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CHAPTER THIRTY

VALE

“Are you sure Delta’s is safe now?” I worry.

I know I should trust Nash and his brothers, but now I’m all in love and shit and worried I’ll lose it.

Death would be really inconvenient right now. The universe owes me ten thousand orgasms … or more … with Nash before I’m ready for my next life.

“Yes,” he answers, driving north of the city at night. “Jace staged a little break-in that motivated Stacey to accept more guards at the store.”

“Uh!” I yelp, “That’s not right! You can’t deceive Stacey and make her pay for security she doesn’t need.”

Nash raises a brow. “You think Stacey Evans doesn’t need extra security? I know her three husbands are beasts, too, and they’d kill for her. She’s safe in her home, but her store is a target. When she turned her ex-husband into the Feds, she earned a lot of enemies. Evil men who wanted what her husband and Turner the Third sold, and now Turner the Fourth wants her, too.” Pause. “But mostly you. He’d get off on seeking revenge.”

“When you put it that way…”

My stomach twists, getting sick with my vivid imagination.

“You’ll be fine.” He reaches for my leg. “We’ll make sure of it and?—”

“Okay,” I interrupt, still worried, “I trust you and Jace and even asshole Axel to protect me, but please tell me how Alena is safe, too. She doesn’t have a team of Bratva brothers guarding her. You said she had one guard, but that doesn’t sound like enough now.”

He takes the exit to the Naval yard. I know exactly where we’re going, and it’s not Delta’s.

“Alena’s location keeps her safe, too,” he answers. “She may be innocent about me, but she’s wise about the mountains where she lives and works. She knows how to track animals and hunters. She has perfect aim and good instincts. If someone goes after her, she has a secret guard and an obvious advantage.”

I beam. “She is a badass, isn’t she?”

“Just like her best friend.”

“I smell a lie.”

“I’m not lying,” he says. “Just aim your mouth at any man, and he’ll find the nearest cliff.”

“Why don’t you go jump off one?” I snap.

“Already did, poison.” Nash smirks. “I fell for you a long time ago.”

I smile. “You’re forgiven.”

“You’re here.” He parks his Dodge Charger outside a building I know well.

“Aw, the sex club.” I clap. “My favorite.”

“Settle down, Dr. Sex.” He orders, “Your days of exploring are over. You found me, and no one sees what’s mine.” Pause. “Except twice.”

“Twice?” I like this news flash.

For years, I was too focused on having an orgasm with a partner to ever be shy about public sex. I mean, in the club. I figured you should take the orgasmic gift where you can get it.

But after wanting Nash for so long—having sex with him in front of his brothers is so taboo and right up my naughty alley.

Having sex with Jace, too? Just once?

How weird is it to admit I’m not against it? Jace looks like a bad and beautiful man, and he’s been good to me. I trust that for one night, he’d make it okay. He wouldn’t treat me like trash; he’d treat me like a treasure. Nash’s treasure. If anyone can make this work for me and Nash, it’s Jace.

“What do you mean twice ?” I ask again.

“Once as a test. Once for the initiation. Meet with The Queen,” he answers, “and she’ll explain.”

It’s weird entering the club without showing my ID or surrendering my phone. With Nash holding my hand, security lets us in unchecked.

It’s a Saturday night, and the club is full. Scanning the crowd, I smile, realizing tonight’s fetish theme is CFNM—clothed female, naked male.

The soaring cocks everywhere make Nash yank my hand. “Don’t look,” he barks.

“Okay.” I keep my eyes wide open.

He turns around and catches me admiring a long, pierced one. And when I say admiring … I mean drooling and unable to look away, stumbling right into him.

He growls, “Put your tongue back in your mouth.”

“Will you pierce yours for me?”

“My cock?” He sounds appalled.

“No, your tongue.” I bat my lashes. “I promise to keep my mouth shut if yours with a barbell piercing is licking my pussy every day.”

He laughs. “Your pussy is making a promise your mouth can’t keep.”

“Uh!” I stomp. “I can shut up.”

He turns around, still laughing and tugging my hand. “Search ‘impossible’ in the dictionary, and you, shutting up, is the example.”

I want to snark back, but as we reach the end of the long corridor at the back of the club, Nash presses a code into a keypad, and I’m too curious.

A black door unlocks, and he holds it open, ushering me up the stairs. I guess I knew there were multiple levels, given that the building is three stories, but I was too busy searching for my orgasm on the first floor.

But up here? It looks like a parlor in a Russian palace. Jeweled-color velvets. Ornate gold and wooden furniture. The Czarina, The Queen, sitting behind her desk.

Ms. Faye waves us in while she talks on a hand-held radio. “Break his finger,” she orders. “He knew the rules. No touching without asking.”

The man on her radio asks, “Right hand or left?”

“Is he wearing a wedding ring?”

“He has a pale ring line where one should be.”

“Good,” she answers. “Break his wedding finger so his poor wife can know he’s a cheating bastard. Then break two more because he’s an orange shit stain who thinks he can grab a pussy and get away with sexual battery.” She grins. “Not in my world.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers.

She puts her radio down and rushes to hug me. “Vale,” she coos. “What a pleasure to finally meet you. For real, this time.”

I hug her back. “Thank you, Ms. Faye.”

Have I always admired her? Yes. Am I building a shrine to her now? Pour the concrete.

“Honey,” she says. “Call me Nadine, and take a seat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I answer, sitting on the amethyst sofa.

Before he sits, Nash pours three shots of clear liquor—vodka, I assume—and offers one to Nadine and then me.

