Page 14 of Venom & Vanity

“What do you think I'm gonna do?” she hisses.

Snow wrenches free of Bash's grip before any of us can stop her and steps out in front, straight toward Doc. I'm already coiled to run her down if this is the moment she bolts, muscles loaded, but she stuns every one of us cold when she stops with her spine pressed to his chest instead. He grabs her waist by instinct, hands closing tight, and the rotten little bitch leans back into him like she belongs there, then drags a slow look up and down the blonde, like she's the one holding court.

“They're possessive. Excuse their terrible manners.” A low growl rolls out of all three of us at once, and it only makes her smile wider, smug, delighted, like our anger's a toy she gets to keep.

“I get it,” the blonde breathes out, and the men behind her shoot her looks that say she's about to catch hell for saying so.

She holds a hand out anyway. “Snow,” she says, as she removes her mask with her free hand before we can stop her.

The blonde takes it. “Cinder.”

The names land in the clearing like a struck match and every one of us goes rigid, trading looks loaded with the same ugly, disbelieving thought.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SNOW

We stand there, hands clasped, eyes locked, mouths hanging open like a couple of idiots caught in the same trap.

“I know you.” It comes out of me like a confession I didn't mean to make.

Her eyes go wide. “Snow Frost?”

I nod. Sir makes a sound low in his throat, something between a warning and a growl, but I don't spare him a glance. Every instinct I have, every hour of training my father paid a small fortune for is locked on the girl in front of me.

“What the fuck is the princess of Frostvale doing on Sinner's Island?” the one in the middle asks. His voice snags on something familiar, a thread I can't quite pull loose. All three of them do that, familiar in a way that itches under my skin.

Where do I know them from?

“Did the Keeper bring you here?” the blond one asks, and I'm still cataloguing them, still turning their faces over, looking for the memory that fits, when it slams into me all at once.

“Holy fuck.” I rip my hand out of Cinder's grip like it burned me. “You're the missing princes.”

All three of them go rigid.

They vanished years ago. Every kingdom got the notice. My father sent men to search. I remember seeing Cinder during the searches, combing the same dead-end woods for boys who were never coming home.

Except here they are.

On this island.

In masks.

“I'm Duke⁠—”

“I know exactly who you are, Duke Hans.” I cut him off before he can finish playing at introductions like we're at some fucking garden party.

“How?” It comes out sharp, suspicious.

I just shrug. Daddy's hand tightens on my waist, a silent order to stay put, to not push this, and part of me, the same part that is curious about how far I can push him before he snaps, wants to do it anyway, just to watch what happens.

I don't.

“Every kingdom was notified when Verin Octavious's heirs went missing.” Duke snarls, and the brothers flank him with a sneer on their faces, none of that ugliness pointed at me. Grumpy and Sir crowd in tighter around me, shoulders locking like a wall going up, and it's almost funny how quick these three are to guard something they spend every other hour of the day tearing apart.

Almost.

My cunt is still throbbing, still clenching around nothing but air and the memory of Daddy's cock pressed hard against my back through his jeans, and I hate—hate—how much of my brain is burning on that instead of the three ghosts standing in front of me.