12. Rebel
Chapter 12
Rebel
“He did what ?”
“Don’t be so surprised,” Rage grumbles, sipping his disgusting black coffee. “He’s been watching how you interact with her. It was only a matter of time before he did something on his own.”
“I’m not surprised.” Grinning, I pop a strip of greasy bacon into my mouth and chew the salty goodness. “I knew he had it in him. I’m just— wow. I can’t believe I missed it!” A pang of regret almost takes my joy away— almost. But nothing will top my little brother damn near getting some! And in public , too!
“He’s earning his stripes.” I slam my hand down on the countertop, my body brimming with excitement. “Man, I can’t believe I missed it.” I was right next door in the other ballroom. Someone could have easily come to get me before the show was over. It’s not like losing one hand of poker would have decimated the whole night’s earnings.
“You were busy,” Thanatos says nonchalantly, like I don’t already know. “It was an important mission.”
“ Mission ,” I sneer, crinkling my nose. “Like babysitting a bunch of old fucks actually counts as a mission.”
“It does when it funds the next phase of the plan.” Snapping his newspaper shut, Than scowls over the kitchen island at me. “We can only pull so many funds from the bratva’s coffers before Mikhail closes the bank. We need your winnings for Celia’s dress. She has to be a showstopper next week.”
Rage spears a slice of banana with his fork. “She already is a showstopper.”
I nod in agreement. “If your head wasn’t so far up your ass, you’d know.”
Thanatos’s scowl deepens. “What I think about her doesn’t matter. It’s what he thinks.”
Rolling my eyes, I scoff. “Dad doesn’t need to think that she’s a smokeshow. He’s going to try to kill her regardless of what she’s wearing. The new dress was your idea. I still think she should wear one of her own designs.” Celia has been working herself stupid over these gowns she creates, wanting to make sure that all five or six of her clients look flawless at the upcoming charity gala. It’s ridiculous that her invitation was revoked first thing this morning.
I bet her monster of a mother has something to do with it.
Scowling at my full cup of coffee, I slam my mug down, sloshing some over the rim. I voted to kill the bitch on sight the next time we run across her—likely at the very same gala she shut her own daughter out of—but everyone else veto’d that idea.
Except for Ruin. He never voted.
Tilting my head back, I stare at the ceiling toward his bedroom. If I can get Ruin alone with me, the two of us might be able to sneak off and gut Adella fucking Monrovia for being such a cunt. Especially if she’s at the gala. Picture this: an old, crusty bitch is found stabbed to death and rolled up in one of those dusty velvet curtains, like in the movies. Or maybe we can find a trash chute and shove her bony ass down into the dumpster.
Celia would be none the wiser. It would be fine.
Snapping his fingers, Rage tries to catch my attention. “Hey. We are not killing anyone at the gala. Get that fucking look off your face.”
I cross my arms. “Since when is killing someone at the gala off the table? That was never a rule.”
“Since we became guests. I got all five of us tickets so that we can escort Celia without having to sneak in.”
Thanatos doesn’t seem pleased with the news. “Under what names?”
Rage stabs another piece of fruit, some kind of orange square, before setting his fork down. “I couldn’t exactly tell them to put Rage, Rebel, and Ruin on the guest list, could I?”
My annoyance ticks up five fucking notches. “Uh, yeah, you could have. With the amount of money I grabbed last night, you could have told them you were Queen fucking Latifah, and they still would have let you in. I am not going under another name.”
Rage grits his teeth. “Don’t be stupid. You know that bratva influence can only go so far. Showing up as Rebel won’t win you any favors with this crowd. It’ll make everything ten times more difficult. Remember when you stole that car from the police chief last year? That warrant is still out for your arrest, with your shit-eating grin all over the fucking pictures.”
Ah, my first time in a Lamborghini.
“He’s just mad that I fucked his wife better than him.”
Thanatos stares at me without blinking. “You slept with the police chief’s wife?”
“They were separated.”
“Twice,” Rage growls. “He slept with her twice. ”
“I got you the security code for his computer, didn’t I? What’s the big deal, all of a sudden?” I glare at Rage, not sure where this is coming from or what it has to do with the gala next week.
Than and I both wait for Rage’s reply. He chugs the rest of his coffee and pours a second cup. “We can’t fuck this up. All of us have to blend in, or shit could go sideways in a second. We can’t let Celia go in there alone. We can’t. Ruin will be allowed in with his ticket, but you know he won’t be comfortable in a crowd, especially if he can’t wear his mask.”
