Crown of Lies (Pretty Ruthless Monsters #2)

5. Quinn

5

QUINN

A jolt of surprise ripples through me as I register what Nico just said. What he’s offering.

A truce .

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I murmur, disbelief clear in my voice.

His lips press into a line, as if it was hard enough to say the words once and he has no desire to repeat them. But he’s going to have to. I need to hear it again.

“A truce,” he repeats, his tone stiff. “We’ll forget about what’s happened between us up to this point. If you cooperate with us and help us figure out what Silas was talking about, we’ll tell you what we know too. We can pool our resources and share our knowledge to try to figure out why The Saint wants you. Why he thinks you’re worth something.” He pauses, the muscles in his jaw rippling, then adds, “And whatever money you end up being worth, we’ll split it with you.”

I blink, my jaw falling open.

He’s got to think I’m fucking stupid.

Or desperate.

But what I really am is confused. It’s only been a couple of days, and even though all three men have taken turns interrogating me, they haven’t actually gone hard enough to break me. They haven’t broken bones or skin, or done any of the things that I would’ve had my people do if we were trying to extract information from an enemy.

The worst thing was that goddamn white noise emitter, and even then, it was more annoying than torturous. Killian wasn’t leaving me alone with it long enough, or turning it on loud enough, to have the psychological effects it was supposed to.

So either the Princes think I’m weak—or they’re pulling their punches for some reason.

But that doesn’t make any sense.

I saw the rage in Nico’s eyes after I torched the clubhouse. He was furious. I knew going into it that it was the kind of thing we’d never come back from, although I didn’t give a shit in the moment.

So why is he offering me an olive branch now?

Even though I don’t understand it, part of me is tempted. I could last for a while down here, taking everything the Princes dish out to me, but that doesn’t mean I want to. Eventually, Emmett would come back around, likely with backup. And then what? My people launch into a full-scale war with the Princes and their crew? Once it’s all out in the open that I’m the reason behind the clubhouse burning down, it’ll be game over, and without a leader…

My people would suffer.

They’d put up a fight, as Enigma members always do, but Carnage would have revenge in their blood, and that flame burns hotter than anything. I should know .

Licking my lips, I stare into Nico’s eyes.

Before all of this shit went down, when things were different between us, I was starting to think I could read his expressions. That I knew him well enough to guess what he was thinking. But right now, I can’t even begin to imagine what thoughts are hiding behind his impassive blue and green eyes.

He already lied to me once.

He offered me an alliance, a truce, and look where that got me. He’s proven that a deal with him is a deal with the devil, and there’s no way in hell I’m signing my soul over to him again.

Clenching my jaw, I shake my head. “No.”

A look of surprise flashes through Nico’s eyes. “What?”

I scowl. “Killian didn’t have the noise machine on that long. I’m sure your ears still work. I said no. I’m not taking your fucking deal.”

He growls in frustration, surging toward me. His palms slam into the wall on either side of my head as he looms over me, his large frame crowding mine, pinning me against the wall.

“I’m not playing games with you, mia cara,” he growls. “And this offer won’t last forever. Don’t be a fucking idiot. Take. It .”

“I was already an idiot once when it comes to you.” I tilt my chin up, the chain of my handcuffs scraping against the pipe. “I’d say refusing to bargain with you means I’m finally getting smart.”

Nico bares his teeth, his hands curling into fists where they rest against the wall. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Are you? Because it seems like you’re only interested in helping yourself.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he bites out. “I’ve never met anyone as goddamn stubborn as you. I’m offering you a way out!”

There’s an edge to his voice that I’ve never heard before. Something wild and tense. Almost desperate .

He’s got me shoved up against the wall with his body, the two of us so close together that I can feel all the points of contact between us from our chests to our toes, and the heat radiating from him mingles with the scent of musk and spice.

It’s all so familiar. Too familiar.

I want to pull away, to put some space between us, but there’s nowhere for me to go.

So I stand my ground, ignoring the way my skin tingles with awareness as I lift my uninjured shoulder in a small shrug.

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” I say.

The tension in his body bleeds away a bit, and he starts to nod. But before he can back away, I smirk and add, “ If you get down on your knees and beg.”

Anger sparks in his eyes.

In a flash, one hand moves down to grip my throat, his fingers digging into the sides of my neck.

“There’s only one reason I’d ever get on my knees for you, mia cara,” he murmurs roughly. “And it won’t be to beg you for anything. In fact, you’ll be begging me.”

A shiver of heat rushes through me as images of the times he’s been on his knees for me before filter through my mind.

I scoff. “Begging you to do better, maybe. You were a disappointment as a husband in more ways than one.”

That taunt just seems to piss him off more. He tightens his grip on my throat, leaning in until our noses are almost touching. “What are you saying, mia cara?”

