BEEP.
Beep.
Beep.
Pain.
Beep.
Feels like a thousand bricks are weighing down on my head.
Beep.
I try to wiggle my toes, only they don’t move. I don’t think they move. Where am I?
Beep.
I strain to open my eyes, but not sure whether they’re opening.
“No.”
A voice! Whose voice is that?
Beep.
I’m so tired. Like sinking sand, I feel my consciousness slowly detach itself from wherever I am. The beeping sounds distant now.
Beep.
“Did you try to kill her?” is the last distant thing I hear before the depths of nothingness envelop me completely.
My throat throbs, like I’ve swallowed gallons of sand. Moving my head slightly, I groan. My head pounds like a bass line is vibrating directly through my brainwaves. It’s almost too painful to bear. Wiggling my fingers, this time I feel them respond and someone grabs my hand beside me.
“Madison?”
Who is that? Slowly, I open my eyes. Heavy and tired, like glue has set on my eyelashes, but I stubbornly fight it.
“Water,” I urge, still not knowing who that is. There’s a straw pressing against my lips, hitting the cracks. I open my mouth a little, enough to fit the tiny straw in and suck. The water is warm, but it slides down my parched throat perfectly. Moving my head back after drinking all of it, I wince.
“Hurts.”
“I know, babe.”
“Who is this? I can’t see.”
“Open your eyes, babe.”
I fight for it, God knows I do, and when my eyes finally open, my eyebrows pull in. “Tillie?” She looks the same from what I remember, only I’m seeing three of her, and her voice is echoing in and out.
“It’s me, but I can’t stay long.” Her words reverberate, and I can slowly feel the familiar sinking sand slide out from under me.
No!
“Tillie….” I want it to come out excitedly, happy that she’s here, but it comes out more like pain.
“I’m sorry, Madison.” She kisses me somewhere on my head. “I had to make sure you were okay, but I have to go now.”
“Go?” I mutter. “No! You just got here.” I peel my eyes open a little wider, but she’s still blurry. “Please don’t leave.”
“I have to. It’s not safe for me here.”
“Tell me, Tillie,” I croak out. “I can keep secrets. Please.”
“I know you can, Mads. But I can’t. I just can’t. I have to go. I love you.”
“Tillie!” I groan, and as she snatches up her hoodie and heads to the door, she turns over her shoulder to face me. “I’m sorry.” Then she leaves. I rest my head back, ignoring the excruciating pain.
“Madison?” Bishop murmurs, but I can’t see him.
“Bishop?” I gasp, looking around the room for him. I look to the corner and see the outline of his body, the tip of his white sneakers glowing from the moonlight peering in. He’s leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Did you see that?”
He chuckles. “It’s amusing you think I’d let any motherfucker near you. Of course I saw that. I allowed it.”
“Oh,” I murmur, wincing at the pain. I want to ask why he allowed Tillie in, but I sense he won’t tell me anything right now.
“You okay?” He gets up from his chair and walks toward me. He’s in his usual clothes, looking like he always does—perfect. But when he leans down and places a kiss on my head, I see him closer. He has bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days.
“What happened?” I whisper, confused by my choppy memories. “All I remember is… pain.”
I wince again, and he pushes the button on the side of my bed. “Stupid fucking Daemon called the paramedics,” he mutters, almost to himself.
“Daemon?” I go to sit up, but it feels as though someone just launched a knife through my head. “Ahh.” I reach up to rub it, and Bishop shoots toward me.
“Lie down. Don’t try to act like a warrior. We all know you’re tough; now just lie down.”
The nurse walks in, putting her hands into her front pockets. “Hi, Madison, you’re awake.” She pulls out a little flashlight, hooking a stethoscope around her neck. Leaning forward, she smiles at both Bishop and me. “I’m just going to run a quick check before I give you more pain meds.”
“No,” Bishop interrupts. “Give her the meds now. The general practice bullshit you usually do will not fly in this room.”
She goes to argue with Bishop, but then runs her eyes up and down his body, squaring her shoulders. “Very well.”
She moves one of the drips around and turns the nozzle. “This is morphine. You will feel better soon. Can you tell me any other pain you are feeling aside from your head?”
“No,” I murmur. “Just my head. It hurts really bad, almost unbearable, and I like to think I have a high pain threshold.”
She smiles sweetly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Understandable. Your injury is severe.”
“What is it, by the way?”
She looks to Bishop before looking back to me. “You were shot. Please, try to get some rest.”
I was shot? Holy shit! How ironic is it that the one thing I love doing is the one thing that almost ended me… that ended my mom? Feeling tired, I close my eyes.
“Bishop?” she continues quietly.
My sleep can wait. Why does she know Bishop’s name? I act like I’m unfazed anyway, keeping my eyes closed but kicking my hearing up a notch.
“These people have to leave.”
“I know. But they’re not going to.”
People? What is she talking about?
“Well, it doesn’t matter. They can’t be sleeping on mattresses on the floor. Not only is it not sterile, but they’re getting in the way.”
