Ruthless Noble by Alley Ciz

CHAPTER 38

Rain drums a steady beat,and wipers add a swoosh-swoosh-swoosh-swoosh to the cadence while I stare blindly out the windshield. The rain is heavy enough for the water to instantly distort the view in between each back and forth swish of the rubber blades, making the black building in front of me look like it’s almost swaying.

I wish I could say my hesitation is because I’m waiting for a lull in the storm, but that is, unfortunately, a lie. All it would take is one text, and the garage door would open and allow us to enter without having to brave the elements.

Nope. The real reason I’ve sat here watching, waiting, debating is that I can’t seem to find the nerve. It’s embarrassing.

“Princess.” Fingertips skim my cheek before tucking a piece of wayward hair behind my ear.

Sluggishly, I let the curve of my skull roll over the supple leather of the headrest and blink my frowning boyfriend into focus. A familiar wrinkle forms between his dark brows as he studies me, and like every time it’s made an appearance this past week, I reach up to smooth it away.

With a hand cupping my nape, Jasper pulls me forward and rests his forehead against mine. I mirror his hold, letting my thumb run along the short hairs at the base of his hairline, simply breathing him in.

“I’m scared,” I admit. The fear is irrational, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling it.

Jasper’s grip on me tightens before he slides his hand around until he’s grasping me by the throat. His eyes scan my face, pausing on my mouth with a curl of his own.

My body sways in his hold, my hands falling to his muscular thigh.

A whimper escapes me when he licks his lips, and then they’re brushing against mine when he leans in. “There’s nothing for you to be scared of inside that building.”

I try to turn to look out the window but am stopped with a gentle flexing of his fingers.

I want to believe him, so damn bad. Deep down, a part of me does, but it’s buried under layers of doubt and insecurity.

“It’s going to be fine.” He gives me the tiniest peck, and I release a needy noise. “And if the impossible occurs and I’m wrong—”

I snort, and he nips at my lower lip in warning.

“If I’m wrong,” he restarts, undeterred, “and this doesn’t go the way I expect…you only need to remember one thing.”

The smartass comment dies on my tongue at the pure certainty of his expression.

“If it’s you and me against the world”—forehead to mine, tips of our noses touching, eyes crossed to maintain eye contact—“so be it.” He punctuates the declaration by slamming his lips to mine.

By the time he breaks the kiss, I’m breathless, but the fear is…not gone, but it’s no longer my prominent emotion.

Before I can lose my nerve, I pull out my phone and text Wes to open the garage.

Less than a minute later, Jasper has his Ferrari parked next to Cisco’s Hellcat, and Wes is pulling me into a bone-breaking hug. My eyes fall closed as I settle into Wes’s embrace, but I catch the half glare, half thankful look he sends Jasper over my shoulder. He yelps when I pinch him with my own warning.

Outside of my brother, Wes is the Royal I’m closest with. The way he holds me just a bit tighter and just a bit longer soothes the worst of my nerves. This feels the same.

“You doing okay, ma reine?”

Aww! Look who found his own growl. My lips twitch when I glance over at Jasper, my smile growing when he narrows his eyes. “Princess,” he warns.

“You let him demote you?” Wes clucks his tongue. “I really should take his ass in the ring with me and teach him some respect.”

I roll my eyes and jab Wes with a quick elbow to the gut. “Play nice.” I step out of his hold, moving to Jasper and taking his outstretched hand.

“What?” Wes shrugs, turning to walk toward the door backward. “I’m just saying…all the Royals call you one variation of queen or another. Shouldn’t your boyfriend?”

“Ignore him,” I say to Jasper, coming to a halt when Wes beeps open the door to the residence.

Jasper pauses at the threshold, my arm outstretched between us, concern knitting his brow.

He doesn’t rush me. He just gives my hand a squeeze, reminding me he’s here should I need him.

“Bitchy, get your ass in here,” Tessa shouts from inside, far less patient than my boyfriend. I should be surprised she’s here, but then again, she’s Tessa, and she takes her role as my ride or die very seriously.

The almost imperceptible bounce to Jasper’s broad shoulders tells me he’s doing his damnedest to restrain a laugh at my bestie’s antics, but that slight glimpse into a human emotion is enough to get my feet moving.

My eyes find my brother the second I step inside. He’s a mess. His short hair is disheveled like he’s been constantly running his hands through it, and even from a distance, I can make out the dark circles under his eyes. I suspect he’s been sleeping as shitty as I have this past week.

I don’t know which one of us moves first, but I find my face smashed against his chest, the familiar scent of cinnamon and charcoal filling my lungs. Strong arms band around me, and as the weight of his chin falls to the crown of my head, I hear the relieved sigh he breathes against my hair.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Savs.” His arms squeeze me tighter, and I can’t help but find myself doing the same.

“I know,” I admit. The betrayal I felt was gone before Mitchell ever explained the how and why Carter knew about my paternity so much sooner than me. Holding a grudge was not the reason behind our continued distance this last week.

“It killed me not to tell you.”

“I know.” I’ve spent the last several days picking apart every one of our interactions for the past couple of months. All the signs were there. I suspected something was going on. He had been acting too cagey to not think as much, but I had mistakenly chalked it up to the same stuff that made him think it was best for me to go by Samantha St. James at BA.

Oh, how that name has a whole new meaning now.

“Yo-you don’t love me less now, do you?” My arms fall to my sides when Carter jerks back after I stutter out my biggest fear.

“The fuck, Savannah?”

A snicker comes from somewhere behind Carter, and I know without a doubt that it came from Tessa. She’s generally the only person to use my not-real-name’s full form with some sort of consistency. If Carter’s slipping into it, it’s a sure sign of how much we’ve caught him off guard.