My tongue darts out to wet my lips, my heart thumping hard against my ribs. “I’m saying maybe you’re not the only good actor in this marriage.” I let out a breathy, low moan. “Sound familiar?”

“Liar,” he challenges. “There’s no way you were faking it.”

He’s right about that. I remember being almost terrified of how my body responded to Nico the first time he fucked me on our wedding night. How he seemed to know just how to touch me, his hands rough and possessive as he manhandled me into position so that he could devour me like he was starving. How he demanded that I come before fucking me to within an inch of my life.

It was the soul-shattering kind of sex that I never expected to find outside of the club where I met up with Killian.

But I’ll never admit that out loud.

Not anymore.

“You’d know about liars,” I hiss, my voice low. “Guess this whole fucking marriage was a sham, huh?”

Nico makes a noise low in his throat, tugging me toward him by his grip on my neck. He gazes down at me for a split second, his multicolored eyes blazing.

Then he slams his lips against mine.

I can’t tell if he’s trying to shut me up or prove a point. If this is meant to be part of our negotiation or a punishment.

I can’t decide if I should push him away or pull him closer either, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. My body responds like it has a will of its own, like it’s been just as starved for this as he has. Our teeth clash, drawing blood as our tongues tangle together and we nip at each other’s lips, messy and violent and out of control.

My back arches away from the wall, my hips grinding against the thick cock I can feel rapidly hardening in his pants, and he groans as I bite at his lips again. The tang of blood hits my taste buds, igniting something vicious and hungry inside me.

Good . I want to hurt him.

I want to make him bleed.

Nico grunts into my mouth, rutting against me like an animal as the chain of my handcuffs clangs softly against the pipe above my head. I wish I could reach for him, that I could wrap my arms around him and scratch his back, drawing blood that way too. But I can't, so I settle for hooking one leg around his waist to get his cock closer to the place that’s desperate for more friction, barely aware of what I’m doing.

One of Nico’s large hands tangles in my hair, tilting my head to the side so that he can attack my throat with his lips, teeth and tongue as his other hand shoves its way between us, tugging my pants until they’re down at my thighs.

I have to unhook my leg from around him to accommodate the way my pants are wrapped around my upper thighs, and Nico drags my panties out of the way before his fingers plunge roughly into my pussy.

“You’re wetter than I’d expect for someone who hates me,” he groans darkly, working his fingers in and out of me. Slick wet sounds fill the basement, and although I try to clench my thighs around his hand, Nico keeps my legs pried open with a shove of his knee between them.

The logical part of me screams at me to shove him away. To bite him harder, to scratch his eyes out. We’re husband and wife on paper only, after all, and it was just days ago that he was willing to sell my secrets and my life to a complete stranger.

But after being down here for so many hours in the cold, dark basement, being interrogated and questioned, treated like some kind of criminal in my own home, the absolute relief of some physical release is a siren call I can’t resist.

I arch my hips into Nico’s hand, riding his fingers as he shoves them deeper.

I’m just using him, I tell myself.

He wants to prove he can please me? Fine. Let him please me. Let him take my mind off this fucked up situation, even if just for a moment.

As if determined to make a fucking point, he curls his fingers inside me, moving at a pace so brutal I can barely breathe. Waves of intense pleasure wash through me, and despite the boiling hatred that simmers in my gut, I let myself chase the high of pleasure.

As he fingers me, Nico savages my throat with bites. My hands curl into fists, twisting and tugging against the cuffs wrapped around my wrists as the chain slides across the pipe overhead. My eyes flutter closed as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge, my pussy drenching his fingers, an orgasm building low and insistent inside me?—

I let out a loud yelp when he yanks his fingers out suddenly and slaps my clit, sending a burst of pain through me that bleeds into a rush of pleasure.

“Uh uh,” Nico growls when I whine in protest. “You don’t get to come unless it’s on your husband’s cock.”

My eyes snap open, my chest heaving as I gasp for breath. Shock ricochets through me as I realize what we’re doing—what we’re about to do—but I’m too far gone to care.

I huff out a laugh, my voice husky as I rasp, “See? Like I said, a disappointment.”

Nico’s face turns absolutely primal.

Snarling, he draws back and jerks me around, turning me so that I’m facing the wall before he shoves me up against it. They never gave me a new shirt, so I’m only wearing a bra on top, and the rough cement is cool against my skin, a startling contrast to the heat of Nico’s body at my back.

He drags my pants farther down my legs, tugging them off and tossing them away. I hear the rustling of clothing and a heavy thunk as he sets something aside.

Then, without any pretense, Nico pulls my lower half toward him and drives his cock into me in one swift, hard thrust.