“Jessica, leave.”
“Bishop,” she whispers, and I can almost feel the sadness in her tone.
“Leave!” he snaps at her.
Okay, I sense history there. I put that in the box of “will ask him one day.” Once I hear the door close, I let my tiredness take over and drift into a deep sleep.
The next morning, I wake up almost instantly, and though I feel no better pain-wise, I feel a lot more alert than I did last night. I guess the Tillie thing is going to get ignored until I bring it up—and I will bring it up. I want to know why Bishop let her in. He must trust her to a certain extent. Usually, I would think maybe she has something to blackmail him with in some way, but this is Bishop. No one has anything on him, and if they did, he would just kill them. Problem solved.
“Sis,” Nate murmurs, getting off the mattress on the floor. Now I know what the little nurse was talking about last night. Nate and Tatum had obviously been sleeping out on the floor. Or more, wrapped around each other.
“Hi,” I mutter, sitting up in my bed slightly. Bishop walks through the door, coffees and a bag of donuts in hand, just as Nate stands.
“Sorry, baby, you can’t eat.”
“What do you mean I can’t eat?” I snap, my stomach growling on cue at the donuts he’s holding.
“If they need to do emergency surgery, you have to be prepared, so you can’t eat solids.”
“Oh?” My eyebrow quirks. “Well guess who else isn’t eating.”
“What?” he growls.
“Drop them, Bishop.”
“Fuck no! I’m hungry.”
“Then you should have eaten them before you came back.”
“I’m not dumping them.”
I look at him.
“Fine, fuck. I’ll leave them over here.”
I look back to Nate. “Hi.” He smiles, but his eyes are crinkled around the edges just like Bishop’s. “Have you slept?” I look to Bishop. “Have any of you slept?”
They both shake their heads. Then Nate takes a seat on the bed. “We…. I need to tell you something.”
“Okay?”
He grips my hand, his thumb caressing my palm slightly. “Daemon is currently locked up for questioning.”
“What?” I go to shoot off the bed, but then wince when my head takes the beating.
As I lean back, Nate scolds me. “Do that shit again and I’ll fucking kill you myself.”
I roll my eyes, because only Nate can get away with threatening to kill me right after I almost got killed.
“But he didn’t do anything!”
Nate searches my eyes. “You don’t know that.”
“Fuck you, I know that.”
I see Bishop take a seat on one of the hospital chairs out the corner of my eye. Even from here, I can see how much he wants the donuts.
“Madison, you don’t know Daemon. Yes, I know you guys are twins and I know you have that bond… but he’s a very, very dangerous guy.”
“Not to me.” I look back at Nate. “I’m serious, Nate. He didn’t do shit that day. He told me…. I remember, he told me to get back into the car and that something didn’t feel right.”
Nate doesn’t flinch. Like he already knew I was going to say that. “Exactly, Madison. He knew something was going to happen.”
“What does that mean?” I scoff, my anger reaching the boiling point. “You’re not making sense.”
“Fuck.” Nate clutches his hair.
“Madi!” Tatum screams, launching off the mattress on the floor and diving onto my bed.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Tate!” Bishop jumps off his chair. “Get the fuck off her!” She climbs up my bed.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It’s just—” She bursts into tears, digging her head into my chest and curling up into a ball on top of me.
I pat her softly. “I know.”
She swipes her tears angrily and slaps my arm. “Don’t ever fucking do that again!”
“All right.” Bishop wraps his arm around her waist and picks her up with one arm, removing her from my bed and putting her back down at the end. “Enough of that shit. I’m feeling unstable.”
Tatum evil-eyes Bishop, brushing off her clothes snobbishly. “Don’t you caveman me, Hayes!” Her eyes dart over his shoulder and her face lights up. “Oh!” She claps her hands and dives for the bag of donuts, pulling one out and biting into it. “Yum, donuts.”
I can’t help it; I laugh. Bishop gives me a dirty stare. “What? So she can eat a donut, but I can’t?”
“Exactly.”
He rolls his eyes and comes back up to my bed, sitting on the other side of me. I open my mouth, about to tell Nate to go on about Daemon, when the doors swing open and my dad and Elena walk in.
“Madison!” Elena wipes tears from her cheeks. “Oh, good Lord.” She rushes near my bed and pulls me into a hug. I can hear Bishop growling beside me, the over-the-top male that he is.
“Hi,” I whisper into her hair softly, looking up to my dad. His eyes are bloodshot red, wrinkles more prominent, and his suit looks a few days worn. “Hey, Dad.”
Nate pulls his mother’s arms off me. “All right, let her dad have a turn now. Ya stage five.”
My dad leans down and kisses me on the head, leaving his kiss there for a beat longer. “I’m sorry, baby girl.”
Closing my eyes, I exhale. All the stress and pain, somehow he takes it all away. “It’s not your fault, Dad.”
He steps backward, his eyes searching mine. “You say that, Madison. But—”
I shake my head, and by God, it hurts to do so. “No. It is no one’s fault.”