I probably shouldn’t be, but I can’t help but be amused by it.

Besides Tessa, I spot each of the Royals spread out around the room, each silent, watching and waiting to see how this is going to play out. None of them move except Jasper, who takes one step closer before he stops at the end of the couch.

In front of me, Carter pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you explain to me what in the ever-loving hell would make you ask me such a goddamn asinine question like that?”

I cast my gaze around the room, noting more than one befuddled expression staring back at me.

“Biologically, you’re fifty percent less obligated to love me.” I shrug, the up and down motion of my shoulder lackluster at best.

“Obligated?” Carter steps forward, his hands curling over the curves of my shoulders. The tension radiating from his hold gives away how much restraint he’s using not to actually shake me. “You think I love you because I feel obligated?”

There’s a vein pulsing at his temple, and his left eye is twitching the tiniest bit. I bite down on my lip hard enough to draw blood, squeeze my eyes shut, and nod.

“Jesus Christ.”

Hands smack against denim as he releases his hold on me. When I peel one eyelid open, he has both of them folded on top of his head, elbows winged out to the side as he stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. To be fair, I feel like I might have.

“You listen to me right now, Savannah.” He pokes a finger at me. “Biology has nothing to do with why I”—he smacks a hand to his chest—“love you.” This time his finger actually pokes me. “Full siblings, half-siblings, fostered, adopted, born in a pod, or came from motherfucking outer space—I. Love. You.”

Tears burn the backs of my eyes again, and I sniffle away the tickle inside my nose.

“Not fifty percent,” Carter continues. “No half measures. You are one hundred percent my sister. My love for you is all in and never going to fucking change. You feel me?”

I nod, emotion choking me as the conviction and slight scold in his tone has it swelling inside me.

This time I’m the one throwing myself at him, wrapping my arms around him, and clinging to him like a lifeline.

A hand comes up to cradle the back of my head when I’m unable to swallow down my sob.

The shuffle of feet has me turning my head to the left, my wet cheek pillowing against the soft cotton of my brother’s shirt as I look toward my wide-eyed boyfriend.

A grin forms almost on its own at the disbelieving way he watches how we interact. I get it. To most people, my brother is an unfeeling robot. They’re wrong. He’s just better at hiding his emotions than most.

With one more crushing embrace, Carter releases me, the compassion wiped off his face as he stares Jasper down with a Hurt her and die glare.

Boys. *insert eye roll*

Reunion and making up over, both couches, both Barca loungers, and even the coffee table fill up as everyone finds a seat.

Tessa is all smiles and wagging eyebrows at the hand Jasper threads into the rips of my jeans. I roll my lips between my teeth to restrain my own smile. Nobody else needs to know I’ve made it a point to work all of my ripped jeans into my regular rotation of clothes. What can I say? It’s flipping hot how he latches onto any bare skin he can get his hands on.

“We missed you around here, Mini Royal,” Leo tells me, holding out the side of his fist for me to knock mine against.

I grimace. “You guys should probably think of a new nickname for me,” I say. Not because I hate it; I don’t. It just feels like I don’t have a right to it anymore.

“Why the hell would we do that?” comes from Cisco.

“It’s one of my faves.” Me too, I think, agreeing with Lance.

“Is that another one he’s”—Wes wiggles a finger at Jasper—“going to get all growly about?”

“You going all shifter on us like His Royal Highness, too?” Tessa can’t help but chime in too.

“Jesus,” Carter mutters, running a hand over his face.

I do my best to let the chaos infuse me with joy, but then I remember why I started this conversation. I drop my gaze, focusing on one of the frayed threads of my jeans instead of the faces of the crew I’ve been proud as hell to call myself a part of.

“I’m not actually a King.” I swallow. “So I’m really not a real Royal.”

“Savvy.” Carter puffs out a breath, but I keep my gaze trained on each individual string I’m adding into the rip closest to my knee.

It isn’t until he grabs my chin gently and physically turns my head toward him that I lift my eyes to his. They narrow, and his Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow. “How many more times are you going to force me to tell you to cut that shit out?” He arches a brow. “Being Jeremy King’s daughter didn’t make you a Royal.”

“But I’m not actually from a founding family.”

“And what about Cisco? Or Lance?” He waves a hand at where the two of them sit in the Barca loungers. “Are they not real Royals because they aren’t from founding families either?”

Dammit!He had to go and use logic on me, didn’t he? Every time my brain would remind me that, yes, there are Royals not from founding families, and in Lance’s case, not even from Blackwell, I’ve ignored it. I hate losing an argument. I hate it even more when I know I’m wrong, and that’s why I lost it. I shake my head.

“Name and blood relation don’t make a Royal.” Carter chucks my chin. “It’s what’s in here.” He taps a spot above my heart. “And what you have in here?” Another tap. “Is the definition of being a Royal.”

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

I blink and look toward the ceiling.

Shit!

I’m totally going to cry.

“I know I step in and get involved in things you’ve told me time and time again I don’t need to. I get it.” I run a finger beneath my lashes and meet my brother’s determined gaze. “I’m overprotective, and I won’t apologize for it.” His chest expands with a deep inhalation. “But who’s the one leading us into battle later?”

My voice is small, barely above a whisper. “Me.” I clear my throat and add a little force behind it when I repeat, “Me.”

“Damn fucking right.”

Jasper squeezes my thigh, Tessa cheers, and each of the Royals hits me with their own Damn fucking right nod. Each sign of encouragement reaches inside my chest and tugs until that insecurity is yanked from my subconscious.

A sense of rightness spreads through my veins, pulsing beneath my skin.

They’re right. With a nod of my own, I admit it.

No more.

Time to go put an end to the Momster’s evil reign.