“I don’t give a fuck about her, Khloe.” It dawns on me that I didn’t ask about her, or any of the other soldiers that were from Patience. Actually, I hadn’t asked much about what they did when we left Patience. I can only take so much information at once, and the pain throbbing through my ovaries is too fresh to care.
“I know. But it’s still something you need to know.”
I really don’t, but I listen anyway because aside from my distaste for her son, Khloe seems reasonable.
“There was a man.” Khloe looks over her shoulder briefly.
“There always is,” I repeat for the second time today, as she comes back to me.
“She didn’t like that he chose me, so she went to Patience.”
I turn my head slightly, not enough to look at Kyrin, but enough to study the tattoos on his hands. Almost like Eli’s, but not quite. “I met Kyrin once or twice in the past.”
His thumb twitches, and I study the veins that rope up his arm. “Yeah. Because when I found out about my father being caught up in a woman from Patience, I found myself intrigued. There’s no way, right?” I should just elbow him in the face and then maybe he’ll stop talking.
“But she was Kiznitch when he was with her.” I bring my eyes back to Khloe. It’s safer there. I’m scared what will happen once I finally look into Kyrin’s eyes.
Eli’s hand is back on my knee, and this time I don’t fight him off.
“No,” Kian says from the other side of the room. He’s standing near the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, watching the flames from the open fire. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “It carried on for years and years later.”
Kyrin’s hands are now fisted on his thigh.
Kian carries on. “I take it Kyrin hasn’t played a game of Sixers with you yet, so you won’t understand my reference, but your mother was my Ace.”
My brows curve in. Confusion takes over anger as I frantically look for someone—anyone—to tell me what the fuck that means. Instinct kills my stubbornness as my head whips to the side, my eyes slamming into Kyrin’s. My stomach coils, and all of that pain from my memory of the hysterectomy is replaced with a calming kind of chaos. Unfortunately for me, that calming is blanketed in the guise of angst. I search his eyes anyway. Like a bullet for its target, I seek him out.
He runs his finger over his upper lip, his dark eyes on mine. “Killian and Saskia, Pers and King…”
I wait for more.
He clenches his jaw. “Love, Lilith. He loved her, but more than that, they both had the pleasure of our ancestral curse that we all like to play with every time we like someone enough to be interested in them. Which, by the way, I still think is bullshit.”
I massage my temples, looking around the room to find King and Killian on one side, but Keaton and Cartier gone. “So, Cartier?”
Khloe swings her leg over the other, pouring more liquid into her glass. “When someone hurts me, I swallow the pain, but not before I make everyone taste it. Kij was a revenge fuck. Nothing more and nothing less.” Her eyes come to mine, flicking between Kyrin and Eli. “I’m guessing you’re the same.”
“I don’t know,” I murmur, gesturing for the bottle. “I’ve not been hurt—” I take a long swig, resting the liquid in my mouth until it burns before swallowing. “Until now.”
Kyrin’s thigh presses against mine.
I clench my jaw and focus on the burning in my belly from the alcohol to stop the pain that’s exploding inside my heart.
Khloe looks down to where Kyrin’s and my thighs join, before coming back up to me. “Mmhmm.” She leans forward, placing her empty glass on the ground. “I will say this, because I like you. I see myself in you a lot.” Someone coughs in the background. “Be careful. A warpath is not a straight line. It’s more of a circle, and everything you destruct on your journey you will eventually have to cross again.” Her smile is weak as she twirls my hair around her fingers. “I wish someone would have told me that all those years ago.”
“Pretty sure Dad did…” Kyrin adds, but she ignores him.
“If you ever need me, find me, and I’ll be there.” Finally, she stands, and I watch as she makes her way back to where Kian stands near the fire. I’ve been conditioned to not need anyone in life, and right now I’ve never been more thankful for that.
Secrets are a King’s forte, yet I’ve failed when it’s come to my own. Trapped in my own feelings and thoughts about Lilith and Patience, it blinded me. Softened me for her. I should have known. Bishop, Nate, and Brantley sure as fuck did. Keeping this from Lilith and Kyrin was a walk in the park, but from my Kings? Not a chance. We are brothers. A fucking eccentric bunch, but brothers, nonetheless. I still don’t know just what exactly Killian released inside her head, and I’m guessing since she didn’t say anything, it was nothing I needed to worry about.