His face changes, morphing into anger. “Madison,” his voice turns into the firm one he uses whenever I’m in trouble, “you do not know anything about Daemon.”
“How can you say that? He’s your son!”
He opens his mouth and then closes it again. Looking over my shoulder to Bishop, he then looks back to me. “What do you want me to do?”
I smile. “Thank you. Get him the best lawyer. He will need it.”
“I don’t think this is—” Nate starts, but I cut him off.
“Shut up, Nate!” I look at Bishop. “Are you going to fight me on this too?”
He looks at me and then looks at my dad. “No. I got you, babe.”
Those words. So simple, but meaning so much to me. My shoulders drop, and my heart slows for the first time since I’ve been here. “Thank you.”
“I’ll call around. I know one in New York. He’s the best defense attorney in the state.”
“Okay.” I smile at my dad. “Thank you for doing this.”
“For the record”—he looks at me, his eyebrows pulling in—“I’m not happy about it. There’s a lot you have to learn. But I will respect your wishes enough to grant this for you. But if I find out that Daemon and his….” Dad pauses, then looks back at Bishop. “Never mind. Just—I’m doing this for you. No one else.”
I nod. “Thanks, Dad.”
“We better go. When can she come home?” he asks Bishop, and I don’t miss the fact that Bishop takes charge of every situation. Even with my dad, who is decades older than him, it’s still Bishop who runs shit. It’s just Bishop. You don’t get more… alpha? I don’t know whether that’s the right word to use, but he just commands everything. Like he’s the alpha of a wolf pack, but the wolf pack is the human race in general. His tattoo is right; he pretty much is a god, and he doesn’t even try. I don’t know whether I want to kiss him or smack him. His ego doesn’t need more feeding, so I’ll go with a smack, and then kiss. Or a combination of both.
“She can leave today. She’s been here for seven days because her heart skipped a couple beats after the incident. They said it was because of the trauma, her drifting in and out of consciousness was her body’s way of dealing with it. The police want to ask her routine questions, too, and they have to because it’s protocol. I’ll be there the entire time, so no need to worry about that.”
My dad straightens his tie that looks like it hasn’t been knotted for at least a couple of days. “Thank you. I’ll start on this phone call for Daemon, see if we can get the ball rolling faster.”
Backpeddling, I just remember Bishop saying seven days, so when my dad and Elena leave, I turn to face him. “Seven days? I’ve been out for seven days?”
Bishop nods, walking toward Tatum and snatching the bag of donuts out of her hands before tossing them into the bin. “Yeah, but your injury is straight forward. You were grazed by the bullet, not actually shot.” I guess that explains how I’m still alive and my throbbing headache.
Tatum snarls at him, leaning back in her chair. “Okay, so anyway.” She looks to Bishop with her eyes large before smiling back to me. “Do you remember anything from that day, Mads?”
They all stop, Bishop and Nate both focusing in on me. I bite down on my lip, thinking over that afternoon. I remember it all. But do I tell them that? Or should I give them parts? I trust them, I do, but like Bishop and Nate have both said in the past, knowledge is power and secrets are weapons. Especially in this fucked up world.
I shrug her question off, picking at the old hospital blanket on my bed. “I mean, I remember some, not all. There’s like, blank spots.” I instantly feel awful for lying, but when I look at both her and Nate, I see they buy it. Until my eyes connect with Bishop, and instead of buying my lies, he sees straight through them. The slant in his evil glare gives that away.
Fuck.
Fuck Bishop and his ability to read people. Is there anything this fucker isn’t good at? Because I’ve got nothing. I think I need to find what it is Bishop sucks at so I can attack it. Just for shits and giggles, and also because I know it’ll drive him crazy. And I sort of like him when he’s mad. That’s a dangerous thing.
“Okay, well that’s okay, right, Nate?” Tate looks to Nate, but he brushes her off, not giving her a second glance. She looks to the floor briefly, gathering her wits again after being shot down so easily. I see it. Right there, I see she’s caught feelings for him.
“Agh,” I moan lightly, annoyed at everything and everyone. “I just want to go home, to my bed, to my shower, to eat food, and watch Netflix in bed all night.” I was meant to say that in my head, but I then realize I said it out loud.
Bishop chuckles. “Done. I’ll go hurry the nurse. You will need to eat something solid before they let you leave though.”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure Bishop runs the shots in this hospital too, so he will probably get you discharged anyway, what with all the pull he has. Must be nice being a king,” Tatum adds sassily, one eyebrow raised to the high heavens. Ah, I see. That’s why she’s being extra salty toward Bishop; she knows, or has picked up on, or is just being Tatum—about something. Bishop is still glaring at her with his lip curled when he walks out the door. Silence doesn’t last long once he’s gone, because Tatum is instantly at my side.
“I saw Bishop with that nurse lady!” she whispers into my ear. Well, it was supposed to be a whisper, only Nate heard her from the other side of the room as he gathers up all his belongings.
