Ruthless King

All right. That sounded bad, as though she never got any work done. She did. Unfortunately, Margaret gave her all the boring jobs. And all these books . . . they were amazing. She could travel to different worlds. Become someone else.

Someone different than Jilly, the predictable librarian.

Jilly, the dutiful daughter.

Jilly, the pushover.

Unfortunately, those few hours a week that she got to be Nyx weren’t enough to turn her into someone more interesting.

There was no way she was ever going to have two men wanting to fuck her senseless as Blaire did.

Lucky duck.

“Sure, Margaret. More supervised time. Sounds awesome.”

“Jillian! I’ve told you many times that it’s not appropriate to call me Margaret. It’s Mrs. Anderson to you. And you’re going to have to stay late to make up time for all your daydreaming.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Anderson.” She gave her a sickly smile even as she made a mental note to have Mrs. Yards make a voodoo doll in Margaret’s image.

It was probably the only time she’d ever experience a prick.

Jilly giggled at the thought.

“Reggie,are you gonna be lonely living here on your own?”

Regent was aware that the whole room grew silent at Ace’s question.

Thea sent the young boy a chiding look. “Ace!”

“Ace, you’re not supposed to ask things like that,” Keir told his younger brother.

“How come?” Ace asked before taking a bite of bread. Butter covered his cheeks as he chewed. “Ijustwantedtoknow.”

“Ace, don’t chew with your mouth full!” Thea told him. Then she flushed. “I mean, don’t speak with your mouth full.”

Carrick leaned into her, talking quietly. The redness in Thea’s cheeks faded as she relaxed. Jardin then kissed her other cheek whispering something that had red flooding her cheeks again.

“I don’t know why I can’t talk with my mouth full,” Ace complained.

“Because it’s gross,” Keir replied. “We can see what you’re chewing.”

“So? You saw it before it went into my mouth. What makes it so different once it’s in there?”

“Mastication,” Maxim said dryly.

“Huh?”

Keir and Ace looked at him strangely.

“Spit,” Maxim said.

“I’m not allowed to spit at the table,” Ace told him with a sad sigh. “Or anywhere, really. Thea has a rule. She thinks spitting is gross.”

“Maxim isn’t talking about spitting,” Keir said. “He’s talking about the spit in your mouth.”

This sort of family meal would have horrified his father. Whenever Laurent Malone had eaten with the family, it had been a cold, formal affair. Where everyone had been too scared to talk, let alone with their mouth full. Or to reach over and grab a dinner roll from their brother’s plate as Ace was doing.

Or get stabbed in the hand with a fork . . . like Keir was doing to his brother.