“WHAT THE FUCK?” I SHOOT up in my chair, hitting my head on the top of the ceiling. “No… no, that makes no sense at all, because my mom and dad would have told me. And that makes no sense because that would mean you would be a King, but you’re not. You’re a lost boy, and you’re here, living this…” I look outside. “…weird-as-fuck life, and my mom and dad are actually good people. I mean, I’d like to think they’re good people and they would never leave you to be living this life and—what the fuck?” I repeat after my freak out. “Okay.”
Breath in and out. Slow intakes of breath.
One.
Two.
Three.
I look at him, but his face is still the same. He’s watching me in fascination, like I’m a foreign object he wants to learn about. “Don’t do that,” I murmur, suddenly realizing how uncomfortable it’s making me now, because it’s as though he can read my thoughts.
“I can.” He nods.
“What?” I snap. I swear to God, if this turns all supernatural-y, I will demand that Dean Winchester roar into my life in his fucking muscle car and sweep me off my feet, or I’m done.
“I read what you think, but not because I read mind. Because I read your expressions. You need to control them.”
“My expressions are fine the way they are.”
“Fine?” he asks, confused with the word.
Oh, sweet mother of God. I came here to relax, and instead, I’ve been thrown into a pool of more questions. Finally calming my breathing enough to ponder his revelation, I turn in my seat. “If that’s true, and you are my brother, my twin brother—”
“It’s true. I do not lie, Madison.”
“Let me finish.” The way he cuts into my conversation has me thinking he’s obviously my brother.
“Why? Why are you here? Why did Mom and Dad not tell me about you?”
“Those are questions I not answer. Not me. Not now. Another time. You must go.”
“No!” I yell, just as his hand touches the door handle. “You can’t drop a bomb like that and leave! What is this place?” I look up to the ranch and then back to him. His eyes are sad as he looks back to me.
“Hell.”
“Who else lives here?” I ask, pressing with more questions and wanting him to bleed out more answers.
“Katsia and Lost Boys.”
“Katsia is your boss?”
He shakes his head. “Katsia owns Lost Boys.”
He goes to open the door again, and I stop him. “What? This is obviously not the same Katsia as the one in the book.” Again, I remind myself about my earlier statement of Dean Winchester.
He looks back at me, confused. “Never mind. But is she good or is she bad?” Though I already know the answer to this, I just need clarification. I’ve been wrong in the past.
“Malus,” he whispers, finally getting out of the car. I inch up off my seat, reaching for my phone in my back pocket, and switch it on. Malus? This fucking language is going to kill me one day. Typing Malus into google translate, the word Bad comes up in the little white box. Great, as suspected, she’s bad. Are there any good people left in this world?
Leaning back in my chair, I think over what my options are right now. I could leave, tell the boys, and then come back and get Damon. But what if they already know I have a brother? What if they already know about this place? About Katsia? No, I’ve only got myself. Tilting my head, I look toward the ranch again, watching as Damon stands outside the main entrance, his hands behind his back and his eyes remaining forward. Such posture, poise, and discipline.
Starting the car, I put it into Drive and head toward the front entrance, where Damon is standing. He looks at my truck and then quickly looks behind him, checking to make sure no one is coming. Pulling open the passenger door, his jaw tenses. “What are you doing, Madison?”
“Get in.”
“I can’t—”
“Get the fuck in this car now, Damon. I’m dead serious. Nothing will happen to you.” He looks over his shoulder and then looks back to me. Removing his hat, he tosses it across the sidewalk and gets into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him. Skidding out of the ranch, I make my way down the long driveway, the darkness of the night soaking through all the trees. During the day, this driveway looks incredible, all bright colors and positive energy, but at night, it looks like it could be the driveway to Hades. The trees reach over the long road, casting shadows in the night. I look toward Damon, the dash lights illuminating his features a smidge.
“Are you okay?”
He shakes his head. “This is not good. Katsia—”
“Will do nothing,” I snap, then relax a little. “Look, I don’t know if you can understand fully what I’m saying, but I’m going to go with it anyway. I don’t know who I can trust in this world or who I can’t. I’ve trusted the wrong people before, and it won’t be the last time, but I trust you.”