“I heard that, and Tate? Leave it the fuck alone.” Nate doesn’t look at her or acknowledge her presence—at all. This would bother Tate, because as much as she keeps to herself at school, and as much as she’s a loner, she’s a loner by choice. Tatum is beautiful—drop-dead stunning. What with her lush blonde hair and rosy cheeks. She looks like a Victoria’s Secret model. It’s her attitude that needs fixing. But who am I to judge? That’s probably why we get along so well.
“Why?” she snaps back at Nate.
He exhales, folding up the blanket and tossing it onto the chair. “Let’s start with, it’s none of your fucking business, and finish with, you’ll just end up pissing off both our best friends.” Nate stops, raising his eyebrows at her in challenge.
She squares up. “How about… your best friend is a piece of shit, because while my best friend, AKA his….” She looks to me, and then looks to Nate, and then looks back to me again. “What are you two anyway?” she whispers.
I shrug. “Not something, but not nothing either.”
Tatum’s face drops. She’s not impressed. “Madi, no, that’s not a good place to be with a guy, because they have no rules and no boundaries. Men are simple creatures. They need lines. Simple lines.”
“Well it works for us right now,” I answer, pushing myself up off my bed. When she doesn’t reply, I look at her. “Honestly, it really works for us right now. Whatever we have, it needs to be built slowly. We’re too explosive. We wouldn’t just blow each other up if this goes wrong; we’d take you all down with us.”
Tatum mulls over what I’ve said and then walks back toward Nate. She spins around. “Okay, fine!”
“But…,” I add.
Nate tosses the pillow on the other side of the room. “I knew it. I fucking knew this was coming.”
“Fuck you,” I snicker at him before looking back to Tatum. “What was it you saw?”
She searches my eyes then looks to Nate, and I brace myself. Brace myself for what everyone does when Nate, Bishop, or Brantley are in the room. It would probably happen if any of the other Kings were in the room too, but I just haven’t been in the position. Tatum tilts her back as laughter erupts from her. Sarcastic laughter, but still laughter. She clutches her stomach, bringing her glare right back to Nate. “Naaw, Natey, I don’t owe you or your pack of wolves shit. My loyalty is to Madison.” She pauses and looks to me. “If I go missing, check their houses first.” Then she slices to Nate. “She is my best friend, so fuck you and fuck Bishop.”
“Fuck me?” Nate grins, and I fight the urge to massage my temples. “Well, you sure did, baby girl. Last night, in fact.”
“Oh, gross, with me in the same room? Really?” I look at Tatum, because I expect more from her, though I really shouldn’t.
She giggles. “My bad.”
Rolling my eyes, I tilt my head up to the ceiling. “You were saying, Tate?” Bracing myself for the worst, while having an internal argument that whatever Bishop does is none of my business, Tatum opens her mouth.
“He had her up against the wall. He was… he….”
I don’t need her to finish. I already know what she’s going to say, and though I hate it, my heart sinks a little, and it’s like sand has been siphoned down my airways every time I swallow. “He fucked her,” I whisper through a clenched throat, swiping at the stray tear that has fallen down my cheek. Why do I care? I have no right to care. We’re not together; we’ve never been official. This is probably why he didn’t want us to go official, because he wanted to be a slut, and sluts don’t like relationships.
But he’s also told me things, things you shouldn’t tell people unless you want them to grow feelings for you. My blood starts to boil a little before I start imagining what they were doing while I was in the hospital bed, what they—
“Madison!” Tatum snaps at me, clicking her fingers. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, girl! You really know how to zone out and get lost in that brain of yours.” She has no idea. “As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me”—she looks at me pointedly—“he had her up against the wall… by her throat.”
I pause, blinking and catching what she’s saying. So what? Bishop chokes me out during sex to the point of blacking out. What’s her point?
She laughs, shaking her head. “No, you stupid cow. As in he was about to kill her.”
Nate stills. “For the record, this is why we don’t tell you anything. Remember this moment when you’re throwing a tantrum about how you don’t know anything.” He tugs on his hoodie, zipping it up. Walking toward me, he presses a kiss to my head, hooking his finger under my chin to tilt my face up to his. “I’ll go get the house ready for you, okay?”
I nod. “Thanks, Nate.”
“Anytime.” He smiles at me softly before glaring at Tatum. “Shut your mouth, Tate. Watch what you say if you like breathing.”
She rolls her eyes and sits on the bed. Once Nate is out of the room, I look toward Tatum. I can see she’s a little upset about the way Nate has been acting all morning. “For the record,” I note, “I totally said you and Nate sleeping together would be a bad idea.”
She opens her mouth, ready to defend herself, when she exhales in defeat. “Girl, you have no idea.”
Actually, I do.
The door opens again, and Bishop walks in with the nurse from earlier scurrying not far behind him. “Usually the doctor would need to discharge you, but he’s left it to me. You will need to eat something and sign paperwork at reception on your way out.” She smiles, but it’s strained, not reaching her eyes. She’s just about to say something when another nurse walks in, pushing a cart full of food.