Clearing his throat, Than mutters under his breath. “He seemed pretty comfortable last night.”
Fuck , I’m going to have to check the cameras to see what I missed. “They had a crowd?”
“The entire room,” Than confirms, nodding. “Half of them couldn’t wait to tear their clothes off.” He scratches the side of his neck and quickly looks away, grabbing his coffee mug and filling it to the brim.
Yeah, half the room, right. Himself included.
Snickering, I let it go. Teasing him won’t get Rage off my back about this gala bullshit. “So we go in, schmooze all the rich city fucks, and make sure that Celia sparkles like a fucking diamond. What’s the big deal? It’s not like anyone will care about which man’s attached to her hip when she’s going to steal the spotlight.”
Rage levels me with a look. “I don’t want you to get arrested for being careless.”
“Just bail me out like usual.”
“He doesn’t want you to be alone ,” Thanatos clarifies, nodding like he agrees. “We’re vulnerable when we’re alone.”
My stomach churns at where this conversation is headed. “He wouldn’t kill me,” I mutter, frowning. “He has no reason to care about me at all.” Although our father won the annual Shittiest Dad of the Year award ever since Than was born, he gave more shit to my brothers than to me. I guess being the middle child kept me under the radar.
“ We care.” Rage claps me on the shoulder. “He could come after any one of us if it makes splitting us up and getting to Celia easier.”
Ugh. Why does revenge have to be so fucking complicated? You kill the guy, then it’s over. Boom. Vengeance complete.
“Well, I still think that Celia should wear one of her own dresses. And the name thing? Fucking stupid.”
I haven’t thought of myself as anyone other than Rebel in a goddamn decade, and I’m not about to start now, no matter what Rage thinks.
* * *
When my fake ID finally arrives, I quickly decide that it’s stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The picture is clearly photoshopped. All of my tattoos have been scrubbed clean in the image, even the knife on the side of my neck. On the night of the gala, Celia helps me cover up the real ones with concealer, spending two fucking hours making all three of my brothers and me presentable. We go through at least three bottles of makeup, despite it being made for tattoo cover-ups. She says something about blending to make everything look even, whatever the fuck that means.
While she gets ready in Rage’s bedroom, I stare at my reflection in my bathroom mirror, not liking what I see staring back at me. My lip piercing is lying on the counter instead of on my face where it belongs, and Rage forced me to get a haircut so that when I slick back my hair, it will actually stay in place without falling into my eyes. The barber shaved off the sides to give me some kind of a vintage gentleman look, but little did he know, I have a tattoo on my skull, too. It peeks out through what little remains on my sides, like a big old fuck you to my older brother.
I hope Rage notices and gets really fucking pissed about it.
Turning my head, I try to catch a glimpse of my ink. I got it shortly after officially joining the bratva, so it’s no wonder Rage doesn’t remember. He was too busy kissing Ezra’s ass to pay attention to what I was doing half the time. The tattoo has faded over the years, but the joker card’s fleshless skull is still grinning back at me, the bloodied knife he flicks over his head as red as the day it was inked.
If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s playing people. They’re too trusting of a pretty face, especially if that face knows how to win a lot of cash and have a good time.
Everyone at this pretend casino night event is about to have their bank accounts fucked hard, by yours truly.
I fiddle with the tie around my neck, the knot way too fucking tight on account of Rage’s anal standards about our appearance for the evening. It pinches my neck like it wants to get me off at half price. Rolling my eyes, I loosen it so that I can actually breathe, then unroll my sleeve cuffs so that they hang over my wrists.
“Perfection is necessary,” my ass.
The minute I’ve walked through those doors, I’m untucking my shirt and throwing the tie in the nearest trash can, appearances be damned. I’ve always been told that I have a roguish charm, and people will be able to see through me if I look all dolled up like some pompous billionaire.
I won’t pretend to be something—or someone—I’m not.
Which brings us back to the name dilemma.
I place my palms on the bathroom counter and lean over the sink, dangling my head and closing my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I will myself into thinking that the name doesn’t matter. It’s just a word. So what if people think I’m Emil tonight? It won’t change who I really am.
I’m still me. I’m still Rebel.
My birth name doesn’t fucking change that.
