Black Collar Queen (Black Collar Syndicate Book 2) (25 page)

Aleja steps forward,
catching the other woman and holding her against the bar, and

Emma’s eyes are hot and
hungry when she leans in, and whispers, “Then he can join us.”
 
And then she kisses Emma, and the other
girl’s body goes stiff and hard under her hands. Aleja shifts, and Emma makes a
startled little noise at the soft press of familiar curves. Aleja’s hands catch
her hips, that delicious flare that her sweater has been hinting at all
night.
 

She tastes impossibly
sweet, nothing like Seth, and it’s not enough. Aleja tugs Emma closer and a
hand slips up, tangling in that gorgeous red-gold hair, and angling Emma just
so. She lightens her touch, slow teasing kisses that are there and gone, and
there, a quick flick of the tongue that makes Emma gasp, and then Aleja kisses
her, hard and deep, a tangle of tongues and soft lips and teeth, nipping so
lightly. Emma whimpers, and Aleja pulls away, swallows her groan as she uses
her grip on Emma’s hair to pull her head back and leave wet kisses on her
throat. One spot, the soft curve where her shoulder meets her neck, makes the
younger woman sigh, and Aleja bites down, softly, smirking when Emma
moans.
 

She pushes Emma against
the bar, roughly, and Emma’s eyes flare open, a devilish smile twisting her
lips as she asserts her own royal nature. She moves, sliding a hand between
them, and into Aleja’s skirt, and her wicked smile returns. “So wet,
Riza.”
 

“Mmm,” Aleja hums in
agreement, a noise that turns choked and broken when Emma shifts, and her
fingers slide into the other woman. Her hips move, bucking against her, and
Emma laughs, a soft, throaty noise as she finger-fucks the older woman and
Aleja slumps against her, all soft curves and warm skin and keening pleasure.
 

She makes a snarl of displeasure
when Emma pulls back, withdrawing her hand. Wet fingers catch the hem of her
sweater, pulling it over her head. Aleja blinks at the younger girl, standing
before her in a black bra and leather boots, her skirt pooling on the floor at
her feet.
 
A choked noise from the
doorway stops them both. Aleja sees the panic in Emma’s eyes, and she leans in,
kissing her, biting lightly at her lower lip until the Morgan queen is soft and
panting in her arms, and then she pulls her sweater off. Without looking away
from Emma, she says, “You are welcome to join us, Seth.”
 

Another noise, almost a
growl, that’s lost in the hoarse noise Emma makes when Aleja catches one pink
nipple between her teeth. Her body arches against Aleja, and she shivers as
Aleja traces her tight nipple with the tip of her tongue. Makes a sobbing noise
as Aleja draws on her, suckling. Screams, when her sharp teeth bite down.
 

Aleja laughs, her hands
skimming down to the waist of Emma’s tights. “Seth had my mark, too.”
 

Emma’s eyes open, and
Aleja follows that blue gaze to Seth, standing in the doorway to the bar, his
eyes wild and hot. Her gaze skirts down, over his impressive erection, and she
laughs. “See something you like, Seth?”
 

His eyes flash to her,
and she sees a hint of panic as she peels down Emma’s tights and black
boyshorts.
 

Seth hisses a curse, and
Aleja laughs, a low, throaty noise before she lowers her head.
 
Emma jerks, her whole body moving at the
first touch of Aleja’s tongue. It's not tentative or questioning. It's a firm
flick over her clit that makes the other girl tense and a smooth glide over her
with a throaty hum of satisfaction. Aleja shifts, one hand on Emma’s belly to
keep her still, the other one hooking her leg over her shoulder. And then she
fucks her with lazy thrusts of her tongue, all too aware of the Morgan king
watching from the doorway.
 

Emma screams once, her
entire body tight and aching, centered on where Aleja is fucking her slow and
steady. When she shifts suddenly, rubbing Emma's clit with quick, light
fingers, she shatters, her legs shaking as Aleja holds her up. Her eyes fly
wide and she stares at Seth as Aleja wrings the last of her climax out of
her.
 

He is gone when Aleja
straightens, and she can see the fear in Emma’s eyes, the bite of regret.
 
“
Sin
remordimientos, dulce reina. No esta noche
,” she murmurs, and the queen’s
eyes widen, her breath catching, before she leans up and pulls Aleja into a
kiss, and for the moment, Seth is forgotten.
 

Chapter 33.
Graystone Apartments. New York City. December 8
^th
 

When he wakes, it's with
a suddenness and a stomach-churning remembrance.
 

The business, and
Aleja’s subtle digs. Emma’s anger, and the girls retreating. He’d given them
space, because Emma needed to be able to handle herself with a foreign court
without him rescuing her.
 

He didn’t think that
when he did finally interfere, he would find them pressed against each other,
Emma’s hands in Aleja’s skirt, looking sexier than he could believe.
  

