Page 5 of Kiss the Filthiest King

My hand's shaking a little.

"Ben?"

My fiancé answers from the lounge. "Yo, darling. Bring me a beer, would you?"

I sigh in relief. At least one thing in my life stayed predictable. I bet he's playing video games, unless it's time to watch the football game already.

Ben is a simple man. Constant. Rina never understood what I saw in him; the truth is, I'm used to him. I can count on him to be here, with simple needs that are no hardship to fulfill, and in exchange, I get warmth. Companionship. Someone to talk to.

I drop my bag on the kitchen counter, then head to the fridge to grab his beer and my white wine. I don't usually drink in the middle of the week, but I'm stressed as hell, so I pour a generous glass.

"How's your day?" Ben asks, eyes fixed on the gigantic TV screen.

According to the size to distance ration I checked online, we should have a 75-inch TV, as the sofa is seven and a half feet away from the wall where it hangs. And yes, I'm the kind of person who looks up ideal measurements before making purchases. Following a reliable guideline adjusted to my specific needs for the larger purchases in my life makes sense. A TV is a fair bit of change.

There's no excuse for the 98-inch monstrosity stuck to our wall—or the sound system screaming so loud our neighbors complained twice.

But again, that's entirely predictable from Ben. I remember rolling my eyes when he came home with that six months ago.

I don't mind, really. Life is about compromises. He gets his oversized toys. I get my three minutes of oral sex and two orgasms twice a week. Most of my friends can't boast half as much from their partners. Nor can my sister, for all her lovers and her parties and her sexy, tiny body made to be drooled over.

My heart constricts in my chest at the thought of Rina. And Rain.

Rain and Rina. I've always found it funny that their names were so close. Although they couldn't be any more different physically, they should be sisters, really. Rain's a giant, gorgeous brown witch, and Rina, a petite reddish-blonde sup, but they like the same music, the same parties, carry the same wild energy. Meanwhile, I'm an accountant, like my Dad.

I might love my sister, but I have a hard time dealing withtwoof them. Besides, Rina cares about me. She's always done her best to avoid actively hurting me. The same can't be said for Rain. I can't stand her.

I was surprised when she reached out. More horrified yet when I learned why she called. She hasn't heard from Rina either. That's not normal at all. If she's not with our family, then she should be with Rain. She doesn't really have anyone else in her life. Not anyone that matters.

I consider checking with some of her ex-boyfriends, but I sincerely doubt that'd be useful. Once she breaks a heart, she's done with it, no matter how much the boys she leaves behind beg and plead.

And they beg and plead to me. For years, I've been the in-between, the approachable sister to the larger-than-life, beautiful, gorgeous Rina.

She's the kind of person some guy might be crazy about, enough to kidnap or hurt. If one of her exes has her, it's not consensual.

I bite my lip.Maybe I should call the police. Instead, I try Mom and Dad's house phone again. It's after the Zumba class.

Nothing.

"Hey, what's the matter, babe?"

I blink. "Sorry."

I hand him the beer. Ben paused his game, which means I seriously freaked him out.

"I asked how your day was, and you spaced out."

Oh.

"I…I can't get hold of Rina. It's weird."

He snorts, unconcerned. "She's probably at some sort of rave or whatever."

My eyebrows knit together. "No, Rain would know. And she can't reach her either."

I'm about to say Mom and Dad are also gone today, when a sudden, loud crash resounds from my right. Glass bursts all around me, and I hide my face to protect my eyes, screaming. I only have time to glance up in confusion before someone takes a hold of me, pulling me up, in a painful hold around my throat.

No, not someone. Something. It's too strong to be human. My hands go to the arm, trying to remove it before it chokes me to death, but I might as well try to dislodge a vise. Then I start to thrash against it, trying to get away. All I get is a laugh.

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