Hexed (Never After, #6)

by Emily McIntire

But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more. HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN, “THE LITTLE MERMAID”

Normally, I’m a poison girl all the way to the end—it’s more artistic, more fun—but the guidelines for this venture were straightforward.

You can’t ever count on a man, but you can always count on the poison that will kill him…or whatever that saying is.

“That’s what my best friend back home calls my little concoctions—potions, like I’m some witch here to steal your soul.”

A bright smile crosses her face, and she turns toward me. It’s the same solution every

time: I offer a new trinket for her to add to her collection of gizmos and gadgets, and she melts.

“You’re a man, honey. I’m afraid there’s nothing special about any of you.”

“Sounds like you haven’t met the right man.” She smiles back, and her eyes dance with mirth. “Sounds like something the wrong man would say.”

That’s the thing about grief, I guess. It steals the air from your lungs just as you’ve finally figured out how to breathe.

“You and your stupid rules. Kissing someone on the lips isn’t going to kill you, V. It’s called intimacy.”

“Watch your mouth,” he says slowly, his New York accent coming through strong, dropping the r and elongating the vowels. “You won’t disrespect yourself to me.”

“You’re right. I want you to pick something because I can tell that memory of you and your mom, it’s a good one. And I want to be a good one, too.” Surprise flickers in my chest like a candle.

A smile breaks across my face unbidden. If it will make you happy. I don’t know if anyone has ever said those words to me. It’s dangerous how much I like the way it feels.

“Well, that’s your first mistake, piccola sirena. Who ever said I was fair?” She inhales sharply, and I straighten, placing my hand in front of her to help her stand.

Every step of putting myself together feels like a puzzle piece clicking into place, but I’m still off my game, and I know it has everything to do with the dark, dangerous, and completely off-limits man downstairs in my restaurant.

The one who belongs to my cousin.

“That bastard!” she suddenly yells, slamming the liquor down until it sloshes out of the top. “What can I do?” I ask. “Go find that puttana your father’s fucking and put a bullet in her head.” She looks to me with big eyes. “Can you do that?” I swallow because we both know I can’t.

“You promise me right now you won’t ever, ever go against your father. He’s dangerous, and he’s your family. You hear me? You don’t step out of line, and you don’t give him any reason to hurt you.” Her words settle in my gut like a boulder. “Promise me,” she repeats, her words slurring again. “Okay, Ma. I promise.”

Because fuck her if she thinks I’ll allow her to disappear with another man on her arm when she came here with me.

“Do you always let the people you love off the hook so easily for treating you like shit?” It’s really a rhetorical question, because even in the short time I’ve known her, I can tell

she does. Everyone in her life treats her as an afterthought.

“He used to hate it when I’d cry. He’d leave the room and drag in Momma, and then he’d beat her in front of me until she was black and blue. He wouldn’t let up until I stopped crying.” She glances at me. “It’s amazing how fast you learn to shutter emotions when you’re protecting someone you love.”

“I know there are many people who claim to be ‘family’ who have had their eye on something so precious. But they don’t deserve it. It’s tradition, after all.” She turns to her father and grasps his hand before speaking into the microphone again. “It belongs with a real Kingston. Even if I won’t technically carry the name for long.”

Uncle T watches me from the stage, knowingly, and I can feel the moment the last little strings of my loyalty shrivel and wither away until nothing but betrayal and hate sit in their place, heavy and dark.

My entire life has been focused on one thing. Making my uncle happy. But that trident painting, as silly as it may be, was my last connection to my momma, and while she may not have been a great one, she was still mine.

If there’s one thing a man will do, it’s disappoint you. And I shouldn’t have thought my uncle would be the exception.

And after all these weeks, all these hours of torment holding myself back and trying like hell to be a good person, to not disappoint Uncle T by betraying Aria…I can’t find a single solitary fuck to give now. So I follow him out of the room. Because maybe it’s time I truly put myself first and go after the things that I want. Starting with my cousin’s fiancé.

“In a different life, it would be you on my arm, and you I’d get to marry. And I’d take you home and fuck you in our bed, sinking my cock so deep inside you that you’d never get me out.”

“In a different life…” I pause, emotion suddenly clogging my throat. “I’d love you out loud.”

She’s a vision. She’s everything. But she’s still not fucking mine.

And then there’s a click, and the door bursts open behind us, and the moment is smashed into a thousand different pieces. Because her uncle just walked into the room.

won’t lie, this hurts. Having Uncle T stare at me like I’m a stranger. Like I’m the biggest disappointment he’s ever seen. It sears into me like a serrated knife, jagged and cold, but I don’t know this version of him, this untrustworthy, secretive man who keeps me locked out and lies to my face.

Guilt sits heavy in my middle because I haven’t exactly told Fisher the whole story. I want to, but…there’s just something whispering in my head, telling me to keep Enzo close to my chest for now.

“I’m tired of being someone’s burden and not someone’s choice.”

I place the seashell around my neck. It’s cold against my skin, and heavy, and every time I take a step, I feel it pressing on my chest, reminding me that at least once, there was someone who made me feel loved out loud. And I’ll accept nothing less again. Suddenly, the answer to Fisher’s question becomes so clear. I am coming back. And I’m going to take everything from my uncle the same way he’s taken everything from me.

But first, I’m going to tell Enzo the truth about everything.

“Control is quiet. It’s masterful. It doesn’t need to make a show or take up space because it is the space, and it allows everyone to exist within it. If you think Trent fucking Kingston can

take control from you, then you

never had it to beg...

“Tell me why you won’t let me kiss you.” She hesitates, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “I’m afraid I’ll be bad at it.” I scoff, my fingers tightening in her hair. “Impossible.” “I’ve never done it before. I…”

I brush my nose against hers again. “I’m going to kiss you. And I promise it will be the best one of my life.” “How do you know?” My thumb slips along her lower lip, my eyes following the movement. “Because it’s with you.”

And then I capture her lips with mine.

Leaning down, I press sloppy kisses to her throat. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours too,” I say, giving her one more nip on the neck. She groans, her eyes rolling back and legs shaking around my hips.

“Venesa…” He pauses, and I brace myself for his answer. “He didn’t just kill your momma. He stole the Kingston empire out from under her entirely.”

My stomach is rolling, trying to see where he’s taking this. I don’t know much about my father’s state of mind, but I know when he’s lying. And he’s been lying straight to my face this entire time.

I’m definitely considering firing Jessica, even though she’s been with me since I took over and my pops brought her in. She’s decent at her job, but she flirts, and over the years, the skirts have gotten shorter and the buttons have gotten more undone, no matter how many times I tell her I don’t dip my dick into the company ink.

“Anything you want, piccola sirena, and it’s yours.” I press another kiss to her hand. “Want me to burn his kingdom to the ground?” “No,” she whispers, her eyes flicking up to lock on mine. “I want to burn him to the ground and take his kingdom for myself.”

Anticipation lights up my insides, and I cup her cheek, ghosting my thumb across the planes of her face. “Then let’s make you queen of the ashes.”

I’ve never been someone’s choice before, not like this, and the feeling is intoxicating, but it also makes me terrified of it slipping away, and I know after I tell him what I need to…I’ll lose it. Lose him.