Page 4

I won’t stop until we, the seven kings, my brothers, find our seven queens. Until each queen has a first king—her husband—and a second king, should the first king die while protecting her.
It’s how we escaped my father, Ruslan Kholodov, the head of the Russian Bratva. He forced my mother to take him and then a second king. For years, she endured my father’s abuse and bore him six sons while she fell in love with her second king.
It was her second king, Maksim, who got us out. In my heart, Maksim was my father, and he died protecting us. So, in his honor, and in my mother’s honor, too, we continue the tradition.
We may have escaped the Bratva. We may be hiding in plain sight in the last place my father would think to look for us—in America. In a genteel, Southern tourist town by the sea. We may take risks using the skills we learned from him to seek vengeance for others.
But still.
We live looking over our shoulders.
We live like a clock is ticking down.
Any day, we can be found.
So, it’s my mandate: I want all kings, all of my brothers, to claim their queens. That includes Nash. He’s my best friend. He’s the seventh king. He’s not blood, but he’s like our brother, so I insist he claim his queen, too. No matter how forbidden she may be to him.
I want nieces, nephews, and children of my own. I want my mother surrounded by her grandchildren. I want her pain not to have been in vain. She survived for us, so now we fight for her.
We’re loyal to her and each other.
Only once did I betray my brothers. In the worst way, and it haunts me. But I did it for a queen. I’ll do anything for our queens, and I paid the price for my betrayal. I lostmyfirst queen.
So now?
I hunt my next one. I hunt Ruby.
One day, I’ll make her my queen.
And if she fights me on it?
Even better.
Sire turnsdown a narrow street in the French Quarter as dawn crawls up the sky. It’s still dark. Gas lamps flicker, illuminating the dewy cobblestones. Expensive cars choke the curbs cracked by hundred-year-old oak roots, feeding the verdant canopy above.
This is an old town of shadows, secrets, sinners, and saints; I should know.
“Tomorrow night…” Sire stops in front of my gold-spiked iron gate. “Wren wants the kings again. We can’t treat her like a doll. She wants us for her initiation.”
Mindlessly, I take off my glove and pet the cat. “Oh, I’m aware of her demands. Wren called me.”
“But is Nash ready?” Sire asks. “He’s Wren’s second king, and he’d better make it official. I want us bonded. I want her protected and?—”
“Don’t give him shit.” The cat purrs at my touch. “You know why he holds back.”
“For his daughter’s best friend?” Sire smirks. For a pastor, he’s quite the devil. “Yeah, we all know who Nash reallywants, but he owes me and Wren. He needs to put his heart aside and put his dick?—”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t paint me a picture.”
Some of my brothers, like Sire and Grant, get off on sharing queens. Some of us, like Nash, Nick, and I, do not. Loch’s not allowed, and Jace puzzles me. He used to love sharing women with Grant, but lately, he’s abstinent unless it’s a ritual. Regardless, we meet our obligations to our queens, and Nash will meet his.
“We’ll initiate Wren, and then she’s all yours.” I insist, “I want a niece or a nephew in a year. Mom deserves her first grandchild.”
Sire winces. “Yeah, herfirstgrandchild.”
“Alena is ours, but she’s not blood,” I remind him. I remind myself—she’s Nash’s daughter and certainly not mine. “And I fucked up my chance to be first, so now it’s yours.”
More ire twists my brother’s face.