Chapter 2
Chapter Two
My sudden, uncontrollable fit of laughter? Evaporated.
I wheezed, grappling for the bedside table and my inhaler. While I’d been doing great with my new asthma medications, old habits died hard.
Drake’s unexpected arrival hit like emotional whiplash after assuming he’d arrived unexpectedly already, and getting a reprieve from that surprise in the form of Morty Dread.
Because I wasn’t just half-dressed in his son’s bedroom in the middle of the night. I was all that with the Dread family heir smirking beside us. And Morty Dread did not strike me as the type to mellow out a tense situation.
If he spotted a huge pool of gasoline next to an open flame, he’d probably piss a trail between them to connect the two and set the whole area on fire. So, everything about our current situation caused wave after wave of panic.
Drake D’Arthur had hated my general presence inside Camelot Court from day one. He might blow a fuse if he thought I was seducing two of his elite Kings into my bed.
I didn’t want to think about what might happen if he learned what I’d done with just one King—his son and actual heir—and said King’s right-hand man.
I mean, I wanted to think about it.
But Drake’s reaction to learning about it? I’d pass.
My thoughts spiraled into a scattered mess of anxiety.
After believing the parents weren’t supposed to be here for a few days, being caught off guard by Drake’s unexpected arrival primed me for panic.
Kingston redirected my attention to him. “What do you mean he’s on his way?”
Morty inspected his nails and pursed his lips. “I called.”
Kingston raised an eyebrow. “Called whom?”
“Whom? Seriously?” Morty scoffed, but when Kingston stared him down, he confessed. “I called my baby bro, of course. Family business. You understand.”
He winked at me as he patted Kingston on the shoulder, and slithered toward the bookcases.
“You haven’t redone the place since I lived here, right?”
“No, but—”
Morty nudged his shoulder against the side panel of one of Kingston’s bookcases. He cursed under his breath when nothing happened, and I cocked my head to get a better view.
Stepping back, he assessed the bookcase from top to bottom before stepping toward it again. He slid his palm over the surface as he hummed.
“Ah.” He smirked, hand splayed just shy of the middle and slightly off center to the left. “There it is.”
With a grunt, he pushed, throwing his body weight into the force of his arm.
My eyes widened as a panel popped out and away from the rest of the bookcase, and I strained to get a closer look.
Morty blocked my view. “Your key, Your Highness?”
“What is this, Morty?” Kingston gave little away but a slight shake of his head. “Why the theatrics after that news? I need to get downstairs and prepare.”
“So true. So true.” Morty nodded. “Except—”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, sliding his thumb across the screen.
Neither Kingston nor I were close enough to see its contents, but Kingston’s demeanor changed. A sudden shift in his stance—feet slightly apart. The straightening of his spine. Tension in his shoulders as they rose to his ears. Fear rippled down his frame like a tremor beneath the Earth’s surface.
And to distract from it, he did something I’d seen him do countless times before.
He brushed his hand down the front of his clothes.
Awareness of what it meant hit me before Morty brought the phone over to Kingston. I moved off the bed and hunted for my clothes. I tugged on my bra and leggings beneath my sleep shirt, keeping my back turned toward them.
“He’s here.”
“Time to hide, little princess.”
I faced them, meeting Kingston’s eyes as they filled with fear. Darting from the bookcase to the bedroom door, he furrowed his brow before changing course.
In two quick strides, he pressed his hand on the wall by his drawing chair, and another secret panel opened up. “He’s in the house, Quinn. It’s too late—”
“On the stairs.” Morty’s clipped update came with a groan, and as Kingston pulled something out of one wall, Morty pulled the bookcase away from the other.
I didn’t question it. When Kingston held out his hand for me, I took it and went into the hidden space.
My eyebrows jumped as Morty stepped inside after me. “Wait—”
Kingston placed something in my hand and clipped out an order to our guest. “Morty, put your back against the wall.”
He complied, increasing my concern and confusion. Kingston led my hand to Morty’s neck, and as I adjusted my grip, I understood what he’d given me.
“If he moves, you push the plunger down.” My eyes widened, but he shook his head. “It won’t kill him. Not before I can save him, but it will stop him.”
“Oh, the dramatics,” Morty groaned.
Kingston and I snapped in unison, “Shut up, Morty.”
“Quinn?” The urgency in Kingston’s voice sealed my decision, and possibly, my fate. Morty could easily overpower me, and Kingston knew it. “If he moves even a muscle—”
“I got it.” I nodded, assuring him as best I could. “Go.”
Features drawn tight with fear, he retreated a step, and I faced Morty with my hand on the plunger of the small syringe. As soon as my eyes locked on him, Kingston shut us inside the secret passageway behind his bookcase.
Four heartbeats later, the door to Kingston’s bedroom opened and shut, and Morty just couldn’t help himself. He whispered, “I could easily get that away from you, you know?”
But the quiet tone of his voice was the only sign I had of how seriously he took the situation. And because I was seconds from freaking out, I rolled my eyes.
“Obviously, Morty. But you won’t.”
Light creeping in from above us illuminated his features enough to give away the slight twitch of his jaw.
With a low hum, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re scared of him, too.” The words came out without judgment, but he flinched. My grip tightened on the syringe. “I don’t get it. How one man gains that kind of power, but he has it over all of you, doesn’t he?”
His eyes narrowed on my face, studying me as he swallowed tightly, but he didn’t say anything else.
The longer the silence drew on, the more anxiety crept in.
My palms grew slick, and my heart thumped loudly in the silence between us.
The beat quickened as minutes dragged by.
Morty never took his eyes off me, but mine darted down to the syringe every few seconds to make sure it remained firmly against his throat. The pulse in his neck throbbed steadily as my heart rate rose.