He looks to me now, his eyes softening. “You trust me?”
“Yes,” I respond, taking my eyes back to the road ahead and making a right turn onto the main highway. “I can’t explain how or why, but I do. But know this,” I murmur. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Damon.”
“I don’t need your protection, Madison.”
“I know. But Katsia won’t do anything.”
“You not understand,” he whispers. “I’m the alpha Lost Boy.” Even the word alpha sounds weird coming out of his mouth because he doesn’t seem like that kind of guy to me. I haven’t seen him in an alpha form, so I giggle a little.
“Madison,” he shakes his head in disdain, “so much you don’t know.”
“Well, we have a forty-minute drive back.”
“You never should come back, Madison.”
I look at him then the road and then back to him. “What? Why?”
“He knew no take you there but did anyway.”
“Who?”
He looks at me dead in the eye. “Your father.”
The drive back was done in silence after Damon’s little outburst of how I shouldn’t be back in the Hamptons. I wanted to press to learn why, but I can’t. Not yet. I can see how Damon will only share what he wants to share, and he’s not the type of person that can be swayed.
We pull into our underground garage, and I look at the clock in the dash. Just past midnight, so everyone should be asleep, if my dad and Elena are even home. I don’t see Nate’s car anywhere, so I know he’s not in for the night. Probably out terrorizing some poor girl. Pushing the button to close the garage door, I get out of the car and round to the passenger side. Damon follows, shutting the door behind him.
“Come on. You can sleep in my room until I figure some stuff out.”
“I can’t stay.” He shakes his head.
“The fuck you can’t.” I take his arm, and he tenses at my touch, yanking away from me.
“Sorry,” he mutters when he sees the shock on my face.
“It’s okay. So you don’t like being touched. That’s probably the least of the weird thing I’ve come across as far as phobias go.” Beeping the car, I make my way toward the door with Damon following closely behind me.
“It’s not a phobia,” he confesses, just as we make our way up the stairs to the main living area.
I turn over my shoulder a little. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it.”
He pauses, his eyes searching my face before he nods. “Thank you.”
I smile softly, and then round the stairs, taking the first step. “I’ll get some of Nate’s clothes for you. He won’t mind, and even if he did, he could eat a fat….” I notice he’s not following me anymore and turn around, finding him still on the first step and looking to the ground like he’s trying to add something up in his head. “Damon?”
“Nate?” he whispers. “Nate?” he repeats, searching the ground once more.
“Yes?” I take a tentative step back down. “Nate Riverside?”
Damon stills. “Not Riverside.”
Huh? I swear this is too much. “We can finish all these conversations tomorrow. Come on, let’s get some sleep.” I reach my hand out to him and he takes it, letting me lead him up the stairs and into my room. As soon as he’s inside, he pauses, looking around.
“No pink?”
I shake my head. “Not a pink girl.”
Damon looks like he wants to giggle, but doesn’t. In fact, I don’t recall ever seeing him smile, much less giggle. “Not surprising.”
I tilt my head. “I’ll set you up on the floor. I’ll just go and get something for you to wear from Nate’s room.” Though Nate is noticeably larger than Damon, I’m pretty sure he can make it work until I take him to get new clothes.
Slipping into my bathroom, I open Nate’s door, the dark room a little creepy. Hitting the light, I walk straight to Nate’s closet.
“The fuck are you doing, sis?”
“Shit!” I scream, spinning around and coming face-to-face with Nate. Damon comes barging through the door, his eyes feral and his stance stiff. “It’s okay!” I tell Damon, noticing how he looks about ready to rip someone’s head off.
He isn’t looking like the Damon I’ve just met and spent a bit of time with.
“And who the fuck are you?” Nate quips, getting out of bed with his Calvin Klein briefs on.
“Nate, get back into bed.”
“No,” he says, narrowing his eyes on Damon. “I know you.”
“No, you don’t,” I brush him off while praying he doesn’t so I can leave this conversation until tomorrow. I’m hungry, tired, and I didn’t get the rest I wanted and needed, so I’m about ready to jump off the cliff of “calm and collected” and dive straight into the ocean of “lost my shit” with five-foot swells of “I’ll kill you all.”
