But every second I’m around her, I’m losing control. It’s like the day I boxed Dean—each glance from her eyes, or bite of her lip is like another blow, knocking me senseless. Tearing off my veneer and taking me back to the man I used to be: prince of the West Coast. My father’s right-hand man, running his business, preparing to take over someday. Surrounded by women and friends, wealth pouring in . . .
That man had confidence. He didn’t have to hide. He never pretended to be weaker, shyer, lesser. He never compromised his integrity with lies.
I want to be myself with Nix, I don’t want to be Ares. I want her to know me, not him.
I want to fuck her as myself.
But then I walked into the woods with her, and all my resolve disappeared. Nature is Nix’s place. It belongs to her. When I’m in the forest with her, the rest of the world ceases to exist. Nothing outside of us matters, and I’m free to be who I want and do what I want.
I kissed her under that tree, and I had to fucking have her.
I threw her down, the leaves mixing with her hair, and I worshipped her like the goddess she is.
I got down between her legs and tasted her fully for the first time. I’ve never had so much pleasure just from the sensation of my tongue. All five senses were right there: her rich taste, the velvet texture of her skin, the sight of those creamy thighs wrapped around me, the sounds of her moans, and her sweet scent filling my lungs.
It was heaven. I felt her cumming against my mouth, and I truly experienced enlightenment.
She put my cock in her mouth, and the whole universe melted away. I was in her and she was in me, and everything was as it should be.
Then we walked back to the castle, reality crashing down on me with all the weight of its attendant guilt.
I want to tell Nix the truth. But I can’t.
She loves her father. If she knew what we intend to do to Marko Moroz . . . she’d fight us. She’d have to defend him. Just like I would do for my family.
I’ve already gotten too close to her, let her see too much.
I’m taking stupid risks, and it’s all going to blow up in my face.
I’d been down in the archives because my mother had a new idea.
The archives under Kingmakers are vast. Maps are of great use to thieves. Generations of mafia have hoarded every diagram, every blueprint they could get their hands on. Even the properties of other mafia families aren’t safe.
We have a remarkable amount of material to look through.
Unfortunately, almost no organization.
The last several Chancellors of Kingmakers weren’t academics. Little attention was given to the quality of the librarians.
My mother arrived to a maelstrom of decaying, disorganized mounds. The more she searched, the more daunting the task appeared.
She was trying to drink an Olympic-sized swimming pool one teaspoon at a time.
Still, she never hesitated. She never slowed. She never gave the slightest indication that we might not succeed.
Until last year. Then I finally saw the tiniest cracks start to form as she began to reach the end of the archives without finding what we needed.
We had so few clues. We searched castles, monasteries, fortresses, manor houses, and even old prisons. Nothing seemed to match.
Until my mother thought of mines.
We knew the place was old, and that it had a water source beneath—we had always assumed a moat or river.
She fixed upon the idea of an aqueduct to carry away waste, and she began to search again.
Six potential locations seemed to fit what we knew. She brought me down to the archives to see for myself.
I hardly dared to believe it, but we seemed so much closer than we’d ever been before.
I wanted it to be true . . . while dreading what that would mean.
We might finally be reaching the end.
I tell myself to pull back from Nix again, to step back from the line I crossed, but I can’t. We’re hurtling down this road together, whether she knows it or not.
The Christmas dance is only a few days away.
I ask Nix to go with me.
She says yes, because she was expecting it. We’re dating each other in every way but official.
I can’t stay away from her. The only time I feel peace is with her. That’s the only time the pressure releases. As soon as we’re apart, I’m crushed again under the weight of my own lies.
I haven’t been going to see my mother as much. If she sees my face, she’ll read me like a book.
I have to tell her about the dance, however. She’ll almost surely attend herself. Especially since by this point she knows all the staff and has no fear of running into someone who might recognize her like Sasha Drozdov did.
So I visit her the day before the dance, knowing she’s sure to give me shit for trying to avoid her.
“Who’s that?” she says, pretending to peer through her fake glasses. “I don’t recognize you—have we met before?”
“Ha, ha,” I say, and then quietly, because a library is one of the only places where you can whisper something without looking suspicious, “You told me not to visit too often, remember?”
“I think you’ve just been busy,” she murmurs, pretending to sort a pile of returned books “Doing such a careful job with your assignment.”
I sigh, wondering if there’s any point in denying it.
“Do you not want me to take her to the dance?”
“Oh, I absolutely think you should,” my mother replies. Her voice is at its lowest and most dangerous.
My heart squeezes in my chest.
I’m not saying I’m afraid of my mother, but I also wouldn’t fucking underestimate her.
Cautiously, I ask, “You’re not worried that I’m getting too close to her?”
“Oh, I know you are,” she says softly, setting down the last book and looking up at me at last. Her eyes are dark and gleaming, steady as they’ve ever been. “I know you’re getting too close to her, Ares. And I also want you to know that I don’t care. You can like this girl. You can even fall for her. It doesn’t matter.”
I lick my lips, my heart nearly rigid now. “Why doesn’t it matter?”
“Because in the end, you’ll choose your family,” she says. “You’re my son and I know who you are. You’re loyal.”
“Yes,” I murmur. “I am.”
“Loyalty in blood,” she says with a slight downward tilt of her chin.
“Loyalty in blood,” I agree.
22
Nix
I was hoping Ares would want to go to the dance together. It’s one thing to run around the woods just the two of us, and another to dance openly in each other’s arms.
I’m also, for my own amusement, hoping that the battle to take Sabrina Gallo to the dance ends in an actual massacre.
I can hardly walk down a hallway next to her without some hapless male making a hurried and desperate pitch.
Sabrina turns them all down.
“Don’t you want a date?” I ask her.
“Maybe.” She shrugs as if she doesn’t care.
I don’t believe her. Her irritable mood tells me that she’s set her sights on someone and won’t be satisfied with anybody else.