Sicko(44)

Bonnie chuckles. “And me too. I want it.”

“I’m not even surprised,” the darker man says, who looks a lot like Silver. “Really, you’re fucking lucky Swifty isn’t here either, or she’d be grabbing her number too.”

Royce rolls his eyes. “Hurry up.”

Silver ignores his moody behavior as I blabber off my cell number to them both. “Thank you for the whiskey, Bonnie.” Bonnie smiles at me, taking a seat on Lion’s lap. Lion seems to still be studying me, his head tilted to the side. My eyes flick back to the photograph that caught my eye when I first came in, before going back to him.

“Yes, that’s me,” he answers my unspoken question. He notices a lot without saying a lot. Interesting. Scary, a little, but interesting.

My mouth curves sadly. “Your kid is lucky.” Shoving my phone into my back pocket, his next words halt me.

“How do you know that? I could be the worst thing that ever happened to that kid.”

My fingers flex in my hands. “Impossible.”

“How so?” he asks, flashing me a crooked grin.

“Because I know what that looks like, and you don’t have his smile.”

His face falls, but not in an offended way, more shocked. “Excuse me.” I move away from my chair, turning to wave goodbye to Wicked. Royce is already exiting the room, but Wicked? Wicked is glaring at me like he’s just seen a ghost. The room is empty, quiet aside from the music playing through the house. Something is moving inside his brain and I’m not sure I want to know what that is.

I smile at Wicked softly before running to catch up to Royce.

Once we move through the sea of people and hit the front door, I jog down the steps to reach for him. “Where are we going?” I for sure thought he was leaving me here so he could go fuck Bea.

He flinches away from me, staying quiet until we’re far enough away from people and near his bike. “Taking you back to yours. Changed my mind.”

I pause, crossing my arms. “Why the sudden change?” Now that it’s just us with no spectators, it seems anything we both say to each other is real. Raw.

He stops, taking me in from head to toe. “What was that about? What you just said?” His expression turns hard, and even though it’s dark out, the lights from the house offer enough to take in the outline of his face. “Jade.”

Jade. Not Duchess.

“Nothing, just that I know what cruelty looks like and he didn’t seem like that to me.”

“You don’t know a fucking thing about Lion.” His lip curls around his teeth, but I get the feeling the snarl is toward me, not about his feelings of Lion. It’s obvious how much Royce loves Lion. “I’m going to ask you once.”

My blood turns cold as he takes a step closer. Don’t ask me anything, because I will have to lie.

“Has someone hurt you?”

My mouth slams closed, my jaw locked tight. I stay focused on the small patch that’s sewn into his leather that reads Rip. Vice President. Fingers wrap around my chin, his chest to mine as he brings my head up so my eyes come to his.

His eyebrows knit together. “Tell me, Jade.”

I don’t say a word, the syllables sticking to my throat and unwilling to come out.

His thumb swipes at the bottom rim of my lip. “If anyone has hurt you while I’ve been away.” His mouth slams closed and the muscles on either side of his jaw pulse. “I’ll fucking kill them, and that’s not a threat. That’s a goddamn promise.” My legs wobble beneath my weight, my restraint pulling against me. I want to tell him everything.

I open my mouth, but just as words are about to slip out, Bea interrupts. “You’re not staying?” she whines, and I flinch away from Royce, stepping far enough away so they can talk. I find myself near Wicked’s bike. I can’t believe I was going to tell him!

Royce narrows his eyes at me as they fall to the bike I’m near, standing close like it’s a lifeline. “Nah, you’ll be fine for tonight.” He hands me the helmet. I take the steps forward to take it, my fingers gliding over the glossy white paint of Wicked’s Harley.

“But—”

Royce glares at her. “Leave, Bea.”

Bea’s eyes fly between Royce and me, and I see the images flash over her eyes without her even displaying them. We’ve gotten that all our life, people assuming there’s something more to Royce and me than what there is.

“Fine. Call me?”

“Never,” he says bluntly, and then turns back to me and points to his bike. “Get on.” Sighing, I swing my leg over the back and press myself against his back. His bike is loud enough to make you fucking deaf. He rides us out of the gates as they split open, before gunning it down the street and onto the highway. The air whips through the loose strands of my hair, an easy smile on my face. I will never admit it to Royce, but I love riding on the back of his bike.

Thirty minutes later, we’re pulling up to campus, the bike echoing through the empty streets as he comes up to the dorms. He cuts the bike off and pauses as I swing my leg off while removing his helmet. I squeeze the cord in my hand, ready to hand it back to him and leave. The air is quiet, with just him and I standing so close. So intimate.

“I couldn’t bring you with me.” His voice is low, soft. As if he didn’t want to say the words, but knew he needed to give me something. “There’s a fucking lot that you don’t know, Duchess. I couldn’t have you around me. I couldn’t take you. I knew you’d be safe at home.”