Seth groans and rolls to
sit up. He’s hung over, and in Emma’s bed. That, more than anything, convinces
him that the events he’s remembering are all too real.
 

 
The apartment is still and quiet. Aleja—and
her clothing and weapons—are gone, but Emma has been dressed and is covered
with a light blanket. Her red hair catches the sun rising outside. She looks so
young, sleeping. Innocent—the way she looked before he left. Not the girl he
saw seducing an assassin the night before.
 

He shifts away from her.
Closes the curtains on her massive windows. When he turns back, she’s staring
at him, big blue eyes peering over the arm of her couch. There’s worry and a
little bit of fear in her eyes, and for maybe the first time in his life, he
has no idea what to say to his cousin.
 

“You’re going to leave
without talking to me, aren’t you?” she says.
 
Seth shifts, uneasily, his hands sliding into his pockets.
 

She makes a face, her
disgust evident, and sits up. “Ignoring this? Ignoring me? It won’t make this
go away or undo what happened last night.”
 

“Last night was a
mistake. It shouldn’t have happened. It sure as fuck shouldn’t have happened
while I was in the other room.”
 

She laughs, a sharp
noise. “Because it’s me. Because I was the one Aleja kissed, it was a mistake.”
Seth goes still and quiet, and she shakes her head. “You would never have
thought twice about it if it were Caleb. If she had gone down on him instead of
me.”
 

A memory flares, a
family sit-down, and walking in on Caleb getting head from one of the girls who
wanted into the family ranks.
 
“He told
you about that?” Seth says, startled.
 

“He told me more than
you think, Seth.” She’s watching him, gauging. “He didn’t just teach me. He was
my friend, the one I turned to when everything was shitty,” she murmurs. “I
don’t think you get that. We both lost him.”

He stares at her, caught
in a memory of decadent nights and willing women, his brother’s laughter
overshadowed by the pain in his cousin’s eyes.
 

She blinks, tears
falling from her blue eyes. Seth’s heart twists as she brushes them away
furiously, and sniffles.
 

“Tell me,” he says. She
looks up at him, and he moves away from the window, sitting next to her on the
couch without being too close.
 

“You don’t want to hear
it,” she says quietly. “You hate when I talk about you being gone.”
 

He does. And of course
she picked up on that, purposely avoided it. “Just because I don’t like
something doesn’t mean
you
don’t need
this. Talk to me, Emma.”
 

She scrutinizes him for
a long moment, and Seth waits patiently.
 

“We didn’t have any
options,” she says abruptly. “Caleb looked out for me because no one else was
around to do it. Uncle Gabe was dead, and you were gone, and you know how
easily Mother forgot I was there. There were a few afternoons, near the
beginning, when my driver didn’t show up after school, and for some reason he
was the one who came to get me. He took me with him to the cafés he worked
from. He listened to me even when I was being an idiot.” She glances at him
from the corner of her eye. “He saw me, Seth. In our family, where no one did,
Caleb saw me. And he let me see him. Not just the badass rebel the family
saw—but
him
. The guy who liked his
coffee with too much cream, and smoked because it calmed his nerves, and who
would rather walk the streets than ride our cars, rather live in that shitty
apartment in Astoria than in the family’s reach.” A tiny smile turns her lips.
“He never took me to his penthouse. I didn’t even know where it was until I saw
it in the records. Caleb’s home was always that messy apartment.”
 

She’s crying again. Seth
isn’t sure she’s even aware of it, because she’s still smiling. “Caleb was my
best friend, Seth. And now, finding out he’s more than that—it’s like losing
him all over again. And I know you can’t be what he was.”

Seth pushes off the
couch, a sudden fit of motion, and glares down at her. “Last night would never
have happened with Caleb!” heh snaps, “You would never have let it, because
you’ve never looked at him like—”—
 

He cuts off abruptly,
and she gives him a sardonic look. “Because I never wanted to fuck him. Because
I do want to fuck you.” Seth’s face goes stony, and she laughs, a bitter noise.
“No more secrets, right, Seth?”
 

“That was never much of
a secret,” he mutters.
 

“It wasn’t,” she says.
“The whole family knew I loved you both. God, Mother hated it.”
 
“Why? Why was he your best friend, and
I’m—this?” he demands.
 

Emma stares at him, her eyes wide and suddenly furious. “Because
he was
here
.”

He recoils and she
scoffs, disgusted. “You don’t get it. Seth, you left. You made promises to all
of us and you fucking
left
. We didn’t
know if you were even alive down there. Do you have any fucking clue what that
was like? Knowing you could be dead, and we would never know. Going to every
family dinner and praying you would be there—and you weren’t. Hoping like hell
that you would be the one to pick me up from school, but it was never you. You
promised to teach me, and you fucking
left
me
.”
 

He grips the edge of the
couch and leans into her. “I know. I know leaving was fucked up. That I was
gone too long. I get it but I can’t change that.”
 