“Thanks,” I murmur. I hate hospital food, but I can stomach a sandwich. Especially if it gets me out of here.
I take a bite, finishing it in record time before looking back to the nurse. “Thank you.” I nod then gaze to Bishop, who’s staring at me with his jaw clenched. Great. What the hell have I done now?
“Where’d Nate go?” Bishop finally breaks the awkward silence as the nurse starts removing my IV drips.
I wince slightly. “Home to get my room ready or something.”
Bishop smiles and then looks to Tatum. “You didn’t want to go with him?”
Tatum narrows her eyes on him. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because you’re you.”
The drive home was painful. Between Bishop and Tatum both making a fuss over everything, I was almost ready to jump out of a moving vehicle on the freeway and walk home. And if I did, I would have survived, because for the first time ever, Bishop was going 10 mph, not wanting to go over potholes and bumps in the road.
Walking up the stairs, I push open my bedroom door, annoyed at both of them and wanting some space, but when I walk in, I gasp. “What the…?”
Nate sits on a mattress at the foot of my bed and has spread out the entire surface with cheesecakes, gummy bears, and my favorite chocolate, Debauve & Gallais’s Le Livre.
There are sushi rolls lined in a circle platter with soy dipping sauce in the middle. Next to it is a round of tacos, and all the dipping sauces for fries and potato skins.
“Nate!” I smile. If I wasn’t so sore, I’d jump his bones.
“Hey, Kitty.” He grins, and because he’s Nate, he looks all seductive. Or maybe I’m turned on by the food. “You hungry?” He wiggles his eyebrows and flexes his pecs.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, my God.”
“Wow, Riverside, you sure know how to put on a show,” Tatum mutters, walking into the room and grabbing her bag. She looks at me. “I’m going to go home, sleep for a hundred days in my own bed, and not talk to anyone for at least a month. She smiles, walking up to me and pulling me in for a hug. “I’ll text you, okay?”
Nodding, I smile. “You better.” Then she turns and exits, leaving me to deal with both Nate and Bishop.
“Actually,” Nate smiles, getting off the mattress and dusting off his pants, “I didn’t do any of this. Bishop did.” He leans down, stealing a taco and shoving it into his mouth.
“So you just took it? No correcting me or Tatum?” I arch my eyebrow.
He shakes his head, swallowing his food. “She’s fun to play with. That’s all.”
I unzip my hoodie and toss it onto my bed. “Don’t hurt her, Nate.”
“Hey!” He throws his empty hands up. “She knows where I stand. It’s not my fault if she catches feelings. She’s good in bed. That’s all I want.”
“What? And fuck around on her in the meantime?” I ask, reaching up and touching the gauze that’s wrapped around my head.
He watches me and then cusses under his breath. “None of that matters. We aren’t a thing. There’s only one—or maybe two girls who had the power to change that, and one of them was you. Anyway, you feeling okay? You need anything?” He looks to Bishop, who is sprawled out on my bed, shirtless with gray sweatpants on and the rim of his Calvin Klein briefs poking out the top.
I’m screwed.
“I’m sure B will take care of you, right?”
Bishop reaches forward on my bed and grabs the remote, flicking the TV on. “Go to bed, Nate.”
Nate winks at both of us before walking back through to his room. Bishop must push Play on a movie because it cuts through our silence. But it’s not an awkward silence or the kind of silence you feel when you’re in a room with someone you’re uncomfortable with.
“I’m just going to take a shower,” I say to him, walking to my closet to get a pair of sweatpants and a tank top.
He nods, watching as I pass him. Once I’ve gathered everything I need, I flick the light off and start walking back toward the bathroom, only Bishop catches my hand as I pass him, his fingers caressing my palm.
I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “You okay?” He’s not usually touchy-feely, so this is new territory we’re both walking through, but it feels right. He makes my heart race and my blood rush, but it feels right.
Tilting his head, he looks into my eyes then runs his thumb over my knuckles. “Yeah, yeah, I am now. Want me to run you a bath? You don’t want to get that wet.” He points up to my head, and I touch it, remembering the bandage and remembering I got shot—or grazed.
But still, I got shot.
Oh my God.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, obviously noticing my facial expressions. Tilting his head to the other side, his fingers stay laced with mine.
I grin a little. “I’m a bit of a badass. I’ve been shot!”
He chuckles, letting go of my hand and slapping my ass. “Get in the shower.”
I bite down on my lip and quickly rush into the bathroom.
“And lock that fucking door!” Bishop yells, his voice vibrating through the thin walls.
I laugh, shaking my head and unbuttoning my jeans before slipping them off. Scrubbing myself in the shower, I want to stay in for longer than I do but I also really want to be near Bishop right now, so I flick off the faucet and grab the towel, wrapping it around myself. Drying my body, I already feel much better than I did five minutes ago. Slipping on my boy-shorts and my loose gray sweatpants, I toss on my tight black tank and put my towel in the hamper before pulling open my bedroom door. Leaning on the doorframe, I smile at Bishop, who’s biting into one of the sushi rolls.
