Princes of Carnage (Pretty Ruthless Monsters, #1)

by Eva Ashwood

I can’t trust that you’ll keep those claws in.”

Nico studies my face for a second, like he’s gauging whether or not to believe me. I just stare back at him, ignoring the way he and Atlas are both standing so close that their combined scents are filling my nostrils. I can’t quite tell which scent belongs to which man, but it’s a mixture of something spicy and something woodsy and citrusy.

“We’re done here,” I say coolly. “Unless you’ve got anything else you want to ask me for. Although if you want any more favors, you’ll have to get down on your knees and beg like a good boy.”

“Trying to keep me on my toes, or is this just your idea of foreplay?” “Fuck you,” I whisper sharply. “I’m here to warn you not to screw me over. We might be allies in name, but until I have proof that you’ll have my back when it counts, I don’t trust you. Got it? Husband or not, if you betray me or hurt my people in any way, I’ll slit your throat before your two best friends can stop me. Do you understand?” His expression doesn’t change, and he doesn’t look away from me for a second. “You know, we could have just had a chat like civilized people. The weapon wasn’t necessary.” “Well, maybe you’re not the only one who doesn’t have a lot of trust here. Maybe you should have listened to Atlas and slept with a gun under your pillow.” He smirks. “What makes you think I don’t?” Before I can respond to that, he continues. “And if I wanted to fuck you over, there would be easier ways to do it. Especially now that we’re married and our interests are supposed to be the same.” I narrow my eyes. “You say that, but you seem to get off on making shit difficult for me. I’m not kidding. Don’t fuck with me. Don’t fuck with my gang.” The smirk on his shadowed face widens, slow and teasing. “So suspicious. Tell me, have you ever trusted anyone in your life, Quinn?”

This kiss is like a claim, but also like he can’t get enough.

“Ah!” I cry out, arching as pain flashes up my spine, only to be soothed away by the slow, deliberate roll of pleasure that follows in its wake.

You’re my wife, Quinn. What’s yours is mine, remember? Your orgasm belongs to me, and I fucking want it.”

“Nico!” she gasps, her head tipping back. “Fuck.” A hoarse laugh escapes me. “Oh, don’t worry, mia cara. That part is coming.” I can feel her getting needy and desperate again, just the way I like her. Her pussy is hot, burning with the same arousal I can see all over her face, and I can’t hold out much longer. Not when I want to fuck her this badly.

“Sarà molto interessante essere sposati con te, mia piccola e bellissima nemica.”

“Chemistry. You and Nico. It sounded like he fucked you to within an inch of your life the other night, so there must be some kind of spark between you two.” He moves closer to me, something burning in his eyes. “There must be something. Why else would you fuck your enemy like that? Why else would you scream for him the way you did?” Atlas’s voice is a rough burn,

Kissing my husband—my enemy—is

how many times is the author gonna remind usnits EtL??

“You’re one to talk. I just read it. I didn’t write fanfic about it.” My jaw drops, embarrassment shooting through me. Fuck, is that still on the bookshelf? I wrote it and illustrated it when I was maybe thirteen or fourteen, so enamored with the characters from my favorite noir dystopian graphic novel series that I wanted to add to their story. I tried to throw the fanfic out several years ago, but my dad—ever the proud father—refused to let me, calling it a work of art.

He’s a good fuck, I can’t deny that, and his two friends have somehow managed to get under my skin, but that’s all it is. That’s all it can be.

“You’re not weak, siren,” I tell her. “I’ve watched you for months, and I know how strong you are.”

screaming. the gasp i gasped.

“It’s the hands of everyone who touched you that night,” I tell her simply. “I know it won’t banish the darkness of what happened—nothing can do that. But I thought it might help to know that they’re in an even darker place now.” My tone stays even, but I can tell from the way Quinn leans back in her chair that she gets my meaning.

“What the fuck, Killian?” Nico grimaces. “On the table?” “What?” Atlas comes over and looks into the bag as well, then makes a disgusted face. “I didn’t think I was ever going to have to say that disembodied hands don’t belong in the kitchen, but here we fucking are.” “We eat at this table,” Nico continues. “Who the fuck knows where these hands have been?” “Killian knows,” Atlas says. “Not that that makes it better. I don’t think anything is going to make ‘bag of hands for breakfast’ better.” “Do we need to have a designated place in the house for miscellaneous body parts?” Nico asks. “Is this going to be a thing?” “Please, no. I don’t think I can handle that,” Atlas groans. “I’m all for chopping someone’s hands off if they deserve it, but can we leave them outside?” I’m barely listening to them as they bitch about it, my focus only on Quinn. She looks like she’s trying to process this, and I can’t tell if she’s pleased by the gift or just confused. “Why?” she finally asks, her voice soft. “I did what your father would have done if he had known,” I tell her. “I gave them what they deserved.”