Page 71 of Broken Queen

“How does it feel to be on top?” Kylie asked, burying her real question. Finn squeezed her closer to him, a protective arm around her. As if he didn’t want me to get any closer to her. I didn’t let that gesture bother me; instead, I winked.

“Like perfection,” I said. I stroked her shoulder, then turned to the side. “Excuse me. I need to find my king.”

Both couples—the Callens and the Carters—were part of the board now, as well as a few others. I liked it that way. With more of us, there were better ideas to throw around, even if I—and my king—had the deciding vote. Of course, masks were still required at Masquerades—that was a unanimous vote—but initiates no longer had to bring sacrifices. Once they captured a rival, they instead had to participate in the sacrifice of that rival. All of which died horribly fun deaths. It was part of the plan.

Once you streamline your secret society’s rules and regulations, setting up the right people with the right tasks, there’s no reason for your enemies to grow. You just kill them. We’d have to cut off membership invitations, but that would make our Syndicate more exclusive. Or maybe we’d kill random people for fun! I didn’t know, but as long as it wasn’t off-balance, I didn’t care what happened. And that unknown future made it more interesting.

A man in a bull mask came up to my side, snaking a hand around my waist. An onyx band circled his bony ring finger, marking his union with me. A guillotine gleamed in the next room, one that we had plans for later.

“That guillotine is calling us. You ready for the celebration, my queen?” Hazard asked. “One year since you burned this place to the ground.”

One year since I had killed my father. So much had happened in a year, and it had passed quicker than I could blink. Even through all of the bureaucratic nonsense and stagnation, Hazard had stayed by my side.

I wanted to share the world with him. Now, and forever.

“You want to share the show and let people watch us?” I asked, pursing my lips. “I didn’t realize you were such a giver.”

He laughed, then grabbed the back of my hair. Lifting his mask, he pulled me into a deep kiss, forcing his tongue down my throat. I melted against him.

“Of course not,” he said, breaking away from my lips. “I want you all to myself.” He let his mask fall back down over his eyes. “I fucking love you, my psycho queen.”

“And I love you, my mad king.”

THE END