“Yes,” Nate continues, slowly stepping closer and closer to Damon. “You…” Something clicks in his head, and he suddenly launches toward Damon, his fist flying toward his face.
“Nate!” I scream, throwing myself toward the two of them, but latching onto Nate’s back, my arms connecting around his throat. Damon swerves, dodging his punch calmly, his face not showing any distress. He looks almost disinterested—bored.
Nate falls to the ground with me on top of him.
“What the fuck?” I slap Nate on the back. “Dick!”
Nate flips me on my ass and gets to his feet, pointing down at me. “Stay the fuck there.” Then he turns to Damon. “I fucking know you.”
I get to my feet. “Leave him alone.”
Damon looks to Nate. “I know you do.”
“Shut up, Damon!” I snap. He needs to shut his mouth before he says something stupid. Hopefully, he’ll say it in Latin.
Nate tilts his head. “Et tu puer vetustus amissus….”
Well, there goes that theory.
“You speak fucking Latin?” I yell toward Nate, but he throws his hand up, halting me. Getting my phone out of my pocket, I quickly pull up the translate app, so I can type at least one word I catch into the program. I snap my mouth closed, sensing the tense energy in the room. It’s almost like two devils have come head-to-head, and one of them is going down. It’s eerie, creepy, and goose bumps break out over my spine at just how seriously terrifying this is.
Damon’s stance changes. The air shifts as his shoulders square, his eyes break into black marbles, and his lip curls.
I step back, realizing how little I know about him. His entire being just morphed in front of my very eyes. No longer is he the quiet valet boy who speaks hardly any English. Now, I’m seeing him—as he put it—the Alpha Lost boy.
“Pueri et im amissa.”
Lost Boy.
Okay, so Nate knows about them. Or something was said about the Lost Boys. Of fucking course he does.
“Well this is all great and everything, but I’m tired—”
“Madison! Shut up!” Nate snaps at me.
He turns back toward Damon, stepping closer. My fingers twitch, wanting to get between them to stop any other altercation from happening. “Non potes habere eam,” Nate seethes, his lip curled and his steps calculated. Like a hungry tiger, waiting to take its kill on his prey.
Can’t have her.
Okay, what the fuck?
“Have me?” I ask, looking up from my phone. “What are you two actually fuckin—”
The door bangs open, revealing Bishop standing there, his dark hoodie over his head, in his loose, torn jeans, and with his combat boots on his feet. His eyes scan over me first before going to Nate and Damon.
“Are you kidding me?” I yell, quickly making my way toward Damon.
Nate is lethal; he could snap someone’s neck with his bare hands and not blink, but Bishop? Bishop is a different level entirely. He’d not only snap your neck; he’d dissect your body piece-by-piece and send each of your organs to a member of your family.
“Madison,” Bishop growls. It’s so low, it catches my breath. I look toward him, but press my back against Damon. Bishop’s eyes are dark, almost black, his head down slightly, his jaw tense, and his lip curled in disgust. He doesn’t flinch. All his focus is solely on Damon. “Get the fuck out of my way.”
“No!” I snap. “Damon isn’t like the others, whatever they’re like. I wouldn’t know, because I don’t speak motherfucking Latin!” I’m losing my shit a bit, but I’m sick of being the quiet voice in the house.
“Madison. Get the fuck out of the way before I fucking move you myself.”
“Madison,” Damon says gently from behind me, and I shiver at the cool calmness of his voice. It’s petrifying, but peaceful. I know he won’t hurt me, so I trust him.
“Shh,” I hush him over my shoulder before looking back to both Nate and Bishop.
“Now both of you are going to let me finish speaking.” I look between the two of them. “Damon left Katsia—and yes, I know about Katsia, and before you both fly off the handle, I drove to the ranch, not knowing what it was, only remembering what is was like there as a kid.”
Forget.
I take a big gulp of air. “I needed a fucking break from you guys, so I drove to the only place I remember my dad taking me as a kid—that ranch. It wasn’t until I got there and met Damon and then Katsia…” I shake my head, still in shock from that revelation. “…that I realized the place was something else entirely. I look toward Bishop, his eyes still on Damon like he’s ready to feast on him for dessert.