There’s a knock on my bathroom door before it swings open, and the most beautiful fucking woman steps into view. She’s not fully dressed yet, wearing a matching set of black lace panties, bra, and a little band around her thigh that conceals one of the tiniest knives I’ve ever seen. Fiddling with a piece of jewelry in her hands, Celia doesn’t look up as she approaches me. “Rebel, can you help me clasp this?”
My heart soars at being her go-to choice. “Yes,” I reply eagerly, dropping everything I’m doing to walk over to her. I hold out my open palm until she drops the diamond necklace in my hand. When she finally looks up, her eyes widen.
“You like it?” I ask, smirking as her eyes rake across my new look. I might not feel like me without my tattoos and piercings, but I sure as hell look as hot as I usually do.
Her eyes narrow for a second before she reaches up and ruffles my hair, undoing the gentleman look with a simple brush of her fingers. Carefully styling a few strands to fall over my forehead while the others tumble back, she smiles. “There. Now you’re as gorgeous as me.”
“Cheeky!” Folding over her body, I bury my face in the crook of her neck and inhale her perfume. All it takes is a slow skim of my lips over her skin for my cock to swell, and I’m dragging her body into mine. Nipping her delicate skin, I love the little gasp that falls from her lips.
“We don’t have time,” she sighs, hooking her fingers into my waistband. “C’mon, help me get ready. Rage is already throwing a fit over Ruin.”
I steal a lingering kiss, slipping my tongue between her lips with a groan. “Let him stew, baby. I’ve always got time for you.” I drop her necklace into my pocket and lift her, swinging her around until she’s braced on the bathroom counter.
God, she’s gorgeous. Her tits don’t spill out of her bra like they normally do, but fuck , I so don’t care. Running my tongue between them, I taste her skin, eager for more. “If I make you come,” I murmur, flicking my gaze up to her face, “then you don’t get to wear these —” I tug off her panties and slip them into my back pocket—“tonight.” Spreading her thighs, I inhale her scent and choke on a moan. Fuck , she’s delicious, and I haven’t even tasted her yet.
Scooting her ass to the edge of the counter and dropping a folded towel to the tile floor, I drop to my knees and finally dive between her thighs, licking a stripe along her pussy and groaning. Her nails dig into my scalp as I spread her lips and go deeper, spearing her with my tongue before laving her clit with long, hard strokes. Celia keens, her back arching as she digs her heels into my shoulders, pulling me closer.
Fuck , she’s into this. I’m into this. Why the hell have I been letting Rage do all the tongue work? Because he claimed it?
Her pussy gets wetter, drenching my mouth and chin, and I groan as my cock fills to bursting. I run the pads of my fingers along her entrance, teasing her, before getting to my feet and tearing at my belt. “Let me fuck you,” I pant. “I want you dripping down your thighs all night, baby.”
A bang behind me makes Celia jump, but I’m used to my brother’s outbursts. “ Rebel, ” Rage hisses, having burst into the room, “don’t you dare!”
Freeing my cock, I rush to get inside our girl before he spoils our fun. Slotting myself against her heat, I grin at Rage’s reflection as I push inside. “Ohhh,” I groan, grabbing her hip to steady her. She’s soaking wet and trembling, her legs quickly wrapping around my waist as I punch deeper, slotting myself fully inside of her. “Fuck, that’s good. Fuck , baby, that’s good.”
I barely get another thrust in before Rage is snarling behind me like a rabid animal, clearly having some kind of tantrum.
I’m too far gone to care, balls deep and panting in Celia’s ear. She slides her fingers through my hair, tugging on the strands until she’s able to latch onto my mouth. I groan as she bites my bottom lip and sucks, taking over my mouth the same way I’m taking her pussy, hard and fast and wet, so goddamn wet. My balls draw up and I come fast, the softest whimper escaping past my lips as my cock jerks, filling her up just like I’d promised, each pump painting her walls with my cream.
She hums against my mouth, then grabs my chin and wrenches my face to the side. “You don’t think you’re done, do you?” She pants, locking her legs tighter around my hips. With both of her hands anchored to my shoulders, she grinds her pussy onto my cock, crying out as she hits the perfect spot. “ Yes ,” she moans, her nails digging into my back. “Yes, Rebel, right there. God , I need you to make me come. I need it so bad. Don’t you want to make me come? You promised .”
