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The room is illuminated by the fireplace, which is crackling and erratic, the fire on the verge of death. I can barely make out her form in the enormous bed–the crown bed–but there’s a lump near the middle that I feel no qualms about approaching.

I’m owed this.

My weight on the bed isn’t enough to wake her, but the sudden loss of blankets is. I yank them down and she startles, her entire body lurching as bleary eyes struggle to take in the room. She’s wearing this soft, cream-colored nightie that isn’t leaving a lot up to the imagination.

“It’s me,” I say, voice a touch too gruff.

Her eyes lock on mine. “Wicker?” she rasps, pulling a face. “What are you–”

“Spread your legs,” I command, even though I’m already there, prying her soft thighs apart. She kicks out, heels digging into the soft sheets as she struggles to scurry back, but I grip her ankles and hold her steady.

“Get off me,” she yelps, batting my hands away as I claw at her panties.

“I don’t have time for this!” I snap, some of that anger at Bruce still lingering in the base of my spine as I hold her down. I force her knees apart and pull my cock out, lining it up.

She goes stiff as I thrust, barely entering her before I grunt, cock surging with my sudden release. I look down into her stunned green eyes as it pulses, liquid warmth spreading through my body. It’s not a great orgasm. Actually, it’s kind of fucking terrible, nothing but the tip of my dick sunk inside her tense, tight, barely-moist cunt.

That’s not even the worst part.

The worst part is the way she’s looking up at me with such unbridled disgust that I feel it in the pit of my stomach. The fuckinggall. I’ve fucked a lot of people over the last nine years, and none of them have ever looked at me after with anything but awe and satisfaction.

Right now, she looks like she wants to murder me.

I begin, “I had to–”

But her low, venomous voice cuts me. “Every time you do this, I’m going to go out of my way to get it out.” Her green bottle-glass eyes ping between mine, simmering with rage. “The thought of your baby being inside of me makes me want to vomit.”

I flinch away before she kicks me, but only just. “There was only a couple minutes left before midnight,” I say, tucking my dick away with curt movements. “Don’t be such a drama queen.”

“Get out,” she growls, yanking the blankets over her chest. “Get out!”

“Jesus,” I grunt when her fist connects with my jaw. If it were still my day, I’d pin her down and go again. I’d make her wet for this one–slick and desperate, until she’s begging for my dick. I’d tell her about how she’s mine to do with as I please, and I’d make her repeat it back to me until she’s hoarse.

Instead, I stalk out of the room, not even sure where I’m heading until I reach Lex’s door. With heavy, tired limbs, I punch the key code in and unlatch it, slipping inside.

Lex is still awake, his phone casting a pale glow over his features as he frowns at me from the bed. “Wick?”

“Damn it, Wicker,” Effie says in a nearly perfect imitation of Lex’s voice.

Fuck, it’s creepy when she does that.

“Yeah,” I say, noticing that Pace is here, too. Effie’s cage is on Lex’s dresser, her little black form perched on a hammock. We do that sometimes, taking turns watching over Lex as he sleeps, making sure he stays put. Tonight, it’s probably less about that, and more about what we learned down in the dungeon a few hours ago.

The information about his motherpossiblybeing a Princess is big. Not that I’m buying anything that fuckwit says. If he was looking for a target though, he hit the right one. Lex and I both know our family history, but Pace has never had any information about his birth parents or where he came from. If this is true, that he’s somehow tied to the Royalty? That’s a lot to absorb.

“Let me in.” Despite the request, I climb into the bed and start rudely nudging my way in between them before either of them can readjust.

Pace, who’s barely half-awake, lets out a sharp, “Fuck, Wicker, watch the balls!”

Effie goes off, “Damn it, Wicker.Goddamn it, Wicker.”

“Shove over, Jolly Brown Giant.” It takes a few seconds, but I finally manage to wedge my way in between them, just like old times. Lex gives this little annoyed sigh, probably because he thinks I’m here to watch over him.

“I had a wet dream,” I explain, watching the color drain from his face when he turns to me.

“Did you–”

I tuck my arm behind my head, assuring, “It’s fine. I got to her in time. But…” I slide him a look, and it’s heavy–full of more concern than I’d like to admit. The fact that I can’t control my own body is problematic, to say the fucking least.