Page 7 of Bloody Kingdom

“No,” the man who’s holding me answers, his chest vibrating against me when he speaks. “I’ll take care of her. Deal with the body, Duke.”

Why is this happening to me?is the last thing I think before my world goes dark.

Ican’t remember the last time I saved someone, taking lives is so much easier than saving them. There was a second tonight where I considered letting Gallo’s man scoop her up and take her off to God knows where, but unfortunately for me, I need Quincey Page alive.

Heneeds her.

He could have had anyone, but he was adamant it had to be her.

That thought makes an angry growl build in my throat and my hands scrub harder at the blood caking my fingers. Punching your fist all the way through someone’s chest isn’t the cleanest endeavor, but I wasn’t thinking straight. The scent of Quincey’s blood filled the dirty alleyway and made my control slip momentarily. The sweet scent—almost like vanilla—spurred the beast inside of me on.

The water in the sink turns from dark crimson to pale pink before finally running clear. With an exhausted sigh, I reach for the soft black towel the maid left folded on the counter for me.

I wasn’t supposed to be there tonight, Duke promised me he had it handled, but I found myself ordering my driver to take me to her bar. When I discovered she’d been left to walk home alone again, I’d taken off on foot tracking her, the voice in my head I usually elect to ignore encouraging me to find her. Good thing I had listened since Duke was fucking late.

While her unwarranted positivity and courageousness is admirable, it’s also wildly thoughtless. She knows the dangers of these streets, yet she elects to pretend they do not exist. I know the dangers better than anyone—I’m the biggest threat in the shadows after all.

“Boss?” Duke’s voice comes from behind me, and I meet his eye through the mirror in front of me.

“Is she awake?” I question as I slip off the ruined, blood-stained dress shirt I wear.

Duke scoffs, his blond head shaking. “There was enough sedative in that syringe to take out a two-hundred-pound marine. The girl’s going to be out a little while longer.”

I toss the shirt into the trash can before making my way into my vast closet. I would prefer to take a shower before changing into a fresh suit, but I don’t have the time. “Did the doctor check on her wounds?” Even without the overwhelming scent of her blood, it was clear to me she was injured in her attempted escape. Her face was already starting to bruise on the drive to my house.

“She’s been bandaged up and given a tetanus shot.” Duke leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of him. “They gave her a dose of strong antibiotics as well, just in case bacteria got into any of her open wounds.”

“She ran through the French Quarter with no shoes on, of course, she was exposed to bacteria,” I say dryly. “Humans and their weak immune systems.” I don’t remember what it’s like to worry about things like disease and germs—it’s a foreign concept to me at this point.

“We aren’t all invincible like you, Laurent.”

“Pity.” I finish fastening the last of the buttons on my black dress shirt.

“She’s asleep in the guest room in the west wing like you instructed.” Duke steps out of the way, letting me pass him. As usual he’s unfazed by the stern look I give him. If anything, he finds amusement in my irritation. “She has more fight in her than I originally thought.” His lips twitch. “She looked so docile when we were watching her, but when push comes to shove, I think Quincey is going to push back. Are you prepared for that?”

I pause at the door, hand on the handle before turning to look at him over my shoulder. “You don’t think I can handle a tiny, angry, human?”

Duke just shrugs. “I’m just saying, you’ve been bent out of shape and not acting like yourself since you agreed to bring her in. I’ve never seen you put your entire hand through someone’s chest before. That was bloody. Maybe a little gross.” Stuffing his hands in his worn jeans, he shuffles a few feet forward. “I’m just asking if you can keep it together while she’s here. I’ve taken care of a lot of bodies for you, hers is one I don’t want to drag into the swamp.”

I have him pinned to the wall behind us before he has a chance to say one more thing out of line. Holding him by the throat, a foot off the ground, I remind him who the fuck he’s dealing with. “I’ve been lenient with you, Duke, because usually I don’t mind your company. You’re smart, good at your job—overall an asset to me, but at the end of the day, you’re still replaceable. Keep that in mind the next time you question me or my control.” Duke is strong for a human, but his efforts to free himself are futile against me. “It’s true. I don’t want her here, but I made a promise a long time ago and I plan to follow through with it. That means I need her alive.”

Even as I say the words, I know it will be easier said than done to keep my control intact with her in my space—my home.

“No one will harm that woman again.” I’ve made sure of it. “Let alone me. I don’t intend on spending any more time with her than necessary. Not” —my hand grips his neck tighter to drive my point home— “that I have to answer or explain myself to you, Duke.”

Without a second look, I release him. The sound of his large body hitting the ground echoes behind me as I exit the room.

She sleeps soundlyin the middle of the large bed. Her ankle is bandaged, and the tan skin of her face is marred with angry purple marks. The doctor filled me in when I arrived at her room. The wound on her ankle has a couple stitches in it that will need to come out in a week or so, but other than that, she’ll just be in some mild discomfort for a few days.

Overall, she’s lucky.

Well, she would be considered lucky if she’d actually made it away from the alley a free woman. Instead, she just traded one monster for another more ruthless one. I’m sure I should be experiencing a level of guilt for forcing someone like Quincey into my world, but for reasons that may be selfish, I need her here. If it means sullying her in the process, so be it.

Duke was right. The sedative she was given was not meant for someone her size. She’s been sleeping for the past hour since I entered her room. From my spot by the window, I watch her chest rise and fall steadily. Her heart combined with the wind outside are the only sounds that fill the vast room.

Quincey looks younger than her twenty-four years while she sleeps. The innocence I knew already existed in her is even more prevalent in the way her pale pink lips pout and quirk from her pleasant dreams. How someone put in her situation still has enjoyable dreams is beyond me. Her sleep should be filled with nothing but nightmares. Her life itself is a nightmare right now and I’m her new monster under the bed.

When her eyelashes flutter and her eyelids slowly blink open, I freeze in place, hoping the shadows conceal me for just a moment longer. Her eyes slowly scan the room, confusion pinching her features. I know the second she remembers the events that took place today because her heart rate spikes and she flies into a sitting position in the bed. Her blonde hair, the strands still caked with blood and grime, whip around her shoulders.

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