“Bishop?” I narrow my eyes. “Did you guys know he’s my brother? My twin?”
Bishop’s focus snaps straight to me before going back to Damon. “Et nuntiatum est illi?”
“Stop fucking talking in Latin!” I yell, annoyed with everyone even though the way the syllables roll off Bishop’s tongue has my lady bits tingling. “Did you both know?” I repeat, looking toward Bishop and Nate.
“Yes,” Bishop answers, dropping his hoodie to sit around his neck. He cranks his shoulders, rolling them out before looking back to Damon. “But that doesn’t mean shit. You shouldn’t trust him.”
“Why?” I scoff. “Like I shouldn’t have trusted you?”
His mouth snaps closed. “That’s different.”
I roll my eyes and look back to Damon. “Go into my room. I’m okay. I’ll handle it.”
Damon pauses then nods. “Okay.” He turns and walks back to my room, and I shut Nate’s door, spinning around to look at both boys. “The fuck is your problem?”
“Madison,” Nate says, his tone empty of any humor. This is Nate’s serious voice, and usually I take it seriously, but they need to trust me now.
“No, Nate. I trust him. He’s not going to hurt me.”
Nate steps toward me, but Bishop’s hand comes up to his shoulder, stopping him. He looks toward Bishop, and Bishop shakes his head. “I’ll handle this.”
I swallow.
Bishop walks toward me, his finger hooking under my chin to nudge my head up. He looks down, towering over me. “First thing I’m going to say is that when I say you don’t trust someone, Madison, I usually mean you don’t fucking trust someone. Second thing? Do you know what the Lost Boys’ job is, Madison? What their main job is? What Katsia is? Who she is?” His fingers spread over my cheeks as he pushes me backward until I hit the wall behind me. He drops his tone, his hand squeezing my cheeks so tightly my lips pucker. “I’m so fucking angry at you, Kitty. I don’t know whether I should fuck you or kill you or both,” he whispers angrily, his lip curled and his breath falling over mine. My heart pounds in my chest.
Oh, God. I’ve really pissed him off. Usually, I enjoy this, but not when I see the anger lingering in his eyes. That anger is a caged beast, seconds away from breaking free.
“Of course I don’t know, Bishop.” I nudge my head, trying to get my face out of his grip, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he steps in between my legs and pins my waist to the wall with his, feeling his cock push into my stomach.
Narrowing my eyes, I look down to his perfect lips. “You don’t tell me shit.”
His jaw tenses, and then a smirk licks the corner of his mouth. But it’s not a nice smirk. This is Bishop’s other smirk. The one I saw when he slit Ally’s throat. Fear whistles through my bones, just lightly. Enough to make me brace myself for what’s to come.
He brings his mouth to my ear. “When I fucking say don’t trust someone, Madison. You don’t trust them.”
“What do they do?” I ask, closing my eyes.
Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.
“Lost Boys?” Nate grins, walking up behind Bishop. “Who do you think takes care of the little Swans, Madison?”
“Take care?” My eyebrows furrow. I look to Nate, his grin not changing. My stomach curls in disgust as realization sinks into my thought process. “Oh my God.”
Bishop’s hand moves from my face to my throat, and he squeezes slowly. “Gotta say, this is getting my dick hard like nothing. It’s a dangerous thing you have me feeling, Kitty. The angrier you make me, the more I want to fuck you until you’re so fucking bruised that you feel the wrath of my anger for weeks after.”
“But… but he won’t hurt me.” I ignore his sick innuendo.
“Oh?” Nate scoffs, walking to the little bar fridge he has in the corner of his room, pulling out a bottled water. He looks to me in disbelief. “What? Because you’re fucking blood? That doesn’t mean shit, Madison. He’s not a good person. He is probably here to obtain you—ever think of that?” Nate tosses the bottle onto his bed and walks back toward Bishop—who hasn’t released my throat—and me.
“What about Katsia?” I ask. “Who the fuck is she and what does she play in this game? She’s obviously the descendant of the Katsia in The Book—sorry,” I correct myself, “Tacet de Mortues.” In a flash, Bishop squeezes tight and slams me up against the wall again. “Who the fuck told you that?”
“What?” I wheeze out. “Let go, Bishop!”
