Sequel to T H E M. Cannot be read as a stand-alone
THEM IS NO LONGER ON WATTPAD OR ANYWHERE ELSE. THIS BOOK IS NOT 'THEM' SEQUEL.
|Them and Her. For now and Forever|
One brilliant artist. Three dangerous men.
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"Be gone, demon," I muttered to Zavier, snuggling deeper into Xerxes's chest.
Zavier chuckled. "You need to eat something.,"
"I'm tired." My eyes narrowed. "Thanks to your brother."
Xerxes wrapped an arm around me, not saying anything. He had not said anything for a long time. I woke up like a minute ago and he just held me.
I hated that he was dressed.
I hated that he wouldn't kiss me on the lips.
I hated that he wouldn't talk to me.
It was so clear he was mad at me. Probably because I left him, left them, for five years.
Xerxes sat up and settled me on his thigh. He wrapped the blanket around us, covering my naked body, and looked down at me.
I looked away.
"What's happening here?" Zavier asked, raising an eyebrow at me, putting one hand in the pocket of his trousers. He was dressed to take over the world. Creeds were always dressed to take over the world.
Xerxes didn't say anything. I looked away from Zavier as well.
I got out of Xerxes's lap and he let me go. Sitting down on the bed, I looked up at both of them.
The door opened and Ashton came inside, his glasses on his nose and muscular body dressed in a pitch-black suit. "Why is there an elephant in the room?" He looked at me. "What's wrong, baby?" He walked closer, cradling my face in his hands, his eyes lingering on the bruises on my neck. "It was your father." He let out a sigh. "He won't hurt you anymore. We'll make sure of it."
"Kiss me," I said to him.
He frowned. "What?"
"Kiss me," I repeated, pointing to my lips. "Here."
He shook his head. "Let's get you something to eat, hmm? Zavier made bacon-"
"Take your clothes off," I said to Zavier.
"Is that an order?" He inquired, giving me a look that promised a red ass.
I but my lip, shaking my head. "Why won't you take your clothes off?" I asked, looking at Xerxes. "Why won't you kiss me on the lips?" I asked, looking at Ashton and Zavier.
They didn't answer.
Zavier sat down beside me. "You need to eat." He picked me up along the blanket and cuddled me to his chest. I closed my eyes, tired, hurt, and confused.
He walked out of the room and into the kitchen. The mansion was the same, everything of the same color. It felt as if no time had passed.
He sat me down on the counter and started cooking while I watched him.
"Xerxes is angry," I told him, he paused for a second but then nodded.
"He took you going away a little too harshly. It hit us all, kitten, but Xerxes likes to be miserable. He likes a reason to be miserable. He..." Zavier sighed. "He doesn't like happiness because he thinks he doesn't deserve it. We don't deserve it, all of us."
"I think..." I said as I fiddled with my fingers. "That you think you doing deserve happiness because happiness has always been stolen moments for you. It feels forbidden because father and then...Igor made sure you never had that." He was listening to every word I was saying with his back turned to me, hands quickly working around the counter.
"Makes sense," he muttered. "When you were away I..." He sighed. "We kinda...lost it. The only thing which kept your memories away was..." He shook his head. "I don't want you scared of me."
"Tell me," I said. "I won't get scared. Xerxes said you are my monsters that you...you are mine." He paused. "Make me feel like you are mine," I whispered. "Tell me."
He turned around with a wild look in his eyes. "Killing," he whispered, walking closer to me. He wrapped his arms around my waist, looking deep into my eyes. "I tortured," he whispered. "I made people bleed, little girl. I made people run for their lives in my maze. We all did." He pressed his lips to the bruises on my neck, the action so gentle, a complete contrast to what he was saying. "Our misery lessened just a little when we did all that, kitten." He pressed his lips to my collar bone. "It fucked us up more than we already were." He chuckled. I shivered.
He finally pulled back, looking into my eyes. "Our hands..." He took my hand, intertwining our fingers. "Are stained with blood, little girl, but they always want to hold you."
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Only you."
. . .
Romantic? Nah, not really. He was talking about killing people.