“Think you could you do it, little princess?”
That question—whether or not I could push down and incapacitate him, possibly killing him—filtered in past the bravado that had been keeping it at bay.
“Could I take a life, if it came down to it, to protect myself?”
When I’d first arrived at Camelot Court, the answer had been simple. It would’ve been no. The death of my father had been too fresh. Too paralyzing to even consider the thought. And I hadn’t felt like I had it in me to fight.
Although, deep down, I believed I would’ve.
For Gia, I did.
Now, with everything I’d seen and learned about their world, I had to consider it as a real possibility. And if I was attacked again, I’d fight back. That fierce protectiveness had flared inside my chest at the thought of any of my three men being hurt, so I’d fight for them.
If it were me, my life on the line…if I faced down an enemy that wanted to destroy me, I’d fight to protect myself.
For the chance to live without fear—love without limits—I’d kill for it.
Maybe not Morty.
No use marring my clean conscience for just anybody, but if Drake D’Arthur threatened me?
Yeah, I could do it. Gladly.
I believed that even as I hoped I’d never have to decide.
“I see what he sees in you.”
At Morty’s sudden whisper, I flinched.
My hand jerked, alarming us both.
“Don’t be hasty, darling.” His lips curled into an arrogant grin, and he leaned his head back to tilt his chin up farther, exposing more of his neck. “I’m just saying I get it.”
His appreciative gaze crawled over my skin, and I hated the way it felt. Not like I’d claimed to hate his brother’s onyx gaze. Not the way Max Dread got under my skin.
When Morty leered at me, it just felt—wrong.
“Maybe you and I should—”
“Charmed, I’m sure, but my dance card is full.” I scoffed and pressed the needle into his skin. “Or whatever beautiful, rich people say when there’s not a chance in hell, Morty.”
He chuckled, cocking his head as he made a final pass over my body. “Quite frankly, doll face, you’re not my type.”
“I’m still holding the syringe, asshole.” I didn’t put pressure on the plunger, but the desire to do so increased. “And I’m happy to stab you just for fun.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He smirked and rolled his eyes, his posture relaxing as we both accepted he wasn’t going to do anything to make me stab him, and he assumed I was hesitant to do so.
But when I didn’t ease my grip, he got a dark, wild look in his eyes. “You don’t have a best friend you could hook me up with, do you?”
“Ew.” My fingers clenched reflexively, and I forced my grip to relax. “No.”
“Bit of a loner?”
Glaring at him, I took in his face fully for the first time.
It was eerily similar to Max’s, and my new awareness of their connection amplified features I hadn’t lingered on the first time we met.
But unlike Max’s darkness, which had been a shield, Morty’s ran deep. With dark brows, full lips, and sharp cheekbones, he had a decent face.
Plus, he was tall. And the slightly manic look in his eye put him high on the Hot/Crazy scale.
If Gia met him on the streets, she’d be into him.
No doubt about it.
But the thought of her getting mixed up with any of the Camelot Court insanity flared protectiveness in my chest wilder than it had been for anyone else.
I turned up my nose, my tone icy. “She’d never stoop so low.”
“Ouch.” He pouted, but his feigned hurt lasted all of two seconds before he brushed it off with a smirk aimed at my smug grin. “But that’s fair, I guess. And I’m picking up what you’re putting down.”
“What are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “I might need something to sweeten the deal. A friend, perhaps? Is she into two, or does she also like her lovers in threes?” He waggled his eyebrows as I stepped into his body, thumb ready on the syringe. “Oooh. Maybe, another gal pal?”
Before I killed the asshole for breathing a word about Gia, a creak broke the rising tension between us.
The bookcase slid away, and Kingston appeared.
As soon as he saw us standing there in the same position he’d left us, he released a deep exhale.
Relief eased the stress in his features, and I averted my stare back to Morty.
Suspicion laced through my veins, but I didn’t register how tightly I gripped the syringe until Kingston wrapped his hand around mine.
“Quinn…?” he spoke softly, as Morty lifted his chin in a challenge to me. “It’s alright now, love. You can let go.”
But I didn’t answer him. I spoke directly to Morty. “How did you know that?”
He cocked his head and arched a brow. “You already know the answer to that, little princess.”
Eyes narrowing, I growled. “Answer the question.”
Kingston squeezed my hand. “Quinn—?”
“It’s about Gia,” I snapped.
He released me immediately, and I sensed the shift of his focus to Morty.
Morty rolled his eyes. “Cameras? Remember? Surveillance is sort of my thing?” He glanced between us. “Any of that sound familiar?”
My mind raced over my calls with Gia. “You put a camera in my room?”
“Jesus,” Kingston sighed. “What the—”
Morty scoffed and pushed forward into my hand, embedding the needle in his skin without me moving an inch.
Spots of blood appeared in the vial as the needle sank deeper into his neck. Tiny crimson clouds bloomed in the clear fluid, a pulsing beat like the heads of jellyfish swimming through the ocean.
I hyper-focused on it.
Mostly, to avoid why I didn’t press the plunger down.
Why I froze, as he pressed forward.
Kingston’s hand on Morty’s chest stilled his progress. “Explain. Now.”
But Morty didn’t look at him. His eyes remained locked on mine. “You should’ve left when I turned you away at the gate.” He nodded at the recognition dawning on my face. “That’s right. I tried to save you. Twice. But now it’s too late.”
Kingston’s grip tightened into a fist, clenching the fabric of his shirt. I caught sight of it, even though I couldn’t tear my eyes from Morty’s.
“You’re not the first outsider to believe you could change what’s rooted in the ground beneath our feet. Plans have been set in stone since our infancy. And now?”
The gleam in his eyes held fear and something…familiar.
“Only time will tell if you’ll avoid her fate.”