Fierce King by Ivy Mason

Sixteen

In the past week,I learned two things.

First. Both Coulter and Bourbon lied to me. On a regular basis.

A ‘weekend vacation’ my ass. Coulter showing up on my doorstep, barely alive, wasn’t some fucking vacation. Whatever it was that he’d done, was for work. And the fact that Bourbon had told me that particular lie was very telling.

The lie had slipped off his tongue too easily, as if he did it every day, spoken without any sense of hesitation.

They didn’t lie to deceive me, no, they did it to deceive themselves.

These men, they pretended their lives were glamorous, and in many ways it was. Their house was beautiful. Their genes were the top of their field, the one percent of the sex pool, because my gawd, they were sex on a popsicle stick and I wanted to lick every inch.

And yet, Bourbon had to sneak me in to his own house?

And Coulter came to me when he was hurt? Why didn’t he have anyone else he trusted more to turn to?

They were kings of this city and yet, they hated their own lives.

I didn’t know all the truth but I did know that they were pretending. Each day, a deceit of the truth.

And honestly, I could understand that.

Because the second thing I learned about myself was that I was Just. Like. Them.

As much as I bitched and moaned about getting out, when it came down to it, when the door was open and Coulter was so out of it he could barely talk… when a fucking knife was on my bed and I could’ve stabbed him with it after he’d fallen in the shower…

I did nothing.

Wrapped the motherfucker up in my bed and comforted him like he was a little kid who’d just had a nightmare.

Yeah.

I was one big fat, fattie liar.

LIAR.

Yeah, I wanted out of here but I knew that they were protecting me.

I was decently safe here and the truth, deep inside me, was that I didn’t want to go.

I’d finished cleaning Coulter's wounds and dried him off. Then I taped gauze over his bullet wound, making sure it wasn’t still bleeding, then spread Neosporin on it before I bandaged the rest of them. I somehow managed to drag him out of the shower and into my bed.

I didn’t know how heavy a tall, muscular man was when unconscious but I found out.

Very.

And I was damn proud of myself for doing it.

In that moment, I hadn’t even considered escaping. When he began to shake, a fever kicking in, I put the knife on the desk, then threw off my shirt and pants, and climbed under the covers with him.

Yes, I held him.

Wrapped my body around his to warm him. Held him for hours while he slept for two full days straight. Studied his perfect body, touched the scratches that marred an otherwise flawless face. I didn’t eat, and only got up to drink and make sure he had some fluids in him too.

And then, after his fever broke and I finally fell asleep, when I awoke, he was gone. He’d left one thing on the pillow next to me: a pink desert rose.

The next night he appeared, looking much better, his bullet wound sewed up. He’d also brought me some books and some art supplies.

He didn’t try to make me come, or even bring up that stupid deal between us. Instead, he sat next to me on the bed and watched me draw.

Leaned his head on my shoulder, his fingers tracing over the lines I eagerly put to paper.

He talked to me, asking me what I wanted to do with my life. Wanted to know the places I’d been, and more about my life growing up. He didn’t seem to be probing like Bourbon had, but rather, sincerely interested.

And then Bourbon showed up an hour later.

He didn’t seem surprised to see Coulter and I talking, or to see the stuff Coulter had brought me.

And fuck of all fucks, Bourbon sat on the other side of me, listening to us talk and watching me draw. He even laughed when I painted a mustache on Coulter's face. God, it was a beautiful sound.

For once, it was easy going, relaxed, and casual between us.

But the next night, Coulter had burst through my door, his eyes heated and his chest heaving. He made it to where I was sitting in three long strides, yanked me up in his arms and kissed me.

I’d kissed him back, wrapping my legs around his waist as he pushed me against the wall. We’d kissed like that forever, his hands roaming, tongue swirling all over my body. My whole body was on fire, consumed with my thoughts of him. Of them.

Things were different now. More intense.

They didn’t bring up Lily, or even seem to think about her anymore.

