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“Of course not,” I tossed back at Bastian. “But none of us can marry her if she’s damaged goods.” Stepping closer, I lowered my voice in case Alex could hear us through the door. “She has complex PTSD. Without her brother around to control it, she’s going to unravel. It’s only a matter of time. Don’t fuck with our plans.”

“We don’t take orders from you,” Damian said as he walked past me.

Bastian moved with him, then hesitated for a moment. He placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “I won’t let him hurt her.”

“He lost control last week,” I pointed out. “We all saw it. Damian isn’t right in the head.”

“Let me handle it. He’ll be back to normal soon.”

Normal?Damian didn’t know the meaning of the word. He hadn’t been normal for a single day of his life.

Bash had a brotherly bond with Damian, like they knew what the other was thinking. Damian was hard to read, his emotions even harder to figure out. But Bastian always seemed to know when Damian was teetering on the edge, ready to snap.

After they retreated to their rooms, I opened Alex’s bedroom door. She sat on the four-poster bed at the center of the room, arms crossed over her chest like she was trying to defend herself. Her pale blue eyes were red and glassy.

What the fuck did they do to her?

The guest room was five times the normal size of a bedroom, with high ceilings and an ensuite bathroom. I walked toward the balcony set between tall windows that overlooked the bay.

The French doors were open.

For a moment, I stood between them, staring down at the water crashing against the rocks. I closed the doors and pulled the drapes over the windows.

“What do you want?” Alex asked, her voice shaky.

Turning to face her, I loosened my tie and approached the bed, tugging on the silky blue fabric. “Calm down, princess. I won’t hurt you.”

Her eyes widened when I dropped my tie on the table by the window. “This house has enough beds. You’re not sleeping in mine.”

Working on my top few buttons, I sat in the armchair across from the bed. “I haven’t slept in over thirty hours. I’m not in the mood to argue over something that doesn’t matter.”

“No,” she yelled, cheeks flushed. “After what those monsters just did… I’m not sleeping with any of you.”

“What did they do?”

Alex blew out a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the gray duvet. “They forced themselves on me.”

I slipped off one wingtip, then another, setting them under the table. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, but…” She bit her lip. “They’re animals.”

“Did you like it?” I shrugged off my suit jacket and draped it over the chair. “Is that what bothers you most?”

She pressed her lips together and looked away. In her last year of high school, Damian and Bastian had tormented her every day. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. They touched her, teased her, tasted her, did almost anything they wanted to her.

Except fuck her.

That was our one rule.

Luca had acted as if she didn’t exist. He used other women to make Alex pay for disrespecting him on her first day at Astor Prep. My older brother even went as far as forcing her to watch him fuck a cheerleader over the bathroom sink. Alex pretended not to care, but I knew she had feelings for each of us. In her own way, she wanted this.

She wantedus.

Shirtless, I stood up and fumbled with the zipper of my dress pants. Her eyes traveled up and down my muscled abdomen. She bit her bottom lip, then rolled her tongue across it. I had dozens of scars marring my chest, some of them dipping beneath my waistband.

Cigar burns.

Knife marks.


Tags: Jillian Frost Princes of Devil's Creek Erotic