He loosens his grip, but when I look into his eyes, I see it. That same caged beast. This is the other side to Bishop I’m talking with right now, and I’m not sure I like it anymore.
“Bro.” Nate notices Bishop’s shift. “Step back.”
“Fuck off, Nate.”
Nate looks to me and then to Bishop, knowing he can’t say anything. Bishop loosens his grip and I nod at Nate, signaling he’s released it.
I stretch my neck. “Do that again, and I’ll knee you in the nuts, grab my .45, and shoot your fucking hand clean off.”
Bishop smirks, his tongue running over his bottom lip. “You do that…” His eyes dance in mischief—black magic kind of mischief. “…and I’ll wash your hair with my blood while you choke on my dick.”
“More like I’ll bite it off,” I mutter, challenging the devil himself.
“Naw, baby. You and I both know you love it too much.”
“Fuck you. I’ll cut it off and make you watch as I fuck—”
“As excited as I am about this very disturbing and very sick dirty talk—” Nate looks between Bishop and me. “—seriously, y’all need help—we have a very serious matter that is currently sitting in the next room.”
I shove Bishop, and he steps up to me again in challenge, his chest brushing against mine, bringing my nipples to life. Fuck. Why do both our hormones have to feed on hate? I’m fucked.
I bring my palm to Bishop’s chest, narrowing my eyes at him. “Anyway.” I look toward Nate. “Okay, so what does Katsia play in this? In the book, she was good.”
“She, being the original, yes,” Nate murmurs, taking a seat on the end of his bed. “But this one… no.”
“Who is she? This one, I mean.”
“In short,” Bishop says, finally getting out of my bubble and grabbing the water bottle Nate tossed onto the bed. “She’s—realistically speaking—on our side. She’s not a part of The Kings, but Katsia’s family have played this role for generations. The one in the book, she started the original Lost Boys.”
“The original Lost Boys? But wouldn’t that mean she agreed to get rid of the Silver Swans?” I ask, confused. “That makes no sense, because she was always… not like that.”
“No,” Nate interferes. “That wasn’t the original purpose for the Lost Boys.”
“What was?” I ask them both.
“How far are you into the book?” Nate asks, looking up at me from under hooded eyes.
“11. Why can’t you guys just tell me? Fuck.”
“No,” Bishop shakes his head, “it’s important you read it. We all had to.”
“What?” I scoff, sliding down the wall and taking a seat on the hard floor. “You guys all read it?”
They both nod. “After initiation, that was what we had to do.”
“That’s fucked up,” I whisper, looking off into the distance. “When did my life get so messed up? It’s always been messed up, but the more I discover about it, the more questions I have.” I look back to both of them. “Will this ever be over?”
They look back at me. “No.”
“Well, thanks,” I mutter dryly. “Can we just… give Damon a chance? What if he really is on my side, huh? And you guys knock him off when he really could have been helpful!”
“Not taking the chance,” Bishop says instantly.
“I wasn’t asking you, so sh—”
“Watch your fucking mouth. Everything that has to do with the Kings, Madison, goes through me. Everything to do with you also happens to go through me. So whether you like it or not, you go through me. So you may as well do it on your hands and knees with your ass in the air like a good little kitty,” he hisses through a smug grin.
“The kitty has claws, so I’d watch it,” Nate warns.
Having about enough of Bishop’s smartass mouth, I tilt my head. “I don’t remember her scratching last night.” I smirk at Nate, and he looks back to me, his eyes wide, slowly shaking his head. He brings his hand up to his throat, making a cutting motion for me to stop. Too late, I’ve committed. Swinging my eyes back to Bishop, his jaw now clenched. “Oh no,”—it’s my turn to smirk now—“if I remember correctly…” I pretend to look up to the ceiling, thinking about what I’m going to say next. “…there was a shower… a towel…. Wait!” I throw my hand up and chuckle. “No,” I laugh forcefully, looking back to Bishop, my grin wide and my mouth slightly open. “That’s right. There was no towel. Just a whole lot of… grinding… kissing… and—”
“Now, bruh, I can explain.” Nate quickly gets to his feet, stepping backward with his hands up. “That was not how….” Nate looks to me, his stare evil. “Why you have to open your fucking mouth?” he grounds through gritted teeth.