“And I can’t change
this,” she snaps. “You want me to treat you like Caleb? Then maybe you should
have been here. Maybe you should have taught me like he did—maybe instead of
being hell-bent on protecting me, you should consider that I don’t fucking want
it. You say I’m your equal. Prove it.”
 

Seth stares for a long
moment, and she can see the anger there. Quieter, she says, “You treat me the
same way Caleb did at first. Like spun glass. But I’m not, Seth, and he figured
that shit out. I’m a Morgan just like you are.” She glares at him. “Last night
wouldn’t have meant anything to Caleb because he did that shit with his
friends. Because he knew I didn’t care. Because he was here to find that out.
You left and then you want to put it all on me that nothing has changed. Fuck
you, Seth.” She stands abruptly, a rumpled sweater and long bare legs, and
stalks toward her bedroom.
 

The sound of glass
shattering stops her in her tracks. The vodka bottle from last night is lying
in front of her door, shattered glass gleaming with the remnants of the
alcohol.
 

“It changed
everything
,” he snarls. She glances over
her shoulder. Seth is standing as still as stone, his hands clenching and
unclenching. “You’re pissed I was gone? You waited ten fucking months to voice
this shit, and now you think you can just put it out there and walk away?”
 

“You went there, and you
forgot us,” she whispers. “You loved it there.”
 
He moves, that astonishing speed that he shows sometimes, and she’s
suddenly against the wall, his hands on her arms, and there is violence in
every inch of his body.
 

For the first time in
her life, Emma is scared of her cousin.
 

“Every day, Emma. Every
fucking day, I missed you and him. Every day, I regretted leaving and wondered
if I would go home. I came home and everything changed—Caleb is dead. You
killed Nic. Because I
left
.”
 

“I left to make our
family better. For all of us—for you. And I lost the two people I love more
than anyone in the world because of it. Don’t fucking tell me nothing has
changed.”
 

She knows she’s pushing
him, but she doesn’t stop. “And ever since you did, you’ve tried to protect me.
You want me in the world, but safe from it. And you can’t fucking have it both
ways.”
 

Seth’s grip on her arms
tightens and she winces. His eyes go wide and he jerks back quickly. Emma
sighs, quietly. “You still handle me with kid gloves, Seth. You have since
Johnny and the docks.” He flinches, looks away.

“Because that shit
should never be said,” he snarls.
 

“It
is
said. It was when Caleb protected me, and it’s said now. By our
enemies, and our own family. Get used to that—as long as you treat me like an
equal, someone will decide it’s because I’m fucking you.” She doesn’t say
anything else—doesn’t add that he would know that if he had been here.
 

His gaze darkens and he
looks away and she nods. “And that’s why it will work. Because you’ll push me
away to protect me.”
 

“What the fuck do you
want, Emma?” he growls. “I can’t change the past, can’t undo the time I was
gone or bring him back.”

She pushes away from the
wall and he keeps his gaze on her face, refusing to skate down to her long bare
legs. “Ignore the bastards,” she says coolly. “I know what I am to you, and
what you are to me—and as much as I love you, I’m not
in love
with you. Last night had nothing to do with you.” She
haughtily tosses her hair over her shoulder, and cocks a hand on her hip. “I
miss my best friend, Seth. I miss him now as much as I missed you,” she says.
“I miss being seen.”

“Why did you wait so
long to tell me how mad you were?” he demands.
 

She’s surprised he isn’t
raging, that the only display of his temper was a broken bottle and the bruises
she’ll have. Seth’s temper, the tantrums of the brat prince are legendary in
the family—it was one of the few things she didn’t learn from Caleb, but from
the rest of the family.
 

“When?” she asks,
simply. “There hasn’t been time, since you got home, to do anything but
survive. And I was so glad you were home, so shell-shocked about him being
gone. When we went to St. Lucia, I realized just how much you loved it. And
being in Cuba—watching you with

Miguel and Havana. You
were happy to be back.”
 

He stares at her, and
she wants him to deny it. It breaks her heart a little bit when he turns
without a word, and leaves her apartment in silence.
 

Emma shoves the emotions
away and retrieves a broom, cleaning away the last evidence of the night
before, and the argument with her cousin. When the apartment smells of Lysol
instead of vodka and weed, she retreats to her shower.
 

When she emerges, clean
and dressed, and still morose, she goes still.
 

Seth is sitting on the
couch. His hair is spiked and wet, splotches of rain darkening his grey jacket.
He stares at her, and she waits in stillness. There is something about him that
is still angry and volatile.
 

“Drink your coffee,
Emma,” he says, and she almost cries, because she’s heard that from Caleb so
many times. “And get your coat. It’s raining.” He stands, and she obeys without
question. As she fiddles with her scarf and waits for the elevator, Seth shoves
his hands in his pocket. He slides her a glance. “Emma. Don’t ever doubt that I
wanted to come home.”

She shivers at the
dangerous tone, but she nods. Seth’s tension eases and they step silently onto
the elevator.