“Good?”
“Not bad, but I guess it will taste even better to you because you haven’t eaten in so long.” I push off the wall and make my way toward him, taking a seat beside him on the mattress. Grabbing a taco, I dip it into the guacamole and bite into the crispy shell.
“Mmmmm,” I groan, unable to help the pleasure that takes over my body as my taste buds get their first taste of the taco.
Bishop pauses, sushi roll midway to his mouth. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I ask innocently, licking the sauce off my fingers.
He drops the sushi roll back onto the platter. “Madison….”
I roll my eyes. “I won’t do that, but! Only because I’m starving and I actually feel like I’m about to eat every single thing on this platter.”
“Good.” He grins, picking up the sushi roll and popping it back into his mouth.
I chow down my taco, not making a single sound. Reaching for my water bottle, I twist it open, swallowing the cool liquid.
“So tell me, how’d you know all of this was my favorite food?” I ask Bishop, stretching out on the mattress because my stomach feels like it’s about to explode. Looking up at the ceiling, I eventually look toward him when he doesn’t say anything.
“I know all there is to know about you, Madison.” He moves the platter to the other side of the mattress and slides beside me. “Ask me anything.”
“Hmmm.” I bring my finger to my lip, pretending to mull over some questions. “Okay, how about this?”
Bishop raises his eyebrows cockily.
“Where was I born?”
“New York, try harder than that.”
He’s right; that was too easy. “My first pet’s name?”
“Billy and he was a goldfish. You were seven and demanded your mom buy it for you so you’d have a friend, because you were an only child. Furthermore, you used that same excuse for Jasper the Persian cat, Slash—by the way, nice choice of name—the Pomeranian—not a fan of giving such a powerful name to such a tiny dog either—and Jupiter, your parrot.” He tilts his head, egging me to challenge him.
I don’t. I just stare, because what else could I do? Nothing surprises me much in this world now since finding out about the Kings, but it’s still a lot to take in.
“Wow,” I whisper out, rolling onto my stomach. I lean my head on the palm of my head and look up at him. He’s sitting up with his back leaning against the bedframe, but his legs are spread out in front of him.
“You have me at a disadvantage then,” I whisper, locking eyes with him. “I don’t know much about you.”
He snorts, leaning back, his ab muscles tensing as he does it. “Don’t take it to heart. No one knows anything about me.” He closes his eyes and reaches out. “Come here.” Two simple words but so commanding. I don’t fight it. I scoot up the mattress and snuggle into his warm, hard arms. His familiar scent starts to smell more like home and less like Bishop. Running the tip of my nose against his chest, I draw lines across his pec, over the tattoo that is inked into his skin. It’s an eagle, soaring freely. “This is cool.” I yawn.
He grunts. “Yeah, but I bet you could draw something better.”
That makes me smile. “I could.”
My eyes drop heavily, and I can slowly feel myself slipping into sleep.
“Will you draw one for me one day?” he asks in a tired voice. The sexiest sleepy voice I’ve ever heard. I sound like a man when I’m tired, so I clear my throat.
“Yes.”
He squeezes me into him softly, and just like that, I slip into a deep sleep.
Cool air drifts over my legs, goose bumps breaking out over my skin. I reach over blindly to grab the blanket when Bishop tosses and turns. “No!” he yells. I shoot up and look at him. Sweat is dripping over his skin, his arm thrown over his eyes. He starts punching his head. “No! Leave him alone. Leave her alone!”
“Bishop!” I grab onto his arm, wanting to stop his assault on himself. “Bishop? Shhhh….” Lava builds in my throat as tears threaten to surface. What’s he dreaming about?
“Bishop?”
“No! Leave him alone, leave him alone, leave her alone…!”
Rolling over, I straddle his waist, clearing the sweat from his chest. “Hey,” I whisper, leaning into his ear. “It’s me.”
His jaw clenches before he finally opens his eyes and looks straight at me.
“Hey,” I repeat, running my fingers down his cheeks and swiping away the sweat. “You okay?”
He stares at me, unmoving. It starts to get awkward, so I swing my leg off him but he clenches down on my thigh. I look back at him. “Bi—”
His fist comes to my hair and he wraps it around, pulling my face down to meet his.
“Well,” I mutter under my breath. “Good thing my graze in on my temple.”
I don’t say another word. I go with it. Something has happened, something inside his head, so I’ll do what I can to help. Kissing me, his tongue slips between my lips. I open my mouth wider, giving him more access. Gripping onto my thighs, he flips me onto my back and spreads my legs wide with his, pinning my arms above my head.
His eyes skim over the side of my head. “Are you good to go?” I know what he’s asking. He’s asking if I’m ready to fuck—fuck Bishop style.
“Yes,” I answer truthfully, because I am. Aside from a little headache, nothing else hurts, and if it does, whatever, I’ll pay for it in the morning, and I’m sure it’ll be worth it.
