Page 162 of Wicked Princess (Knight's Ridge Empire 2)

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

Stella

“Idon’t like this,” Seb complains from his spot lazing on the bed as I pack a bag ready for the night.

“It’s going to be fine. You said yourself that Damien and Evan have personally overseen the security. We know everyone on the guest list, and no one else is getting inside the party.”

“I know but—”

“Seb,” I say, cutting him off. “You’re acting like a pussy. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

“I know,” he says, pushing to sit on the edge of the bed. “I just… I can’t do that again.”

“Me either. But it’s not going to come to that. We’re not going to lock ourselves in here and hide from that motherfucker. If we’re lucky, he’ll try and crash and we can catch him, end Halloween by putting a bullet through someone’s skull.”

He stands, walks over to me and wraps his arms around my waist. “Now that sounds like a perfect way to end the day. We will get him,” he assures me for the millionth time.

“I know. But we’re not going to halt our lives in the meantime. I want to see how you Brits celebrate.”

Seb shakes his head, knowing that I’m not going to concede on this before ducking down and capturing my lips.

“Uh-uh,” I say, pulling away. “You’re not going to distract me with sex this time.”

“I’m sure I could.” He drops his face to my neck, sending shivers of desire racing through my body.

“Nope. I need to get over to Calli’s. She’ll be waiting.”

“At least tell me what your costume is.” He pouts.

“I don’t know. Calli has kept it a secret.” It’s something that doesn’t sit quite right with me for fear that she’s going to dress me up like some princess Barbie or something. I shudder at the thought, but I can’t deny that I would quite like to witness her attempt to wrestle Emmie into a sparkly, frilly dress.

“You do know something, don’t you?” Seb growls, assuming my smirk is because I’m lying.

“No, I really don’t. It’ll be a surprise to both of us. You got your fangs ready?”

“All ready to drink your blood, baby.”

Okay, that statement shouldn’t do the things to me that it does.

Fifteen minutes later, Calli is practically dragging me from Seb’s clutches so we can go and get ready for whatever tonight holds. She’s been telling me for days about how awesome their Halloween party is, but until I see it, I’m going to reserve judgment. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that the Brits don’t celebrate the holiday to quite the extremes that the Americans do. I swear I could count on one hand how many pumpkins I’ve seen. It’s just not right.

“Come on, Em’s waiting. I told her she can’t see the costumes until you’re here.”

I follow her through the house and up the stairs as Seb heads in the opposite direction to meet the guys in Nico’s basement.

“Finally. We didn’t think he was going to let you out of his sight,” Emmie says, a bottle of some pink premixed drink in her hand.

“He wasn’t thrilled about it.”

She sighs. “It can’t go as badly as the other night. What’s his issue?”

“I dunno, Friday night was pretty damn awesome.”

“So we heard,” she deadpans.

“Everyone survived. No one got arrested. Don’t see the issue.”

“Only one of us got laid,” she mutters.