I pushed my hands into the ground, trying to get up as he stepped forward.
Towering over me, Drake pressed the heel of his boot onto my chest. He forced my body back down and leaned forward.
“You’re mine,Sir Lancelot, until you’re dead.” With his face hovering above mine, he sneered down at me. “You’d do well to remember that.”
Chapter Two
My sudden, uncontrollable fit of laughter? Evaporated.
I wheezed, grappling for the bedside table and my inhaler. While I’d been doing great with my new asthma medications, old habits died hard.
Drake’s unexpected arrival hit like emotional whiplash after assuming he’d arrived unexpectedly already, and getting a reprieve from that surprise in the form of Morty Dread.
Because I wasn’t just half-dressed in his son’s bedroom in the middle of the night. I wasall thatwith the Dread family heir smirking beside us. And Morty Dread did not strike me as the type to mellow out a tense situation.
If he spotted a huge pool of gasoline next to an open flame, he’d probably piss a trail between them to connect the two and set the whole area on fire. So, everything about our current situation caused wave after wave of panic.
Drake D’Arthur had hated my general presence inside Camelot Court from day one. He might blow a fuse if he thought I was seducingtwoof his elite Kings into my bed.
I didn’t want to think about what might happen if he learned what I’d done with just one King—his son and actual heir—and said King’s right-hand man.
I mean, I wanted to think aboutit.
But Drake’s reaction to learning about it? I’d pass.
My thoughts spiraled into a scattered mess of anxiety.
After believing the parents weren’t supposed to be here for a few days, being caught off guard by Drake’s unexpected arrival primed me for panic.
Kingston redirected my attention to him. “What do you mean he’s on his way?”
Morty inspected his nails and pursed his lips. “I called.”
Kingston raised an eyebrow. “Called whom?”
“Whom?Seriously?” Morty scoffed, but when Kingston stared him down, he confessed. “I called my baby bro, of course. Family business. You understand.”
He winked at me as he patted Kingston on the shoulder, and slithered toward the bookcases.
“You haven’t redone the place since I lived here, right?”
“No, but?—”
Morty nudged his shoulder against the side panel of one of Kingston’s bookcases. He cursed under his breath when nothing happened, and I cocked my head to get a better view.
Stepping back, he assessed the bookcase from top to bottom before stepping toward it again. He slid his palm over the surface as he hummed.
“Ah.” He smirked, hand splayed just shy of the middle and slightly off center to the left. “There it is.”
With a grunt, he pushed, throwing his body weight into the force of his arm.
My eyes widened as a panel popped out and away from the rest of the bookcase, and I strained to get a closer look.
Morty blocked my view. “Your key, Your Highness?”
“What is this, Morty?” Kingston gave little away but a slight shake of his head. “Why the theatrics after that news? I need to get downstairs and prepare.”
“So true. So true.” Morty nodded. “Except?—”
