Sinful Empire (Mount Trilogy #3)

The last time I knotted these silk ribbons, I was anxious, but excited. Hopeful, but fearful. Optimistic, yet full of doubt. Tonight, I’m filled with a confidence I never knew was possible, and it’s not due to the final box that I found on the bathroom counter, although that contained yet another surprise.

It was about six inches square and three inches tall. When I opened it, I found a tiara fit for a princess—no, a queen—resting on black velvet.

“You’ve been the queen from day one. The most powerful piece on the whole f*cking board.”

I lower my arms to my sides and study my reflection. Even with a few cuts and bruises, I look like a queen tonight, and I’m ready for my king.

A smile, one full of confidence and conviction, crosses my face, and I turn away from the mirror. I cross our suite until I reach the outer door and unlock it.

V waits patiently outside for me. When he turns, his eyes widen, and for the first time ever, a true smile softens his harsh features. I can’t help but wonder what fate Lachlan saved him from, because I have no doubt that his loyalty springs from something I can’t begin to imagine.

“I think I did okay in an hour, don’t you?”

I don’t know why I ask him. I already know that despite being a little banged up, I look good. My red hair curls in silky waves down my back, and the tiara rests perfectly on my head. Then there’s the confidence I feel—it puts a golden shine on everything.

V nods and holds out an arm like a proper gentleman, and I lay my hand on it. He escorts me back to the floor-to-ceiling picture, and it slides aside when he engages the mechanism. He leads me by the hand up and down and around corners until another hidden door opens into a dimly lit room done in all gold and white.

It’s a . . . ballroom, complete with more ornate versions of the sconces I’ve seen in the hallways, but also chandeliers dripping with crystal, lending a low, romantic light to the room. It’s not the size of the Beauty and the Beast ballroom, but smaller, like it’s for more intimate affairs. It reminds me of the interior of the Roosevelt Hotel, all gold gilt and marble out of another era. I can picture flappers dancing and drinking champagne with men in tails.

V lowers his arm and points toward one set of drapes that reach up to the ceiling. They’re at least twenty feet long.

“Is that where he is?” I ask, nodding toward the drapes. I assume they hide some kind of alcove, if what we’re doing is recreating the night of the masquerade.

V shakes his head, but lifts up a finger.

“One minute?” I ask, attempting to interpret his rudimentary sign language.

He nods again.

My heart, already thumping, kicks up as adrenaline rushes into my blood and I head toward the curtains. As I sneak through the small gap, the light turns into a rainbow of colors from a bowed window and a railing in front of it. It’s some kind of internal balcony, offering a view of a glowing courtyard through stained glass, lit by the nearly full moon.

The stained glass turns this little refuge into something out of a fantasy.

What is this place? I grip the railing, listening as V’s footsteps recede, filled with equal parts wonder and anticipation as I wait for Lachlan to join me.

I don’t hear him. I never do. But my skin prickles with awareness as the curtain behind me opens wider for a moment before closing completely.

I bite my lip to stop myself from speaking, and lock my fingers around the railing to keep myself from turning around.

No longer do I follow his instructions out of fear, but for a completely different reason.

Love.





Mount





Standing in a darkened corner, I watch her walk into the opposite end of the ballroom. I lurk in the shadows, which is where I live my life, where I’ve always been content. It’s where I belong. But Keira, she belongs in the light.

Somehow, I’ll find a way to make this work, because anything less is not an option.

Her lack of hesitation, sure stride, and straight shoulders send every signal that this is exactly what she wants.

She has never cowered before me. Not even the first night in the library where she threw off her trench coat and defied me with that henna tattoo.

But this is different from not cowering. Keira Kilgore has finally come completely into her own. She’s the most magnificent woman I’ve ever seen. Hands that have been bloodstained as often as mine have no business touching her, but I’m not letting her go. Ever.

I cross the room silently, a skill I acquired long ago out of necessity and now employ for my own purposes. With a flick of my wrist, I move the curtain aside and step inside to where there’s no shadows, no pale white light, but a rainbow of colors.

Maybe that’s where we belong.

Not in the shadows. Not in the light. But somewhere completely unique to us.

I shut the drapes behind me, sealing us inside. Her muscles tense, but not like she wants to run. No, it’s pure anticipation . . . at least, I assume so because that’s what’s running through my blood.

Despite my earlier injuries, I’m feeling no pain. Not when I look at her. I shouldn’t take her tonight; I know that. I should wait until she’s fully healed, but I don’t have the luxury of time right now.

Tonight, I have to right the wrongs of the past and forge a new memory.

I step closer, drawn to the fiery red hair that matches her temper, loving how she stills in anticipation. Instead of being transported back to that night, the night she thought I was someone else, I stay firmly fixed in the present.

Because tonight, she knows exactly who I am.

I close the remaining distance between us and sweep her hair to the side, satisfaction filling me when I see the crown on her head. She deserves all the jewels, and likely has no idea that the emeralds winking in the white-gold setting are real.

No more pretenses. No more imitations. Everything from today forward is as real as it gets.

Keira Kilgore is mine.





Keira





Goose bumps prickle along my bare skin in anticipation. When Lachlan’s mouth closes over that exact spot, the one where my shoulder meets my neck, a moan breaks free from my lips. My nipples peak against the bodice of the dress, and my clit pulses wildly, enhanced by my piercing.

I don’t know how my body can react to him so quickly, but it does. He barely has to touch me to set me on fire.

When he drags his teeth up the tendon of my neck, my fingers flex on the railing and I force myself not to let go. He nips my earlobe and I drop my head back, resting it against his shoulder. A gesture of surrender. Submission.

He tastes every inch of my bared skin before balling my skirt up and reaching around me to cup between my legs. A growl rumbles in his throat when he finds me already wet.

The sound that used to equally frighten and arouse me now causes goose bumps to form as he thumbs my piercing. I shudder as pleasure riots through me.