“Fuck,” he growls, his voice unrecognizable.
Looking over his face, his eyes slam closed as he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth. “Yes, Bishop,” I repeat softly. “I promise—no limits. I can take it. I can handle it.” I’ll probably regret that,
I reach out to swipe the bead of sweat that’s about to drip off his chin, but he hits my hand away. “Don’t.”
“What?” I murmur.
“Not now.”
He pins my hands above my head, his palms gliding up my thighs until he gets to the waistband of my sweatpants then tugs them off. His fingertips glide over the lining of my underwear before slipping underneath to press inside me.
“Get up.”
“What?” I whisper, confused. He gets to his knees just as “Escalate” by Tsar B starts blasting from Nate’s room. The song has a heavy bass line, and it sounds so clear that it’s as if it’s playing in here.
Bishop pulls down his jeans, getting to his feet at the side of the bed and tossing off his boxer briefs. I stare down at his cock and watch as he slowly pumps it, his eyes locked on mine. Grinning, he nudges his head. “Get up, baby.”
Crawling, I tilt my head. “But why?”
“Because you’re going to do what I say.”
“Bu—”
His hand flies up to my neck, and he instantly squeezes, tugging my head up to look at him. His shoulders are square, his stance stiff, strong, and thick like always. This is Bishop, and always will be Bishop. He’s alpha out there; he has to be because of who he is. But in the bedroom, his alpha tendencies have no bounds. The song must be on repeat because it plays again.
I close my eyes, nodding. “What do you want me to do?”
His grip loosens and he steps backward, grabbing his pack of cigarettes off the chest of drawers, the moonlight sneaking through the cracks of my patio door, outlining him perfectly. His face, his profile, that body, that… dick. He’s perfection wrapped in a case of C4. He puts a cigarette between his lips, flicks his Zippo, and looks at me after lighting it, a grin on his face. Sucking on his cigarette, he tilts his head back to blow out the smoke, his neck straining at the movement. I look down at his hand, still holding his dick, slowly pumping it, and my mouth waters. Holy shit. I’ve never seen something so erotic in my life. Sweat beads on my flesh as my clit throbs between my thighs. I want him.
Fuck. I want him. The way my nipples feel, as though they’re getting whisked with the breeze, and the way my hips start rolling to the rhythm of his pumping, tells him how badly. He chuckles, leaving the cigarette between his lips, and walks toward me. His legs hit the side of the bed, and he takes the smoke out of his mouth.
I look up at him, my hands running up his muscular thighs. Pulling in my bottom lip, I run my tongue over it and reach for his cock.
Blowing out a cloud of smoke, he looks down at me, our eyes entranced in each other. Locked in a cell that’s sealed with lust. “Suck.” His lip curls slightly, the grin still on his face and his smoke between his thumb and pointer finger.
I look down to the tip of him, licking my lips again, and lean forward, wrapping my mouth around him securely. His precum hits the back of my throat, and I moan slightly, my tongue dancing up his long length. He grips onto my hair, piling it all on the top of my head then tugs on it, yanking my head backward. Again, I’m thanking whoever it was that saved me that day for the bullet skimming the side of my temple, and not anywhere near where any hair pulling happens.
I look up at him, my lips wrapped around him while my head bobs. He sucks on the last bit of his smoke, then turns toward the porch door and flicks it out before turning back to me and shoving me onto the bed. “Lay down.”
“Like I have a choice.” I roll my eyes.
He pins my hands above my head, spreading my legs wide open with his, and runs his nose down the side of my neck. “Mmm,” he groans, and it vibrates over my flesh before sinking into my bones. I quiver, goose bumps rolling over my skin. His grin presses against my flesh before I feel his tongue slide down my collarbone then down over my nipple. Pulling it into his mouth, he bites down roughly, and I wince.
“Bishop,” I warn, remembering how rough he can get.
“Not your place to say, Kitty. Remember that.”
“Safe word.”
“And I said fuck your safe word.” As he circles my nipple with his tongue, my eyes close and my hips rise to grind against his, needing more. More friction. Needing him inside of me, filling me until I can barely take the pain of his size.
“How will you know if it’s too far for me?” I ask, circling my pelvis into him. He raises slightly, not letting me gain any more friction or pleasure, and I have to fight just putting my hand down there and taking care of the ache myself.
He continues his travels, leaving a warm trail of goose bumps in his wake. “Guess if you die, that’s a sign.”
My eyes snap open and I lean up on my elbows. “Bishop!”
He peers up at me, hovering just over my pelvic bone, his arms rippling from holding himself up. He grins, his eyes darkening. “I’m just joking.” His tongue comes out and licks over my clit. “I think.” Letting go, I drop onto my back, my hair sprawling out everywhere. He grips onto my thigh and pushes me open wider, while his other arm hooks my thigh over his shoulder. He licks me at a perfect rhythm, never stopping, never changing. Never too fast and never too slow. Just as my stomach clenches and sweat trickles over my abs, I’m grasping onto the edge of sanity, about to fall off into my orgasm, when he stops. Everything turns cold, my entire body dropping to an icy temperature instantly.
