Sicko(17)

Sloane sighs. “Okay. I guess. It’s just we all know he has always had a crush on you.”

I roll my eyes, cradling my phone on my shoulder.

She continues. “Wanna go get loaded fries?”

“Um, I sort of can’t.” I catch my reflection in the mirror, realization once again washing over me.

“Why?”

I hear the deep growl of a loud engine pull down our driveway—is that a fucking motorbike? “Will talk later.” The rumble is low, reverberating around my room like a soft pounding symphony. It’s heavy enough to squash you.

“Jade!” my mom yells out from the kitchen. “Downstairs.”

I quickly shove on my Ugg boots and give myself one more once over before pushing my phone into my back pocket and making my way downstairs. I can see a gathering around the front door as I come down, but I don’t look up until the last minute.

“Sorry I’m—” I pause.

There, standing in front of me, is Royce Kane. My stomach hits the floor and my cheeks flare to life. I can feel my blood drain all the way to the tips of my toes when our eyes connect. My heart slows in my chest. The hate is still there, the anger and pain, but now there’s something else happening. Something I’m not ready to acknowledge yet. His ice-blue eyes. Colder than the Atlantic Ocean, but hotter than the pits of Hell. His dark, unruly hair looks like his hands have brushed through it one too many times, and his big, lean body towers over everyone in the room—including the room itself. He has tattoos all over what skin I can see. Royce Kane doesn’t just look like a bad boy. Royce Kane looks like a bad man. He’s not the spoiled rich boy, playing every girl at school. He’s—different. His sharp jaw is clean-shaven, illustrating every cut line of his perfectly constructed face. His straight nose and soft lips. Shit. Double fucking shit. He’s even fucking hotter than he was when he was young.

He’s in loose faded designer jeans, military boots, and a casual black shirt. But there’s something over his shirt that catches my eye. Well, two things catch my eye actually…

The first thing is the embroidered patch that’s sewn into his left pec.

Wolf Pack Motorcycle Club.

And second, I’m pretty sure Royce Kane hates me.

My eyes burn from not blinking. This time his scowl is matched with a dark smirk that spreads over his swollen lips. “Well, didn’t you grow up…”





I’m not gonna lie, seeing her squirm in my presence is fascinating. She was my fucking world the day her sad little soul entered our house. I mean, I wanted a brother, but Jade wasn’t half as bad as what I thought having a little sister would be like. She hated Barbie dolls and preferred Transformer trucks. Not much else I could complain about, until she grew tits.

“Duchess.” I smirk, throwing out her nickname. I loved the little shit when she was growing up. Now I can’t. I won’t.

She flinches from the use of her nickname, and I also didn’t miss the scan she did over me as soon as she saw me. Then I watched as the blood drained from her face when she read my patches.

“Great!” Mom says, clapping her hands. “Dinner is ready.” She hooks her arm in mine as if I’ve walked back after a weekend away, not four fucking years. “Royce, please tell me you haven’t joined a motorcycle gang…”

I unlatch from her grasp and follow behind as Dad hushes Mom’s rant and Jade falls into step slightly behind me.

When our parents are out of earshot, I turn my head slightly over my shoulder with a smug grin. “What’s the matter, Duchess, didn’t miss me?”

Her eyes meet mine, defiance flashing over them briefly before it’s gone. “Never.”

I chuckle, turning to face her fully. Just before we’re about to turn into the kitchen, I slam my hands against the wall, backing her up against it and caging her in. The tip of my nose glides over her cheek as I inhale her sweet, innocent flesh. She’s like a breath of fresh air after being face down in club girl pussy. Only her air is fucking laced with poison. “You should be scared, Duchess. You’re not safe from me anymore.” My eyes drop down her little body, taking in the soft curves that stretch out over her otherwise delicate stature.

“You two!” Dad calls from the dining room. “What’s taking so long?”

Tense bastard.

I push off the wall, knowing full well no one can see us. Fucking hate my rich-ass parents and their rich-ass house.

“You might be right, Royce.” She squares her shoulders and looks me deep in the eye. “But I’m not the same girl you left behind either.”

“Oh yeah?” I smirk, running my tongue over my bottom lip. “How so?”

“I have teeth now.” She shoves past me.

Before I can grab her little ass and back it up against the wall, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I don’t bother to tell the old man that I’ll be in in a second, because he knows I’ll be in in a second.

“What?”

“Ah,” Fluff mutters. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” There’s shuffling in the background. “Sorry, Sicko, it’s just Lion told me that I can call you about—” Fluff, our new prospect, stammers on the other end of the phone.

I attempt to count to fucking ten, because my old therapist once said it’ll help. The same therapist I used to bend over her desk every month until she was dripping over my cock and calling me daddy, so… maybe she was wrong. Letting me anywhere near your pussy is not something a smart woman would allow. I’d break your heart right after I break your ovaries.