Their eyes told me everything that their mouth didn’t. That they wanted me, for me.

That night, Bourbon didn’t stop by, but the next night, they both showed up together.

Bourbon just watching, his deep penetrating gaze telling me that he wanted to participate, but something held him back.

But Coulter didn’t hold back and neither did I.

I was slowly becoming addicted to Coulter's touch, to the way he made my body come alive, to feel things I’d never felt before. Addicted to the way his dark, golden gaze burned into me, to his lips and his fingers, so skilled in the art of making me come.

And yet, it was Bourbon, always Bourbon, who made me burn hot like wildfire. I would latch onto his gaze that dug deep into my soul every time, as if he was seeing something Coulter wasn't, even though Coulter was touching every inch of my naked body.

They would both hold me afterwards, wrapping me close to their firm bodies as I fell back asleep.

God. I was so fucked up.

I didn't know what mind games they were playing, but they were winning, and it was pissing me off.

Today, by mere coincidence, I'd been bored, flinging the rubber band I'd found across the room. It hit the wall and fell back behind the desk.

I'd managed to move the desk just enough to shove my arm behind it, silently thanking the pushups that had made me stronger, and found something else instead.

A photo. Of Lily. One I could hold in my hand, instead of the brief flash Bourbon had showed me.

And now, I was curled up on my bed, my blanket covering my face, slow tears dripping down my face as I stared at the picture.

She was squashed in between both men, except they were in their early teens, and God, they looked so young.

The guys both looked as cocky as ever, and yet Lily's confident smile stood out, radiating from the picture.

It was the smile I remembered, the one she would bestow on me the rare and precious times she was able to visit me back then.

Back when she was alive and sparkling with life.

Back before they'd killed her.

As soon as I'd seen it, guilt ripped through me, and shame marked my face.

Here I was, falling for these men with their sexy custom designed suits, their perfectly sculpted bodies, with sensuality and wealth oozing from their pores. I felt that they were showing me a side of them that they never showed anyone else: a softer, sweeter side.

I dreamed of Bourbon's piercing gaze. I occasionally caught phantom smells of Coulter, a musky, rich, and sensual scent that drove me wild.

I was falling for these damn sexy men, all while living, trapped, in my sister's own room.

I realized it now. She never told me much about her life, but now that I had the picture, I felt the ghost of her everywhere.

I could imagine her posters up on the wall, could practically see her doing homework at this desk.

Did she sleep with them in this bed, holding them close on this very mattress?

Did they have sex on the bed, too?

The thought disturbed me but another emotion was taking its place.

Raw anger.

She'd trusted them. I could see it in the picture, her arms wrapped around both of them, fingers clinging to their sides.

And they'd killed her.

I wanted to slap the arrogant smiles off their faces.

Seeing this, I became determined to hold back.

To win the game I didn’t even know the rules to, to control myself so that I could withhold from them the one thing they wanted.

Me.

I heard the creak of the footsteps on the doorway and quickly slid the picture between the mattress and the wall, then wiped the tears from my face. At the sound of the door opening, I pulled down the blanket and steeled myself.

I was going to win tonight. I wasn’t going to come, and then I was going to demand my freedom. They were going to tell me the truth about my sister, and then let me go.

A gasp escaped my lips at the sight of Bourbon in the doorway, his dark gaze on me.

I jerked upright in surprise, pulling my feet to my chest and scooting backwards until my back hit the headboard. Once again, I was afraid. Lily had trusted them when she shouldn’t have. I needed to remember that.

Bourbon gave me a confused look as he slowly made his way in the room. He stared at me, his eyes seeming to see everything.

My knees pulled up tight, my hands clutching the comforter close to my chest. The way my breaths heaved at his presence. How my head was now tilted upwards because he was hovering over me.

He held an air of authority about him, as if the very air and wind would obey his command.

“What happened?” His voice was a low growl, the old Bourbon returning in an instant.

“Nothing.” I shook my head, trying to smile but he saw right through it. His hand snapped out, grabbing my wrist, tugging me towards the edge of the bed and closer to him.

