of my trainers, and then fingers whisper across my cheekbone, over the mark no doubt left, before sliding under my chin, bringing my eyes to meet his.
Unable to deny him anything, I whisper, “Angels.”
As soon as it leaves my lips, he drops his hand away from me. I want to take it back as an array of emotions pass across his features; confusion, guilt, and pure anger. He doesn’t say anything, just nods, pulling out his phone and sending a quick message.
“Come on, little Lilliana.” I follow beside him, pain radiating up my side as I try to keep up with his large strides.
The compound comes into view, its grandeur standing out against London's skyline. It’s a hotel, old and regal. It used to be full of life and happy memories, but now it's where Gage Kingston runs his empire. Malachi frowns up at the building, and his eyes flick back to me, as if he doesn't want to take me inside. But I know Jack might be in there.
I pull open the heavy door, hissing a little from the pain in my ribs, and then I'm turned, fast, his dark eyes slicing through me like black diamonds and glass. He yanks up my top, growling as he sees my pale skin turning different shades of purple. Instead of walking into the belly of the compound, he leads me to a lift. He pulls out a key before putting it into the keypad, and within seconds the lift jerks. We travel for a few seconds before the doors open, revealing a hallway with bare white walls and a chequered floor.
I follow Malachi into a room, taking all its contents in. It looks like it was originally a suite. A large bed sits against one wall, covered in black silk, and two high-gloss, dark bedside cabinets sit either side with matching lamps. A rug takes up most of the bedroom floor. In the living room space, a large white corner sofa sits in the middle of the room, a TV unit taking up an entire wall. But it’s the full wall of glass that takes my breath away. The whole skyline of London sits below us, like he’s the ruler of this kingdom. The thought makes me frown.
“I’m not like them,” he murmurs, answering my secret thoughts.
I smile reassuringly. “I know.”
He walks over to the kitchen, grabbing something and hiding it behind his back. A smile appears that makes my stomach fill with butterflies and a small giggle sound. I know I’m wearing a stupid grin. He pulls a single red rose from behind his back. “I forgot to bring this yesterday.”
It’s beautiful, the most beautiful rose I have ever seen, bright red in colour, bleeding into a darker red near its centre. I look up at him in confusion as a burn takes up in my stomach, as if he holds the match that ignited it and now the flame burns for him, alighting a flicker of hope. Hope that he feels the same way.
“Doesn’t the prince give his beauty a rose? You never used to stop talking about that book.”
I nod, eyes still on the petals, totally breathless. “Yes, he has to make her fall in love before the last petal falls,” I say, dragging my fingers over the delicate petals.
“He’d better get here soon then.” He laughs, making my eyes flick to his, to see them full of humour. Is he mocking me?
“You’re making fun of me?” I squeeze the stem, hissing as I drop the rose. A spot of blood appears at my fingertip, from the thorns. He grabs my finger in his hands, frowning down at the blood, before his tongue swipes out, licking the droplet away. My breath catches when he repeats the motion. Our eyes connect.
“I’m not your prince,” he whispers.
I take a step closer. “What if I want you to be?”
He pulls in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “You’re sixteen. Fuck! I’m twenty-six. Hayden is my best friend.”
I take another step, our lips a whisper apart, eyes fixed on each other. “I’m nearly seventeen. It’s my birthday next month. And what's age anyway? I love you. I've loved you since I was eight years old.”
The banging of the door makes us both jump, before Hayden comes in with hell in his eyes.
11
Lilliana
I grab the vase of roses before chucking them against the wall, watching as they land in a heap on the floor, water sliding down the walls as if they are the tears I can’t cry. He is still mocking me, putting them here as a memory, to taunt me.
The door opens, and the man himself is standing there, the poison in my veins. Malachi Kingston himself.
“I hate you!” I scream until my throat is raw. Grabbing the books on the side, I chuck each one of them at him. “I hate you! I really fucking hate you!”
I grab the bedding, tearing it off the bed. The pillows go across the room. I turn the bedside cabinets over, loving how their contents spill. The framed pictures go crashing to the floor, glass shattering around us. I grab anything I can with a fury I’ve never known; it’s burning through me like wildfire, every molecule vibrating with it. It’s consuming every breath.
“I hate you!” I run at him and punch him, clawing at him, desperate and wild, my fist banging against his chest. “I hate you,” I whisper, my throat raw with anguish.
He grabs my wrists, twisting me so my back hits the wall with a thud, arms pinned above my head, his eyes as wild as my own. “Say it again.” There’s a dare in his voice, and his chest is heaving the same way mine is.
I narrow my eyes, gritting my teeth together, leaning forward until I see my reflection in those black eyes. “I hate you!”
Before a thought has time to process, his lips crash down on mine, wild, angry, untamed. Teeth and tongues clash together like a mighty tidal wave, our hands tearing at each other’s clothes. Teeth bite into each other’s skin, like we’re wild animals, marking, claiming, destroying, and kissing. All with the same hatred that burns inside of us. Something forms in my stomach; fear, excitement, desire. Maybe it’s all three.
He picks me up as if I weigh nothing, my legs going around his waist automatically. His fingers dig in, causing me to hiss.