Page 20 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

It crosses my mind to ignore them, but I couldn’t if I tried. Their presence is so amplified here in this house that I’m used to being in on my own.

Killian regards my vintage record collection with no expression on his face.

Nico wanders upstairs to pick out the room he wants and probably to assign rooms to the other two based on some criteria only he knows.

Atlas opens the fridge and the cabinets in the kitchen, and there’s no misreading the look of disdain on his face as he sees how bare my kitchen is.

Part of me wants to defend myself, to point out that I’ve been fucking busy for a year, trying to keep Enigma afloat in my father’s absence, trying to mourn and keep my shit together all at the same time.

But I don’t owe him anything. I don’t owe any of them anything.

So I keep to myself, staying out of their way. I sit in the living room, trying to focus on the work I need to take care of. I read reports from my people and make lists of things that still need to be done.

Even with all this other bullshit going on, I’m still the leader of a gang. People are still relying on me.

Maybe the three men can sense that I don’t want to be bothered, or maybe they’re just busy unpacking and settling in. Whatever the reason, they don’t bother me for the rest of the evening, and eventually, they disappear upstairs to their rooms.

I wait for a few more minutes, listening to the sounds of the floor creaking and water clanging in the pipes before I head upstairs myself, exhausted and ready for bed.

I hurry through brushing my teeth and then slip into my room, closing and locking the door. My head feels heavy, and I can feel the weight of the day dragging on me, but when I get in bed, sleep doesn’t come.

I’m too agitated, too aware of the fact that my house doesn’t quite feel like mine anymore. There are three men sleeping just down the hall, three dangerous men that I don’t trust much more than my worst enemies, and I can’t seem to get that thought out of my mind.

I toss and turn, punching my pillow, trying to get comfortable, but it’s no fucking use.

The night seems very loud. Like every cricket outside is screaming, and every brush of branches against the window is ten times more grating than usual.

Eventually, I can’t take it anymore. The restlessness feels like a parade of ants under my skin, and I throw back the covers and slide out of bed.

I grab the knife that I keep on my beside table and slip out of my room, padding silently down the hall in the shorts and loose-necked t-shirt I went to bed in.

I stop outside the bedroom that Nico chose—the one closest to mine—and quietly wrap my fingers around the doorknob, testing it.

Locked, unsurprisingly.

Doesn’t matter . I made sure I knew where the keys to each room were before the men arrived, and I go up on tiptoes and slide it off the upper edge of the door frame where I stashed it.

It slips into the lock easily, and I turn, moving slowly and carefully to make sure that the click of the lock disengaging isn’t audible.

My heart pounds harder in my chest as I ease the door open and slip inside. I close it soundlessly and then creep closer to his bed, coming to a stop right beside the bed frame. My fingers grip the hilt of the knife hard as I stare down at him.

He’s asleep, shirtless, his fresh tattoo and his older ones barely visible in the dim light and the covers pooled around his waist. He doesn’t stir as I stand there, his head turned slightly to one side, his breathing deep and even.

It’s hard to look away from his face. His features are shadowed in the darkness, but still, there’s something about them that draws me in. Although the hard lines of his face haven’t slackened much with sleep, it’s still the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.

He looks almost… human like this.

I don’t like that thought, don’t like the way it makes me see him more as a fully fleshed out person than just another in a long line of enemies I’ve had in my life.

Pressing my lips together, I move quickly, climbing up on the bed to straddle him and pressing the knife to his throat.

His eyes flash open in an instant, and he moves to defend himself as if it’s an instinctive reaction, one his body will do before his mind is even fully awake.

He reaches for my arm, the one bracing the knife, but I press even harder against his throat, letting him feel the keen edge of it against his skin.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I murmur, keeping my voice soft as a whisper. “I’d hate for my blade to slip.”

Nico goes still, staring up at me in the darkness.

“Trying to kill me already, wife?” he says, and I can feel the vibration of his voice against the knife. “We haven’t even been married a day.”

My jaw clenches at how calm he seems, even with a knife at his throat, and I press the blade a little harder, just to drive the point home that I’m the one in control here.

“If I wanted you dead, you would be,” I say, my voice quiet. “So I’m obviously not here to kill you.”