“Agh!” I scream, getting onto my elbows. He crawls up my body, licking his lips while his eyes fuck every inch of me.
“Mine.” His hand comes to mine and he flings them over my head again, pinning me down. “Don’t fuck with me, Madison. You’re mine.” He squeezes roughly, rough enough to leave marks on my wrists, and I flinch. He smirks and then releases, flinging me onto my stomach, he rubs my ass cheek softly before whacking it hard, the loud slap breaking through the song I can still hear. Moving my hair to one side, he grabs onto my thigh and hooks it onto his hip before I feel his weight fall over my back and his cock press at my entrance.
I moan at the sudden intrusion, and his other hand comes up to the back of my neck, pressing me into place as he sinks farther and farther into me, pushing every single limit I have. Gripping onto my thigh, the tips of his fingers dig into my flesh as he pulls out of me, thrusting over my G-spot every single time and then launching into me again, my body almost flying forward. His grip on the back of my neck tightens and then loosens as he brings his body back over mine while still gripping my thigh up against his hip. He thrusts into me, circling and rubbing me deep. My pussy clenches around him, clinging on and not letting go. Every extraction, I clench harder. Lost in the way his cock presses against every single inch of my core. Owning me from the inside out.
“Yes,” I moan. “Bishop, fuck me.”
He lets go of my leg, pulls out, flips me over, and picks me up, rolling onto his back. I climb on top of him, slowly dropping my weight over his hard dick. Leaning on his chest, I roll my hips, his cock thrusting inside me as his pelvic bone collides with my clit. I swing my head back, and his hips buckle as he clenches onto mine.
“Come.”
As if on cue, I let go, sweat dripping off both our bodies. I clench around him, throbbing as the orgasm smashes through me and I jerk through the ecstasy.
“Fuck!” His hips slam up, pushing my body up faster and harder, plowing through my orgasm to reach his. He sets me off again, and wave after a wave, another orgasm collides into me, my clit swelling, my nipples cool. Bishop leans up, catches one of my nipples in between his teeth, and bites down on it. It stings, but the sting with the pleasure is too much. His hand comes up to my throat while his other stays on my hip and he lies back down, a touch of blood on the corner of his lip. I don’t have to look to know where that’s from; the stinging of my nipple says enough.
His fingers dig into my hips, his grip around my throat tightening to the point where air is coming in and out slowly, like I’m breathing through a thick cloud of smoke. He pounds into me, his balls slapping against my ass as I try to regain control being on top of him, but there’s no point. He is always in control no matter what, so I let go. Dots dance in my eyes from being choked, my thighs throb from his grip, and now my hips are stinging too. He slams into me harder, and I feel it again, the build-up. My head swings back. I’m exhausted, but I’m not able to stop the pleasure. He’s fucking the life out of me, quite literally, because I can feel myself losing consciousness every now and then, but I notice how he loosens his grip every few seconds too, as if to give me little cracks of air.
I’m just about to hit the tip of my orgasm when he comes, his dick throbbing and pulsing inside of me. He lets go of me instantly, and I ride it out with him slowly. I wanted another, but I know I’m being greedy, and I can already feel how sore I am, not only everywhere where he’s physically hurt me, but down there too. Wincing, I swing my leg and get off, feeling his cum drip down my thigh.
“I get the depo shot,” I say sleepily, dragging my sore and severely fucked self to the bathroom and pulling down a towel to clean myself up. He still hasn’t said anything, so I look at him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he answers through a dry throat. Getting up, he tugs on his boxers and walks toward the little bar fridge I have in the room. Surprisingly, even though I just had rough sex, my head doesn’t feel bad. Or I’m just that sore everywhere else on my body that my pain threshold has sort of tilted this way.
Bishop gets a bottle of water and twists off the cap, taking a drink while looking at me.
“Wanna talk about it?” I ask, throwing the towel into a hamper and going back to bed. Fuck the rumpled blankets; I can’t even be bothered remaking my bed, so I just slip under, sliding onto the side I sleep on. When Bishop doesn’t answer, I look over to the little alarm clock that sits on my bedside table. Fucking 5:00 a.m.? Mother fuck.
“It’s 5:00 a.m.!” I yell, honest to God shocked at the time.
“Then we fucked for three hours.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, watching as he slips back into bed with me.
He stretches his arms out, pulling me into him. I don’t know why, but I smile, my heart calming at his touch, his smell, his flesh pressing against mine. All those things are why Bishop is home to me.
He kisses me on my head. “Because the terrors happen at the same time every night.”
“Why?” I whisper, yawning and beginning to feel more and more pain all over my body. I’ll hate to see what I’m going to look like later in the morning.
“Because I’ve done bad things. And those bad things like to remind me every night that I did them.”
I swallow, my eyes heavy even though my interest in this convo is piquing. My body and mind can’t keep up. “Did what?”
“Killed and fucked.”