I smirk.
Nate looks back to Bishop, who is looking directly at Nate with so much hate it makes what he was giving Damon seem like child’s play.
Rolling my eyes, because I actually love Nate and don’t want to plan his funeral—just yet—I interrupt. “Calm down, Bishop. It was a hard night, and you can’t say shit.”
“Oh really?” Bishop looks to me. “Because I don’t remember the last time I was sucking face with another girl since you, Mads, so fill me in here. Is that what I need to do? Start fucking around so you fucking get where I’m coming from?”
“Bishop,” I stand to my feet, “you’re being ridiculous. We’re not together. Never have been! You’re the one who said all that ‘no labels’ bullshit at the lake.”
“Didn’t know I had to outline ‘don’t be a slut,’ Madison.”
“I’m not a fucking slut!” I yell. “I haven’t slept with anyone but you, so fuck you!”
Bishop shakes his head. “Nah, you just like making guys think they can fuck you.”
“Fuck—”
“Enough.” Damon walks in, shoving his hands into his pockets, still wearing the pants he wore earlier, which reminds me why I’m actually in this room. I turn back to the closet and flick the light on, pulling Nate’s clothes out and tossing them over my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Nate asks, coming toward me. I fight down the tears that threaten to surface. Truthfully, I had no idea Bishop thought of me in that way. I knew he cared, but not so much that he’s willing to use it as a weapon during an argument. My heart feels like it’s been shanked with a blunt steak knife and then ripped up to my throat.
Swallowing my emotions, I swipe the stray tears that fell off my cheeks. Fucker made me cry, but I probably asked for it. When you fall for the devil, make sure you don’t land facedown with his horns stabbed through your heart. “I’m getting something for Damon to wear.”
I feel Nate crouch down beside me, leaning over my shoulder. “Hey—”
“Leave me alone,” I whisper, grabbing some sweatpants and a plain white shirt. Admittedly, Nate doesn’t have much else aside from assorted ripped jeans and tees.
“No, fuck that. What’s wrong? Bishop?” he whispers.
“Everything, Nate. None of this shit makes any sense to me. I feel like I’m slowly losing my mind.”
Nate chuckles, and I don’t know how, but it takes a little dark smoke out of my feels. “We’ve all lost our mind, baby, but that’s how we all found each other. We’re all lost, but we’re all lost on the same road.”
I look to him; Nate actually making sense. I giggle, sniffling. “There are not a lot of times you’ve made a hell of a lot of sense, Riverside. But you did just then.”
“We’re pirates, baby. It’s what we do. Now get your bad self up, take whatever you want, but make sure that fucker doesn’t ruin any of my clo—For the record,” he interrupts himself, “I still don’t trust him. But I’m going to trust you, on one condition.”
I nod, gripping onto the clothing and internally thanking whoever is listening that he has agreed. I mean, I would have done it anyway, but having Nate agree just means I get to go make something to eat before the sun comes up.
“Our doors are to stay open. He sleeps on the floor, and later today, he is to sit down and tell us all he can.”
I look over Nate’s shoulder at Damon, who is watching Bishop closely. Bishop, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me. I ignore him, looking back to Nate, and nod. “Deal.”
Nate gets to his feet, holding his hand out to me and helping me up. “Grilled cheese? I can hear your stomach from here.”
I exhale, leaning my head on his shoulder, feeling every muscle loosen. “Yes. Fucking God, yes.”
Walking out of the closet, I toss Damon the clothes. “Go and get changed. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
He smiles, taking the clothes and disappearing back into my room. I look at the alarm clock Nate keeps beside his bed, noting the time is 2:00 a.m. Damn, we were really talking that long? When my eyes connect with Bishop’s, I mutter, “I’ve lost my appetite.”
Nate pulls me into him. “Naw, don’t mind him.” He sends Bishop a wink. “He just doesn’t like others playing with his toys.”
“I’m not his toy.”
“I’m right here,” Bishop grunts.
“Really?” I say sarcastically. “Because I don’t see you.”
“Okay, Kitty,” Nate chuckles, tucking me under his arm. “You’re not you when you’re hungry. Let’s go.”