Malum: Part 2 (The Elite Kings Club Book 5)

by Amo Jones

being wrapped in Nate’s arms, it does nothing. When I think of my go-to safety line, Daemon. It. Does. Nothing. Nothing because Nate was all I need. It’s a dangerous thing to need someone who does not need you.

“You reached for love. That doesn’t make

you crazy. That makes you human.”

“Until the part that I had to break her open and watch her heart snap in front of my very eyes, over another man, nonetheless.” Brantley stiffens. “Yeah, I see your point.”

I look to my lap. She tilts her head in question. My lip kicks up in a smirk as I nod to my lap again. She gets it, and like a good little girl, she slowly makes her way around the table. Don’t get it twisted, Tillie is not obedient by any means, but I know when she needs me, and right now, she needs me. I push my seat back with my legs, the sound of the stilts scraping against the hardwood floor squeaking through the tension. She sinks into my lap, resting on top of my cock. I fight a groan, my fist coming to my mouth. Brantley kicks my leg from opposite me and I wink at him, blowing a kiss.

Tillie stands up from my lap, but my arm wraps around her waist, holding her to her spot. Her ass in my happy place is the only thing that’s stopping me from losing my shit at her right now.

I release a little as she leans over and grabs it before taking her spot back on my lap. Where the fuck she belongs. This queen doesn’t need a throne, she just needs my dick to sit on.

“I can’t forgive you.” I run my lips over hers. “You don’t have to forgive me to fuck my face, baby. We’ve had this discussion.”

“Then just forget for tonight.” She wraps her arms around the back of my neck. “Just for tonight, and then you’re dropping me back here in the morning.” I nod. “Deal.” Fuck no. “Okay,” she sighs, and I step away so she can jump off the counter. “Just one night.”

“We’re all fucking crazy, Tillie, but it’s who we stay sane for that matters. You need to for you. Love is just an anchor. It can either be the reason you drown or the reason you float. You can’t ride on that to keep you sane.”

“Give me those eyes again and I’ll shove my cock so far down your throat they’ll pop out of your skull.” “Don’t threaten me.”

“On your knees, bound by your cum-drenched panties, and gazing up at the words that own you, because I do, Tillie. This King fucking owns you.”

My heart is pounding from adrenaline, probably the same kind that gets girls killed.

“I always said that I loved breaking you just so I could put you back together exactly how I wanted, maybe pocket a few pieces of you that you’d never get back. Maybe we could try that literally…”

“We promised…” I whisper. “I’ve promised a lot of fucking things in my lifetime, baby. And none of them involve staying away from you.”

Something that tugs at my chest every time his eyes meet mine, or anytime that he’s in the same room as me, or any time that he’s angry at me, or sad with me, or happy with me, or playful with me—fuck. I swallow the rest of my drink. I am completely, utterly, and irrevocably in love with him.

Where does our mind go when we’re sleeping? Pretty sure mine visits hell, judging by the people I see in them.

I don’t know why him saying that hurt so much, maybe because he has never outwardly said no to me when it came to kissing him or fucking him. It stung, and the root of that lethal sting is launched right in my heart. His sting is laced with poison, and no one is smart enough to create an antidote.

I watch as he moves, and in the seconds between the car, or the flight, or I don’t know when, I’ve come to the conclusion that I have forgiven him. Grief can bring out the ugly in some people. Your world shifts, and it takes a part of you with it, and sometimes, you fall between the cracks of where it used to be. I can forgive him, because my love for him is stronger than my pain. But now I think I’m too late.

Losing myself in all that is him. He consumes me more than anything in this world, the feeling is stronger than love. It’s stronger than hate, or pain. He smothers me and owns every single bit of who I am. Something wet, hard, and heavy drops into my palms and I pull away out of instinct, but his hand grabs mine, forcing it back on. I squirm, my lips moving against his.

I suck in a breath and then my eyes drop to my hands. Her bloody heart rests in the palms of my hands, the cardiac valves and tissue still hanging from the organ. My legs start shaking and my stomach churns. “Nate…” “She took ours, so we take hers.” He brings the tip of his knife into the center of it and sinks it down, until blood streams between my fingers. “We done?”

“You can have my kingdom, but you cannot have my King.”

Nate makes me ugly. He brings out my jealousy and leaves it out raw in the open, like a fatal gaping wound. I hate how much power he has over me, but that’s power he doesn’t need to know he possesses.

“It’s not, though. I fell in love with a man who has no heart for me.”

“Baby, that man has everything for you.”

need a bath and two hundred shots of vodka. One for every time Nate has broken my heart.

Hearing her open up to Brantley like that didn’t bother me as such. The tears did a little. But hearing her say that she has had to compete for me, messed with me on a new level. I’ve been fucked a lot, and no pussy has fucked me as hard as Tillie’s words did in that sentence. I feel hollow, and fucking shit.

I wanted to look unstoppable and strong. I figure if I look strong, it will hide the fact that I’m falling apart inside.

She doesn’t know this yet, but I haven’t laid my hands on another girl since Micaela came into our lives. Never fucked Tate, even though I’m pretty sure, judging by her little cute confessions with her Bran Bran, she thinks I did, and fuck other girls often, but the truth is, I don’t see any girls past her. Yeah, so I dabbled in pussy before, and between her when she left the first time, but since she came back, I’ve not. Shit. I haven’t fucked anyone since her. What the fuck.

She’s the kind of wild you can’t tame, but you wouldn’t want to anyway, because her turbulent soul is reckless, desolate and raw. You wouldn’t want her any other way, and if you did, well, fuck what you want.

“I can’t continue to love someone who isn’t manufactured to love back. I can’t fucking compete with other girls when it comes to your affection, and I can’t fucking handle not having all of you!”

“One, you’ve never competed with any fucking girl. It’s always been you and it makes me fucking testy hearing you say shit like that so I would advise that be the last time those words spill out from those lips, or I’ll feel obliged to shove something else between them. Two, there is one person on this earth who gets all of me, Tillie. One fucking girl. And it’s not the dispensable hos that have bounced on my dick. It’s the one that fucking stole my heart, and lastly.”

“I must have malfunctioned along the way somewhere, because I fucking love you.”

“You’re not a woman who can be owned. I knew that a long time ago. You may not belong to me, but you belong with me. And there ain’t shit you can do about it.”

“Hate,” I chuckle. “So much more complicated than its four letters.”

“You make me the fucking happiest man in the world, Tillie.” Then his hand comes down to the front of my belly. “We’re having a baby?”

“Little terror?” Brantley teases once the silence stretches out into awkward territory. “You will be the most protected woman, and that baby will be guarded by Hellhounds, I promise you. I fucking promise you.”