I should have been a better friend and felt sorry for Esmeralda. But that she’d ended up mated to an asshole, who was just as broody and brutish as Knox, was karma. Esme had given me so much shit about my mate that I was enjoying her horror at being mated to his brother. Did it make me an asshole for enjoying it? Nope. Not one bit, but that was because if the shoe had been on the other foot, she’d do the same.
“Aria, are you laughing?” When the clap of laughter I failed to conceal tore through the hallway, she huffed, then puffed as her hands squeezed into tight fists, then she began pacing in front of me. “That barbarian can’t be my mate,” she exclaimed. “Did you see him? He’s a Neanderthal! He could be Knox’s twin. For fuck’s sake, help me!” Her growing frustration only fueled my laughter, which, in return, made her even more so. “You are the worst best friend ever! All this time we’ve been together. You’ve wanted to bury a damn body. Here’s your chance, but are you taking it? No. Nope, not the newly crowned Queen of Ruins,” she scoffed, making air quotes around the ‘queen, then ruins’ with her fingers. Stopping her endless pacing, she put her back to the entrance we’d come through, planting her palms on her hips.
Basilius rounded the corner, catching my eyes as I fought against the laughter bubbling up from my chest. His gaze narrowed before gradually gliding down Esme’s animated frame.
“Which you are, by the way. Nothing but ruins await us there, Your Highness. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Again, no. If we have to hide a body, his is freaking amazingly powerful, and solid! Which is beside the point. It doesn’t matter if he’s got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever stared into, either. Nor should I care that he’d be able to bend a bitch over and fuck her so viciously she’d hurt deliciously in certain places, but I do!” A smirk at her mess up had her groaning, loudly in protest of my lack of support.
“You mean, you don’t care,” I corrected smoothly.
“I couldn’t care less about any of that. I mean, he also smelled fantastic, too. Dark masculinity with vetiver, a hint of sage, and bergamot? Definitely bergamot. Fucking hell. I can still smell him.” My eyes darted between them, trying to indicate he was directly behind her.
“We should get back,” I offered, seeking to prevent her embarrassment of him overhearing every tidbit she was word-vomiting in front of him.
“Did you not fucking hear me?” Her fingers pushed through her hair before she dropped her head back, groaning in frustration. “I bet the bastard is an utter beast in bed, too. And even worse? I was too occupied fucking my hand to relieve the damn ache between my thighs while you were getting fucked at the ball! That’s why my vagina is now drenched. Fucking hell. Can you please just help me murder him? I promise to help you dig whatever hole you ask me to if you’ll just help me this one time. Please?”
Clearing my throat, I locked eyes with Basilius. His had narrowed while listening to Esmeralda complaining about her current, pressing issue down below. He’d leaned against the edge of the entrance to the hallway where we were. The anger churning in his eyes caused my stomach to churn, as if he thought we were actually considering doing as Esme requested.
“It’s called venting, which doesn’t end in homicide,” I offered, which should’ve stopped Esme from continuing. Esme didn’t take hints, cues, or general directions well. Instead, she began anew. “Or murder, as you call it around here,” I corrected when a deep frown forced his eyebrows to push together.
“I’m allowed to vent. The man seriously was eye-fucking me so damn hard with those pretty eyes, that my vagina threatened to invite him inside! I’ve never found anyone who made my vagina all tingly without even touching it, yet.” Running her palms over her face, she made complaintive sounds. “Why is that the one time I ask you to hide a body, you won’t even consider it? Besides the fact of it being considered murder, which of course it would be. Obviously in order to hide one, we’d need to murder it first. That’s obvious. As I said before, the neanderthal would just climb out unless he wasn’t able to do so.”
“That, and he’s standing behind you,” I muttered, unnerved at the fury I was witnessing in his mind. “I honestly think he believes you mean to murder him, Esmeralda.” Stepping closer to her, I eyeballed him with a warning burning in my gaze. “Let’s go, Esme.” I refrained from asking, as the turmoil in Basilius’s mind appeared exceedingly unpleasant. I wasn’t leaving her standing in a scarcely lit hallway with him, alone.
“You couldn’t warn me?” she hissed, which, like mine, was more of a shout-whisper.
“When my eyeballs look like they’re a fuzzball, you should pay attention. I’m obviously not suffering from a stroke. Why did you think my eyes were moving to you, then over your damn shoulder?” I asked, which caused a crease in her forehead as her nose scrunched up.
“What the hell is a fuzzball?” That she’d only heard the one word she couldn’t discern was frustrating. “Is it something else you expect to know that is from your world, not ours?”
“Yes,” I admitted. The moment we emerged from the hall, I gazed at the men who were speaking in hushed tones. Walking toward them, I paused at the sound of a rasping purr that vibrated through me. Esme’s hand gripped my shoulder, her nails digging into the flesh. “Basilius, unless you want me to rattle back, I suggest you save your male antics for after I’ve found Knox.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, then removed her hand with a wince at the blood she’d drawn.
“You don’t have to thank me for protecting you. I understand the feel of that primal need currently rushing through your veins like molten lava. That’s how I feel when Knox is near, which I haven’t felt since we arrived.” Stopping in front of the men, I scanned their faces before turning back to Brander and Killian, who watched me closely with an emotion I couldn’t put my finger on, on their faces. “Where is he?”
“Who?” Killian asked. The guilty flush creeping up his throat made my stomach churn.
“Who the hell do you think, Killian? Who would I ask you for? Surely not a palace steward, not when I have a suit of meat on hand.”
“I resent that remark,” he breathed, but it lacked his normal, jovial tone.
Uncrossing my arms, I let them drop to my sides. “You resemble that remark, not resent. Where the hell is Knox?” I asked, noting the heads dropping, as if the floor had become intriguing. “Answer me,” I whispered as fear clamped down around my heart.
Their silence sent every worst-case scenario running through my mind. A chill snaked down my spine as my stomach churned, threatening to empty at my feet. I wanted to shake them until they disclosed to me where Knox was. Or was it because he was with someone else? The pain that thought alone caused was debilitating. Had Knox given up on my returning to him? I’d promised I’d come back. Was there another warming his bed that I’d left cold with my absence? Tears pricked my eyes, singing them as I looked from one person to the other. My breathing turned erratic, matching my heartbeat as it battered against my ribcage.
“Somebody answer me,” I demanded as my fingers curled against my palms, forming a fist.
“He’s gone,” Brander said, shoving his hands into the pockets of the pants he wore.