Nico lifts an eyebrow, staring at me with an enigmatic expression. Any hint of sleep is totally gone from his eyes now.

“Then what’s the reason for the nighttime chat?” One side of his mouth curves upward. “Trying to keep me on my toes, or is this just your idea of foreplay?”

“Fuck you,” I whisper sharply. “I’m here to warn you not to screw me over.

We might be allies in name, but until I have proof that you’ll have my back when it counts, I don’t trust you.

Got it? Husband or not, if you betray me or hurt my people in any way, I’ll slit your throat before your two best friends can stop me. Do you understand?”

His expression doesn’t change, and he doesn’t look away from me for a second. “You know, we could have just had a chat like civilized people. The weapon wasn’t necessary.”

“Well, maybe you’re not the only one who doesn’t have a lot of trust here. Maybe you should have listened to Atlas and slept with a gun under your pillow.”

He smirks. “What makes you think I don’t?” Before I can respond to that, he continues. “And if I wanted to fuck you over, there would be easier ways to do it. Especially now that we’re married and our interests are supposed to be the same.”

I narrow my eyes. “You say that, but you seem to get off on making shit difficult for me. I’m not kidding. Don’t fuck with me. Don’t fuck with my gang.”

The smirk on his shadowed face widens, slow and teasing. “So suspicious. Tell me, have you ever trusted anyone in your life, Quinn?”

The question takes me by surprise, and I answer honestly without even thinking about it. “Only one person. But he’s gone.”

Nico tilts his head back just a little, and I shift the placement of the knife immediately to make sure it stays in contact with his throat.

“You should think about expanding that number. Try trusting someone else for once. There’s a reason I wanted this alliance—not just with anyone, but with you. We could be good together, you know.”

There’s something in his voice as he says the last words that makes me think he’s talking about more than just the strength of our combined organizations.

That he’s talking about us . It makes my mind flicker back to the kiss we shared in the church, the unexpected heat that flared between us.

I can still feel it, like a fire that refuses to go out, sitting low in my belly as I gaze down at my new husband.

What would it feel like if he kissed me again? If we didn’t have to stop this time? What would his skin feel like beneath my hands?

I swallow, pressing the blade harder against his skin as if that will somehow extinguish the fire licking through my veins.

“It’s funny that you’re so convinced we could make a good team,” I tell him in a low voice. “Considering that I could kill you right now.”

One of his eyebrows twitches upward. “I thought you said you didn’t come here to do that.”

“I’m rethinking my stance on it.”

He chuckles. “I have to admit, mia cara, I like your fire.”

I press just hard enough with the knife to draw a drop of blood. “Still like it now?”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes, hungry and dangerous. Instead of dropping off his face, his grin widens. “I like it even more now. But I still don’t believe you’ll kill me, wife. I don’t think that’s what you came here for at all.”

“Yeah?” I cock my head to one side, my lip curling. “What do you think I came here for?”

His voice drops, low and gravelly. “Well, with the way you’re straddling me like this, barely dressed, it seems more like you came to my bedroom to consummate our marriage.”

My breath hitches as my heart kicks against my ribs.

“What makes you think I’d ever want to fuck you?” I ask, hating the rasp in my voice.

His tongue slides along the bottom of his teeth. “The way you kissed me. The way your body melted against mine for just a second before you caught yourself. The way your nipples are hard right now. You like feeling me between your thighs like this, don’t you?”

The knife trembles against his skin as I press my lips together, anger battling with arousal. I’m pissed that he’s noticed this strange, almost electric connection between us too, and I’m even more furious at him for calling it out.

“I hate you,” I hiss.

Heat burns in his eyes. “I hate you too. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is what you do to me.”

He lifts his hips suddenly, and my mouth falls open on a soft gasp. He’s hard, rock hard, his cock a thick line in his pants that I can feel through his clothes and the thin cover on his bed.

It presses right against my clit, taking my breath away, making heat surge through me. The sudden burst of sensation steals my focus, my body shuddering as I try to tamp down the sharp flare of arousal?—

And that’s all the opening Nico needs.

Quick as lightning, he grabs my arm, yanking it and the knife away from his throat.