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Samson laughs and shakes his head. “The more you resist, the more interesting you are to him, little lamb.”
People are still terrified of the Kings, but I’m about to pull a checkmate. Hunter, Ash, Ledger, and Samson are about to witness how this Queen attacks—slow, premeditated, and lethal.
She’s an enigma, and we all seem to want a piece of her.
His words awaken some sort of primal beast inside of me—something fervent and impatient, hot, needy… I lick my lips.
His breath is on my lips, the sweet scent of it turning my core to liquid.
Your body responds to me like a marionette, doing whatever I want it to. Your mind may be fighting it, but your body? It wants me.”
I bend down and tie my sneakers, looking up just as Briar comes onto the track. I stifle a laugh as she glowers at everyone, her expression sour and displeased. My dark, little rain cloud.
I remember the feel of her skin, the way it tasted like honey. The way my initial hatred turned to lust. The primal, feral need to have her.
Seeing her through their eyes is exhilarating, and something savage burns through me when I think about watching her… with them. We used to be the Kings of Ravenwood. I guess I never realized until Briar Monroe showed up that we needed a Queen.
I grip Ash’s forearm tightly as wave upon wave of my climax rips through me, the feeling clawing out from inside and spreading along my limbs in a hot, fiery tempest of pleasure.
“I want you, Briar.” His words are a growl—a confession.
I look up then, breaking the spell. And the expression on his face is that of someone being deprived of a meal after starving. He licks his lips and leans back, spreading his legs.
I can’t miss it. I can’t miss Hunter Ravenwood coming undone at the seams. For me.
He may think he won—he may think the war is over, that this Queen will bow down to him and the others like all the other students do. But it’s only just begun because I bow to no one.
I’m not religious, but she makes me want to kneel before an altar and confess the downright filthy things that run through my mind when I think of her.
She’s my kryptonite, and I knew the instant we met that staying away from her was never going to be an option.
“It’s like you’re a zipper,” he says slowly, running a finger down the middle of my chest, mimicking the movement. “You go your whole life zipped up, and then someone comes along and starts to tug. Inevitably, you’ll be unzipped—and you won’t be prepared for what spills out. That’s how I feel when I’m around you.”
“We each get our share of you,” he muses. “We protect you. Show you that sex can feel good again. Date you, fuck you, worship you…”
“You are ours. Body and soul. Whenever we want you, however we want you.” My throat goes dry. “And you are mine,” I purr.