They raise their glasses silently, so I offer my usual toast: “Here’s to staying positive and testing negative.”

Nash almost spews his shot while Nadine laughs before throwing hers back. I do the same, loving the smooth fire down my throat.

“I always knew you’d fit in,” she says, pausing, “but only if you want to.”

“I want to!” I blurt. “I want to be Nash’s queen.”

She nods. “Has he told you the tradition? How you’ll have the protection of two kings? Him and one of my sons?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You must know…” she says, sitting in a jade velvet chair, looking regal in her fuchsia Chanel suit. “It’s an honor to be a second king and husband. Of course, Nash will be your first and only unless something happens.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I parrot. “I understand.”

“A king can only take a queen if it’s what she wants. She has to want him and her second king.” She lowers her tone. “That was not a choice given to me, but it wound up saving my life and all my sons’ lives. They were destined for violence and young death like I almost experienced had it not been for my second husband.

“Now, the tradition makes sense to me. Now, it’s sacred to us. My sons choose to do it out of honor. That’s how I raised them. They honor their queens. They never hurt them. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

But now I’m wondering who the hero is—or was. Who was her second husband? How did they escape the clutches of an evil, powerful man? And how has he not found her?

I can’t imagine a man that violent and tyrannical not coming after his six sons.

But I dare not ask. Nadine Faye could intimidate the salt out of the ocean.

But I do ask, “What’s my test?” Nash said there was one, followed by the initiation.

She turns to him, chiding, “Is that what you boys call it? A test ?”

He winces like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Sorry, ma’am.”

She tsks before turning to me. “It’s not a test , but of course, men have to turn everything into a competition. It’s a ritual , a way to be sure it’s what all want, particularly the queens.”

She twirls the large, opal sapphire ring on her wedding finger. It looks rare and worth thousands.

“I was inspired to open this club so that I could offer people a life very different than the one I endured,” she explains. “Here, we enforce consent and celebrate pleasure. I told my sons they must do the same. They must make sure their queen knows their bond and tradition and that she gives her consent to join them.”

She flits her hand toward Nash. It’s funny. “They come up with the ritual, the way to do it.” She lifts her chin. “I’m a very proud and sex-positive woman now, but I don’t get involved in their test or the initiation. It’s bad enough one of my sons can’t control himself in my club. No mother wants to see that, and I don’t. I roll my eyes and look away.”

Grant. It has to be him.

Like a protective wingman, Jace would always accompany me and Blair here, but I never saw Jace hook up, not at the club.

Axel? If he were here, I never noticed him. Then again, you can’t miss Axel. He’s a dick, but he’s a very big and smoking-hot one.

So it’s not him, and I know it’s not Nash. I had no idea he was watching me from up here all this time. That breaks my heart and turns me on at the same time.

Damn, these are some complicated feelings.

But I’m sure it’s Grant. Women can’t resist him, and he loves them on their knees. Clearly, they love it, too, because I’ve seen him and his groupies here, sharing him like a lollipop.

Told you. These Bratva brothers are hot.

It makes me brave enough to ask, “Who are your other sons? Nash said there are six, but I’ve only met four.”

“Well,” Nadine answers, “Nash is like my son, too, so in my heart, there are seven. Seven sons.”

She exchanges a look with Nash. It’s weighted. It’s guarded. “Two of my sons, my youngest, stay hidden. Rarely do they reveal themselves, even to the queens.”

Dammit! Just when I thought I was getting answers, I get more questions.

Why would two of her sons have to hide? And who are they?

She reads my mind. “In due time,” she assures, “you’ll know all. But first, you must convince me you truly want to be a queen, and we must agree that Alena cannot know.”

“All this time?” I ask. “You’ve been protecting, Alena? You’re like her grandmother?”

“Yes,” she smiles warmly. “I never had a daughter, and her mother, Lainey, was like mine.”

Nash clears his throat. I glance at him. It’s not out of discomfort, it’s the grief. I realize now how hard it would have been, how lonely, too if Nash had to raise Alena by himself. But as long as I’ve known Alena, Nadine has always been there.

“That’s a story,” she eases, “I’ll let Nash tell you.”

“Good,” I blurt, “because you all have too many secrets.”

I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I love Alena, too.

“I don’t like lying to her,” I tell Nadine. “Yes, we’ll wait until after the wedding to tell her about me and Nash, but Alena can know everything . She’s strong. She’s smart. She can take it.”

Again, Nadine and Nash exchange a look.

“No, she can’t,” Nash insists. “You have to trust us on this.”

I’m about to protest with something snarky, but Nadine asserts, “If you want to be his queen, one of our queens, you must trust us. We keep some secrets because they keep Alena safe.”

Trust is not an easy emotion for me. Too many times, I’ve been hurt or abandoned. Ironically, it was by men, and maybe that’s why I want this so badly.

I want the man I love and the men he trusts to always be there for me, too. To never hurt me as I have been. I want a big family since I never had one. I want to fit in because I never did. I want to be loved for who I am.

With Nash, I always have been. He’s always loved my gothic style, my stacks of books, my odd cheeseburger obsession, and my love for red tulips.

And now? I can have more.

I get Nadine, who’s like a mother because I miss mine dearly. She always liked Nash. I get men like him fighting for something I believe in, too. They’ll honor and protect me. But mostly, I get the one man I’ve always wanted if I’m willing to trust him, too.

The thought makes my lips tingle. They hitch with a soft smile, remembering…

He killed for my kiss.

“Okay,” I say, meeting his brown eyes claiming mine. “I agree. I’ll be his queen.”