King of the Wicked (The Banished Series Book 1) by T. R. Hamby

Author:T. R. Hamby [Hamby, T. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-20T22:00:00+00:00

Mel

Russia was very boring, but Mel hadn’t gone there for pleasure. He had an order of jewels scheduled to be picked up, and he took them on the plane with him back to Italy. When he arrived in Rome, he dropped them off at the galleria before driving home.

He had had some time to think, though. He wondered about Michael, about that terrible dream he had had. Ariel had been alive, and forcing Mel to torture Michael, to kill him. It had been so vivid that when Mel had woken he had sworn Ariel was in the room.

He remembered what Ariel had said--how Michael was shunned back Home. That they called him Michael the Murderer. Some revered Mel, but none did Michael. Mel had had no idea--maybe that was why Michael so rarely visited Up There.

It scared Mel. All this time he had thought Michael’s reputation had remained the same, that he still had friends, still had respect. What did he have now that he was reviled?

All of this worried him. If Michael had no one, then he had nothing.

He remembered Michael’s face, watching him holding the knife, knowing at any second Mel would attack him. He had become resigned, had lowered his hands. Had he wanted it to happen?

It had scared Mel enough that he had Called for him, asked him lamely if he was all right. Michael had looked annoyed, maybe even a little mutinous, and Mel didn’t have the strength to tell him how he felt...fuck, he couldn’t even admit to himself that he still cared for his brother. How could he, when every time he got close, Lilith’s death flashed through his mind?

But what exactly was the solution now? Mel couldn’t befriend him. They would never be friends; those days were long gone. He didn’t know.

He walked into his apartment, greeted by the smell of cooking.

“Ciao,” he said, turning the corner and finding a radiant Nora cooking brunch. He was taken aback; she was wearing a summery red dress with a flared skirt. She hardly ever wore dresses.

She beamed at him, racing over and embracing him. “Ciao, bello,” she greeted, kissing his neck.

“You are bellissima,” he said, pulling away to look at her. “Where were you hiding that?”

“Oh, it’s old,” she said, smoothing her hands down her skirt. “It’s so nice out today that I decided to wear it. I really don’t wear it much. Put your stuff away; I made prima colazione.”

He dropped off his suitcase in the bedroom and came back, eager to look at her in her dress. She may have gotten even more beautiful in the twenty-four hours he was away.

“How was Russia?” she asked, handing him a plate.

They sat down at the table, and Mel ran his hand up her thigh, making her giggle.

“It was fine,” he said, leaving her alone. “Just that order of topaz. I’m glad to be back. I missed you.”

“Yeah, you had to spend the night without me. How was that?”

He smirked. “I used my imagination.”

She rolled her eyes, giggling again, stealing a piece of bacon from his plate and nibbling on it.

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