“Don’t lie to me, Rose.”

“You lie to me all the time, Bourbon.”

His eyes grew cold and unfeeling and a tense silence filled the room.

"Well," I said, annoyed that he was just staring at me without saying anything. He was toying with me, I knew it. "Coulter too busy tonight?"

The sides of his lips lifted upwards in a half smile. "Disappointed?"

“Maybe." I made a mocking noise. “Are you?” I gave him a dismissive smile, but it only seemed to make his confidence grow.

"If you're not certain whether you prefer the man giving you orgasms, or the man who likes to watch, then my answer is no, I’m not disappointed. I don’t even have to do anything to make you want me."

A low growl escaped my throat and indignation built inside me. And yet, his voice was raspy and smoldering at the same time, and I was wet just by the sound of it. He didn’t speak often but, by God, I was in love with the sound of it. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to contain my conflicting lust.

"Why do you watch anyways? Isn't it kind of creepy?”

“There’s nothing sinister about watching you come undone, Rose.”

I saw a spark of heat in his eyes, and that made the heat in-between my thighs increase.

What was wrong with me?

My anger sparked. “What is your and Coulter's obsession with me anyways? It's not like you couldn't have any woman you wanted."

An eyebrow ticked upwards. "Are you giving me a compliment?"

I grit my teeth. "No, I'm saying that you're pretty weird for locking up a simple girl like me when you could be entertaining yourself with sexy models with daddy issues.”

"And?"

I folded my arms across my chest, growing angry. "And, what I want to know, is why? Why me? Why take me from Dimitri. You know he's going to kill you if he finds out where I am."

“Oh, I'm very aware of what Dimitri will do if he finds out." The heat in his eyes instantly disappeared and I saw a flash of guilt in them for a brief second before they hardened like steel.

I sat up, staring him down now, annoyed that he wasn't answering any of my questions. "Why then? Why risk it? I thought it was good for your bank account to be in business with him."

"It's also good for my head to still be attached to my neck, if you care about that."

“Well, you'd be wrong about that." I lied, then sighed loudly. "What do you want, anyway? If you're just here to watch, even though Coulter apparently is busy tonight, feel free to take up a spot in the corner for your creeping." I slid back down under the covers and turned my back to him, pretending to go to sleep. "I'm tired."

I closed my eyes, hoping he would take the hint and go away. If Coulter wasn’t here, then I couldn’t play the game. I had zero chances of Bourbon telling me anything or giving me my freedom. I wasn’t in the mood for his games tonight.

It was silent for a long while and I wondered if he'd slipped out as quietly as he usually slipped in.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when a finger brushed over my cheek, wiping a lock of hair behind my ear. "I think you know why we took you, Rose. And you also know why we won't let you go." His voice was a dark rumble against my ear, making me shiver, and my eyes bolted open.

I turned towards him, staring with wide eyes as he stayed leaning over me, his face so close I could smell his spicy, earthy scent.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.

He straightened, and the look on his face changed, the edges of his lips turning downward as if he was disappointed with my response.

He was disappointed in me? Seriously?!

I sighed, yanking down my blanket and turned, sitting up and sliding my feet to the floor. If he wasn't going to sleep, then at least he could talk to me. Keep me entertained. His eyes immediately lowered, moving upwards from my bare legs to my tits. I was only wearing the white, lace underwear and a t-shirt Coulter had gotten me.

I glanced down, realizing with embarrassment that the tips of my nipples were pebbled, showing through my shirt. I crossed my arms over them, growling out. "It's cold in here."

His eyes met mine, and he gave me a lazy smirk. "Sure."

He didn't believe me. And I didn't blame him, I didn't even believe my own words.

I stood up and went to the bathroom, feeling his gaze burn into me as I walked. I suddenly wished I'd worn some pants to bed but I didn't really have a choice, unless I wanted to wear my jeans.

Staring at my face in the mirror, I had no doubt in my mind that as I grew older, I looked exactly like her.