I drive into her again, gasping as a surge of pleasure rushes down my spine. “I will, baby, I promise.” Shit. How long can I go? It doesn’t matter—I have to keep going. She latches onto my neck and sucks, sending another spark of need straight to my balls. “S-stop,” I whine, dropping my forehead onto her shoulder. “I can’t— fuck. ”
Celia brings her lips to my ear, her voice as sinfully sweet as her cunt. “You’ll come again for me, won’t you?” She grinds her hips, gasping as she moves. “ Please come for me. I need—I need more . Be a good boy and fill up my pussy.”
Oh. My. God.
Within seconds, my body’s convulsing for a second time as she milks my cock. This time, she murmurs a repeated yesyesyes as she chases her own high, finally coming with a high-pitched cry that sparks across my skin like firecrackers. I drag in lungfuls of air, tasting her desire on my lips, my tongue, the heavy scent of sex filling the room.
“Well then,” Rage rumbles somewhere in the distance, “you two get along well. ”
I can’t help but laugh at my brother’s burning jealousy. It’s eating him alive.
“What’s so fucking funny?”
Kissing a bright-eyed Celia before daring to meet my brother’s glare in the mirror, I grin wolfishly at him. “Give it a rest, man. She’s ours. If you want her, come get her.” I press another kiss to Celia’s lips, then to her flushed cheek. “Do you want him to fill you up, too, baby?”
I’m sure that Rage is tired of feeling like sloppy seconds, but it’s not my fault that he’s got a stick up his ass. If he’d let loose a little, I’m sure she’d open up to him as beautifully as she opens up for me. Hell, she’s opening up to Ruin. If anyone can love that fucker, then there’s hope for Rage, yet.
Rage cuts into the conversation before Celia can reply. “There’s no time. Get dressed—both of you. And keep your clothes on.” He smacks his palm against the door frame before leaving, no doubt needing to find a release of his own.
Celia traces her fingertips along my new fade, then runs her hands through my sweat-slicked hair. “Do you think he’s mad at me?” she asks, her eyebrows pinching with worry. “I just—it’s just that—” Sighing, she buries her face against my neck. “Things feel so easy with you, you know?”
I feel the exact same way.
“I know.”
Slowly pulling away from her, I slide my cock out from her slick heat and admire the mess we’ve made. I almost feel bad about taking her panties—but I really want her to be thinking of me all night long, no matter whose arm she’s on. Slipping my fingers between her thighs, I carefully gather the cum leaking from her slit and push it back inside, hoping that it takes.
I know that Rage insists on being the first of us to knock her up, but sometimes I think…
Maybe I want it to be me.
After helping Celia off of the counter and finally latching her necklace in place, I let her in on a secret. It’s actually why Rage came to find her in the first place, but I was too distracted to remember until post-nut clarity hit. Oops.
“He has a surprise for you,” I admit sheepishly, feeling a liiiiittle guilty for once. “That’s why he came in here.”
“Oh,” she breathes, flushing with embarrassment. “I guess I should, uh, go find him.”
Grabbing her hand as she tries to leave, I pull her back in for a slow kiss, hoping that she knows that even though Rage is struggling with his feelings, I don’t regret anything. “Hey,” I murmur, holding her tight in my arms. My heart pounds harder the longer I look into her eyes, and I suddenly forget what I was trying to say. “Um, I just wanted to say… that…”
I love you.
The words slam into my chest, and I’m not prepared for the overwhelming wave of emotion that follows.
Celia waits patiently for me to finish what I’m trying to say, and that makes it harder to remember anything other than those three little words.
“I don’t regret anything,” I blurt out, mentally cursing myself for dropping the bag. Would she even want to hear me say it? That I love her? Is now the right time? Does she even feel the same way about me?
“I don’t regret anything, either.” Kissing my cheek, she smiles. “I never regret anything with you, Rebel. You make me feel…” Her hazel eyes glitter like starlight. My heart kicks against my ribs like a bass drum.
Ba-dum.
“…alive. I really love spending time with you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and match her sweet smile with my own. “Yeah, me too.” I kiss her again to keep myself from saying something even more stupid, like how she not only makes me feel alive, but how perfect I think she is for our family… and for me .
Rebel.
Emil.
Whoever I am when we’re together.
That’s what I love.
The person I become when she’s around…
… and the person who makes it so easy to become him.
She slips out of the bathroom to go find Rage, and it’s only then that I’m able to say the words that have been running through my head.
“I love you.”