Page 43 of The Lost Kings
His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as he gaped at his hand.
“You scream and alert anyone and I have another blade for your tongue.”
His whimper was quiet, but he pulled his hand to his chest in agony.
“A kindness from me. You touched her, you’re lucky all I settled for was stabbing you. I could have taken it clean off.”
I smirked before standing above him, and right as I did, Presley and Gio rounded the corner. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, then flicked angrily over to me as if I had been the one to fuck up tonight.
My jaw clenched, and before she could say anything, I pulled her farther into the hall and disappeared behind a door.
Gio would fix my fuck-up by alerting Scotty to my little blunder.
“Why did you do that?” Presley spat at me as she spun around in her dress, letting it flare around her legs. I watched her, as entranced as I’d ever been by anything that I’d ever witnessed grow from the earth or bloom under the sun.
“Kingston.” She said my name again, and I finally sighed, giving her my answer.
“You can’t get that close to people here, Pres. He was dangerous. You told me there were enemies after your father. Be smarter than that next time you want to cozy up to someone who could hurt you.”
She crossed her arms, which pushed her chest up, and my eyes betrayed me by lingering on the plump flesh that her dress dipped to reveal.
“I was only talking to him…why do you care who I talk to?” Her blue eyes flashed the smallest bit with curiosity, and it felt like a ripe, red apple in the hands of a delicate sinner. I would be the corruptive snake that shed some artificial light on her.
Stepping closer, I smirked. “Maybe I was jealous,Elvis.” I slowly dragged my finger across her collarbone, and along the column of her throat.
I watched as she swallowed and her chin wobbled. “Jealous in what way?”
Tilting my head, I toyed with her. “What way do you think?”
She tried to take a step away from me, but I held her in place with a palm to her hip.
“Do you…” Her pink tongue came out and wet her bottom lip. “Like me?”
Like her? I thought over how I’d woken up early just so I could walk along the ridgeline and hide amongst the brick chimney to watch her walk with her cute little slippers out on her balcony and smile at the sunrise. Her hair always blew around her face like she’d made an invisible friend and it had waited all night to greet her.
At night I’d occasionally make my way there and crouch near that window just to ensure she was tucked inside, safe and protected. With a strange jolt in my chest, I decided this was enough.
A laugh escaped me as I stepped back. “You should see the look on your face, Pres.”
Her shapely brows curved in, crowding her cute forehead and the three freckles that rested near her hairline. That strange shudder in my chest returned tenfold, making my airway feel too tight.
“You were joking,” she said matter-of-fact and then she lowered her face as if to hide the blush that crept into her fair skin.
“Of course I was. You’re like a sister to me.” I stepped forward and gripped her chin between my fingers and then shook her head as if to dismiss this entire thing. “Doesn’t change the fact that you have to be careful in places like this. Nobody gets to touch you.”
Her eyes burned with ire, and I welcomed it because I liked warm things. I enjoyed the heat Presley gave to me when she burned hotenough to give it. It made me think of the jar of dirt she once gave me; all warm sunshine baked into the dust of the world that so consistently failed me. She had no idea how impossible she made existing.
Her presence was a thorn, puncturing and piercing my chest, but I learned to live with the pain. Even as kids, I had learned to tolerate how painful it was to look at her and not become completely undone by her, but then she grew, and she became more beautiful than I had ever imagined she’d be. She grew fierce and bold and completely perfect.
Now she stood there, glaring at me with hate and anger radiating from her in waves. I was crazy because I was half tempted to hand her the knife and ask her to cut me, just so I’d always remember this moment. This one time in space where it was just us, not our family, not Gio, no one. Just a glass jar, like a flower, trapped and protected.
“How about you not fight my battles, King.” Presley finally pushed past me, digging her shoulder into mine.
I laughed, gripping her wrist and tugging her back. “Oh no, and why not?”
Within seconds, she had a knife at my throat, pushing me back, her teeth bared. “Because I’m more skilled at battle than you are.”
Our lips were mere inches apart and I had to push down the way my fingers ached to grab her face and pull her closer. I knew it wouldn’t be welcomed. Presley wanted a stranger, someone to come in and sweep her off her feet. She didn’t want her best friend who spent more time in the dirt than most flowers. My fingers had a permanent layer of dirt under them; my clothes smelled like soil, and I was as positive as the diamonds that gleamed from her tiara that Presley James would never belong to someone like me.
