Page 10 of Always A Villain
“Did you mean what you said in the basement...that I’m just—” But I’m cut off again as his lips crash into mine. He kisses me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth. His fingers caress down my back, nails dragging along my skin.
“You can’t just kiss me to avoid answering my questions,” I whisper against his lips.
“Rory,” he breathes, the sound rough. “Little siren.” Reaching up, he brushes against the stitches on the back of my head. His jaw tenses as he holds my gaze, that damn Adam's apple bobbing with an audible swallow.
His touch is so gentle, a stark contrast to the moment we just shared, but it’s exactly what I need most. I want him.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he says, but his expression remains unreadable. “Go to sleep.”
Then he stands, grabbing his clothes, the soft click of the door closing behind him. Why the hell do I want him to stay?
But as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t want him to leave.
I sigh and pull the blanket tighter around me, deciding against a shower. I want his scent to cling to my skin. It’s pathetic. But I’m too exhausted to care.
“Here's your shit coffee, doll,” Griffen snarks as he shoves an oat milk latte into my hands.
“Thanks,” I reply with a large grin, deciding against throwing back a snarky comment about his black eye and split lip—obviously from his fight with Axe last night.
I take in the familiar sight of the Red Arena, a sprawling open-air stadium decked out with all the luxuries befitting the Sovereign. Food, alcohol, drugs, sex—you name it, they’ve got it. The Sovereigns have a notorious appetite for excess and depravity, and the Red Arena doesn’t disappoint. The stands and surrounding grounds are a chaotic blend of Sovereigns, Servants, and Associates from every corner of the globe. Even though this event is all about Sovereigns advancing in the East Coast section, it’s a full-blowncelebration that draws everyone in.
Somewhere in this sea of money and sex, Spencer is lurking, and Dad’s around too—though the thought of talking to him makes me roll my eyes. I have a few minutes to spare before I need to get ready for the Siren opening number.
“Where's Kyla?” I ask Griffen, scanning the crowd for her familiar face.
“Getting a drink.” He nods toward the bar area. Arsen walks up to Griffen, launching into a discussion about the upcoming fights, but my focus drifts.
That’s when I spot Axe striding toward us, his t-shirt hugging his muscular arms and black cargo pants hanging low on his hips. He’s walking with Priest, and together, they look gorgeously terrifying.
Priest Carmichael, son of the South High Chancellor—an heir—his black hair falling perfectly messy around his face, tattoos crawling up his neck. The Carmichaels are Sovereign royalty, one of the founding families that’s been ruling the South for generations. The man is a savage. He kills, he fucks, and he doesn’t give a damn about anything else.
Priest’s eyes roam over my body, his lips curling into a smirk as he winks.
Axe’s eyes narrow, catching Priest’s wink, and in an instant, he’s behind me, his arm wrapping tightly around my waist.
“If anyone fucking touches you,” he growls, lips brushing against my ear. “I’ll break every bone in their goddamn body. You understand?”
It was just a wink, for fuck’s sake. But that caveman possessiveness does something to me.
“Yeah, sure,sir,” I snap back, dripping sarcasm and defiance, even though part of me craves how he claims me like this.
He squeezes my ass hard enough to pull a gasp from me, and then, just as quickly, he releases me and shifts his attention back to Priest.
“Priest, I will fucking kill you. Don’t think for a second I won’t.”
Priest just smirks as the boys continue walking.
“You guys are so hot.” Kyla’s voice cuts through, and I whip my head around to see her grinning like a fool, beer in hand.
“Where the hell were you?”
“Enjoying the show from a safe distance.” Laughing, she wraps me in a quick hug. “You’re gonna kill it tonight, bitch. Go kick some ass.”
She smacks my ass with a wink of her own, then darts off before I can retaliate.
The backstage area hums with nervous excitement as I slip into my costume.
“Rory, catch!” Lana tosses me a black light paint marker, and I start tracing the body art design Dom insisted on. The marker glides across my skin with quick strokes, my mind half-focused until?—
