My stomach clenches, goosebumps breaking out over my skin.
His hand travels up my stomach and near my throat. “Turn around, Tillie…” I hear more footsteps. Coming closer and closer. The echoing of heavy boots now a loud pulse behind me.
Then the sound stops. I turn in the man’s grip, my eyes closed.
“Open. Your. Eyes.”
I do as commanded, starting with his hands. Tattoos fill his hands that sneak out from the bottom of his sleeves.
Tattoos I recognize.
The words E L I T E stamped over his fingers on his left hand, and K I N G S over his right.
Fuck.
My eyes go up. I stop breathing. “Nate!” Just as his hand curls around the rim of his hoodie. He shoves it down to rest on the back of his neck. A smirk crawls onto his face, his eyes dark and deadly. This isn’t good.
I turn to face whoever it was that just walked in, finding Bishop, Brantley, Eli, and Hunter, standing guard. “What the fuck is going on?”
Nate’s hand comes to mine and he clenches it enough to cut off the blood circulation there. He yanks me into his chest, wrapping my hair around his wrist. “Perdita is King territory, now.” Then he smirks, his hand coming to my throat. “Everything that you went through to get to this point, Tillie, was planned and orchestrated. You are the last living Stuprum now—but you won’t be for long.” I notice he doesn’t flinch when the words pass his lips. “You are now a queen without a kingdom. A fucking dog without a home.” His eyes search mine, and I know he’s gone. Any part of who I knew as Nate is no longer living in the depths of this man standing in front of me. He is a mere shell of who he was before, a shell constructed of stone.
He shoves me backward until I slam against a cold brick wall. “I hope you like shackles, baby, because you’re our prisoner now.” He steps up to me, licks his lip and grins. He spins me back around to face the cell, the one with the rattle inside. “Open your eyes, mea principessa…”
I do, I open them.
“Look closely,” he whispers, his lips behind my earlobe. “Watch the fireflies…”
As the words leave his mouth, my eyebrows cross in confusion. Bright little fireflies float in the darkest corner of the cell.
“Show yourself!” Nate demands, his chest vibrating against my back.
The Kings part to give me more view. A figure crawls forward, out of the darkness in the cell, knocking the baby rattle out of the way.
My legs give away and I try to launch forward as a scream roars out of me.
“Daemon!”
My husband. Who tolerates my bratty, princess, needy, always hungry, nap-taking, love-needy ass. You deserve so much more than I can give you, but you’re shit out of luck because it’s me that you get and if you stray, thanks to this book, I now know how to completely dismember the two round things that hang between your legs.
My children, who drive me so crazy that I crave the dark places inside my head just to create chaos that doesn’t directly impact me. Cheers, my little monsters. You’re stuck with me.
Chantal Fernando. The friend that just keeps friending. I don’t know where I’d be without you. Probably saying completely inappropriate things online and pissing everyone off. Thank you for being you. You’re also stuck with me. Please refer to husband’s passage a couple paragraphs up…
Sarah Grim Sentz. My little Grim Reaper. The day you read your way into my life was one of the greatest days in my writing life. You’re my beta, my alpha, and the girl I trust 100% with my words, my world, and my characters. Thank you for always putting my ass in place when it needs to be and for being there through not just my writing, but through everyday shit too. You have become one of my best friends and my go-to woman. Thank you for being patient with your beta notes and for loving my stories like they are your own. Also refer to husband’s passage a few paragraphs up. You’re stuck with me.
Ellie McLove. I don’t know, man. I feel like if I explained every single thing that I loved about you, I’d be here all day. I partly want to, just to make you uncomfortable, but I won’t. You’re the real MVP here. You take my words and polish them respectively without meddling with my author voice. You are everything that we need. I’m annoyed it took me so long to find you, but whatever, because now, yup, you guessed it—You’re stuck with me.
Petra Gleason. Thank you for proofing my words. For your friendship, and the laughs. My darkness would like to drink with your darkness. You’re stuck with me.
Isis, Nichole, Lyla, Caro, Amiria, Jacq, Nikita. My little circle of home-people. My BFFs who know my crazy and tolerate me anyway. You’re all stuck with me. Obviously.
Leigh Shen. For being my favorite asshole. You’re as sexy as you are talented. That’s just not fair. Asshole. Thank you for being you. For becoming one of my closest friends who I trust in this industry. You’re stuck with me.
Anne Malcom. My best friend. You are so much more than you realize. You deserve the world, even if I have to give it to you myself, I will. But you’re a queen and handle your shit, so go chase the damn thing, and guess what, I’ll be right beside you, because why?
Because you’re stuck with me.
The bloggers who read and promote me. Your support and the time you put into reading and reviewing will never