I hadn't realized it until now, when I could compare it to the picture of her.

I bent over the sink, splashing cold water over my face while trying to gather my thoughts.

After Lily died, I stopped going on my yearly trip to see Aster, afraid that whoever killed her would come for me too. I didn't want to lead them to my younger sister, the most vulnerable one of us three.

Tonight, Bourbon was so confident, his words so sure that I'd known why I was here. That I knew about them.

Did that mean he knew about Aster too?

Fear made my stomach churn with the thought.

I had to protect her, do whatever it took to keep her safe.

When I turned off the water, I jumped at the feel of something touching my back. I froze, my heart in my throat as Bourbon turned my insides into jelly as he touched me, softly, gently, caressing my skin. Fingers slid up my back, underneath my shirt. They skirted up the line of my spine and goosebumps broke out over my flesh. Then his hands spread out, gripping my back.

I grabbed the towel by the sink, patting my face dry. As soon as I straightened, his hands went to my hips, holding them there, and he nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck. I peeked through the towel, and my heart squeezed at the look on his face.

His eyes were closed, a soft look of vulnerability on his face.

I didn’t know how to react. He seemed to just want to stand next to me, with his chest pressing into my back, his hands holding my hips possessively. He was breathing deeply, as if taking in my scent.

It was so unexpected from a man like him, a man who revealed nothing. A man who had the world laid at his feet but was tortured inside.

And yet, I needed to know if the Kings knew about Aster.

I swiveled in his arms to stare at him, my hands clenching the towel tight, needing to know the truth. I would fight to keep her safe.

"What, Bourbon? What do you want?” His face snapped up, his tortured gaze disappearing in a flash. His eyes turned darker, growing cold like steel. I grabbed hold of his shirt, clenching it tight, not caring that I was pulling at the buttons of his expensive shirt as I stared him down. “What do you want?”

His voice was frigid, all warmth gone. “Get dressed."

My mouth slacked. That wasn't the answer I was expecting.

"What?” I squeaked. I hated the excitement in my voice. If I was getting dressed then… then maybe he was taking me somewhere. I tried to tamp down on the hope filling my chest, even though it was quickly building inside me.

His fingers came up to thread through mine, gripping it almost… protectively. His gaze softened, just slightly.

“I have a surprise for you, but you need to get dressed first."

"You're taking me somewhere?" I didn't bother to hide the incredulity in my voice. At his nod, excitement shot through me. "Does Coult--"

I bit down on my tongue, angry with myself. I was just about to ask him if Coulter knew he was taking me out.

Like Bourbon needed to ask for permission to take me somewhere. As if Coulter was in charge of me.

What the hell was wrong with me?

He tilted his head to the side, studying me. “Do you want Coulter to join us?"

I frowned, hissing. “Of course not.”

“Fine.” He smirked. “Then get ready.”

I folded my arms across my chest. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me where we’re going."

“No.” He shook his head. “Trust me and get dressed, or stay here.” He turned away from me, walking towards the door that led to my room. "I'll give you ten minutes. If you want to leave with me, knock on your bedroom door. Otherwise, I'll know you're not interested."

Then he walked out, and I watched him go, the anger inside me billowing. How dare he order me around like that. How does he expect me to trust him when he’d done practically nothing to deserve it. I slammed my fist on the wall, frustration boiling from within.

I was dying to get out and he knew it!

"Ugh!" I screamed, stomping from the bathroom. He'd already left, leaving a garment bag lying across the bed. I ran to the door, trying the knob, disappointed when I discovered that he'd locked it after he left.

I faced the door, trying to decide what to do.

I could refuse, just to defy him, but something told me he would just leave without a word and then where would I be?

If I left with him, at least I could look for a chance to escape.

Groaning in frustration that I was giving him what he wanted, I stomped over to the bed and yanked the zipper to the garment bag. Then I sucked in a breath at the sight of the most beautiful dress I'd ever seen in my life.