Page 8 of Envy

A humorless laugh huffs from my lips as I back up, my spine pressing against the wall. There’s no savior, because I’m no princess.

I could sprint up the stairs, maybe even make it to my room before they reach me.

The black gloves of the man with emerald eyes flex, his fingers curling as if anticipating a chase. His lips twitch, the tense set of his shoulders and slightly bent position of his knees making him look like he’s preparing to hunt me down—like the little fox he’d called me.

I’m messed up in a lot of ways, but I’m no coward.

Lifting my chin, I stare into the dilated blackness of his eyes, pouring every drop of hatred buzzing through my body into a lethal look—and welcome death.

5

SILAS

School starts tomorrow, far too late in the summer for most students to still be looking for housing. So when I heard about Evie’s application, I was curious. Surely, she was someone as diabolical as us. Someone who thrived in the shadows, who knew the only thing that mattered in this life was power. I hoped Evie would fit right in, but nothing could’ve been further from my expectations than the disheveled, sweaty girl rambling to herself.

“Do you always talk to yourself?” I ask, flinching at the scream that rips from her. Holy hells, she sounds like a cross between a pterodactyl and a hyena on death’s doorstep. Thank fuck I still have my helmet on to muffle most of it.

I step forward to introduce myself, but the banshee slips. Cursing under my breath, I rush to the foot of the stairs, but Evie springs up, looking like she’s ready to skin me alive.

“Don’t get any ideas, little fox,” I say, tossing my helmet aside as I block her exit. Large brown eyes stare up at me, her pupils dilating as she takes in the dark sweep of my hair, the angry gleam in my eyes. I wait for the fear to return, but it seems to be held off by somethingsweeter.

The scent of desire tints the air, and I allow myself a moment to appreciate the masterpiece in front of me. Thick hips fill out the bunched fabric, the muscles in her thighs tensing, her knees slightly bent as if she thinks she can out run me.

God, she’s beautiful. Sweaty from moving, faced flushed with fear and excitement and the urge to put distance between the predator in front of her. And I know she’s seconds away from risking an escape. If she’d just calm the fuck down and let me explain—but then my brothers file in behind me.

“You left the door unlocked,” I growl, disapproval dripping from every word. I take her in—scattered boxes at her feet, hands trembling—and I see the moment she changes. Fear sharpens into determination, her spine stiffening as if we’d hurt her.Maybe there’s more fight in her than I thought.

“Any threat could’ve walked in,” I rumble.

Luckily for her, I’m the scariest monster in this city—but the sheer thoughtlessness is astounding. Her big doe eyes narrow even as the pulse in the curve of her neck flutters rapidly. I inhale her fear, drawing it deep into my lungs. It’s raw and sweet, so like the naïve little fox before me.

Her white top molds to her skin, framing full breasts and the gleam of a silver cross between them. I bet she tastes like sugar with a hint of salt. Pure and clean—a sanguine dessert far too sweet for my appetite. The things I do to women, the kinky fuckery I’m into, isn’t for a novice. And this girl has “virgin” written all over her.

As if hearing my thoughts, her nipples harden beneath the thin fabric. A few wayward curls slip free from the bun atop her head to frame her heart-shaped face. My eyes dip to her full bottom lip, then trace the length of her neck as she swallows.

She’d look so fucking pretty with my fingers wrapped around her throat, the brands inked into my skin forming a necklace just for her. Her eyes would widen, surprise andsomething darker staring up at me as I squeezed, just enough to leave her trembling.

Stop it, Silas.She’s a fucking virgin. A bible-reading, never stays up past her bedtime, good little girl.

“Uh, are we interrupting something?” Erik asks, his cocky tone telling me there’s an arrogant smirk stretching across the bastard’s face.

“No,” I reply, lifting a brow at the firm press of Evie’s lips. The edge of her knotted skirt slips higher up her thighs as she bends her knees, hands balling into fists. She’s going to run.

My lips twitch in time with my cock, and I fight the urge to groan. The only thing I like more than owning the women I fuck is the chase. And no, I don’t mean that in a she’s-playing-hard-to-get sort of way. I mean the physical act of setting a woman loose and hunting her down like the fucking monster I am.

There are places you can go, people you meet in my line of work, where nothing is off-limits. The princes and I ensure everything is consensual, of course. The women and men participating know what they’re getting into, but it’s been years since I’ve indulged in anything beyond a casual fuck. And even those have felt empty.

“You’re not leaving, little fox,” I say, stepping toward the door.

I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be stopping her or coming up with stupid little nicknames. Or picturing the way she’d look with tears streaming down her cheeks as I fucked her pretty lips. But seeing my little fox preparing to fight back when so many others would’ve already bowed—it’s like a shot of adrenaline jumpstarting the corpse I’ve been inhabiting. A burst of color in my otherwise grey world.

The painting flickers to life in my mind, and I can see the streaks of reds and browns slashing across brilliant greens, illuminating the murky haze that’s consumed me.

It’s almost enough to have me stepping back, my brothers be damned. Just so I can hunt her down. Evie would run for her life, her panic lingering in the air like a tantalizing trail for me to follow. A cat chasing a mouse, intent on devouring it. And when I caught her…fuck, the things I could do to that body. The supple curve of her hips, the swell of her ass—the way she would tremble with pain and pleasure as I broke her.

No, no, no. Bad Silas.What I should be doing is apologizing for being such an asshole, helping her get settled, and then never thinking of her again. She’s scared of you. She’s wearing a cross, for fuck’s sake.

I don’t know how anyone can believe in God with all the shit happening in the world. But then Evie takes a deep breath, the cross shifting as her chest rises. And now I’m think about her breasts again, the way I’d nip and suck her needy little nipples while my fingers trailed down…