The Forbidden Note (Redwood Kings Book 4)

Dutch glares into the elevator, his energy that of barely restrained, wild rage.

Finn is emotionless as usual.

And I…

Usually, I’d be pounding my fist into the wall, roaring obscenities, and exploding in every way I possibly can.

But tonight is different.

Because tonight, it’s not just me and my brothers in the elevator, spinning out after dad managed to push all our buttons the way he so expertly does.

Tonight…

Grey is here too.

And I’m holding her hand.

Holding it for dear freaking life.

It’s the only thing keeping me contained. The only thing keeping me from exploding in a burst of self-destruction. The anger sizzles under my skin, hot enough to melt the floor with each step.

We almost died tonight, but I’m more pissed that dad threatened Grey openly than I am about our pursuer in the mountains.

The elevator doors open.

We stomp into the lobby.

The girls in the restaurant all stare at us, heads swinging as we pass by. I’m sure we’re dragging a black cloud of doom around.

Grey tries to wiggle her hand out of my grip. When I glance back, I see her jutting her chin pointedly at the onlookers. Some of them will probably recognize us—if not as Jarod Cross’s kids then as The Kings.

I don’t care.

I don’t let go of Grey’s hand and I don’t stop walking.

She’s six years older than me.

She’s my step-sister.

She’s my teacher.

Screw it.

Screw it all.

We get outside and I meet Dutch’s eyes.

He frowns, his cell phone raised to his ear. I see his chest cave in relief when he hears Cadey’s voice on the other end of the line.

“You okay?” he growls. As he speaks, he gives me and Finn another nod.

I nod back.

Dutch stalks to his car and climbs in.

Finn sticks a hand in his pocket and walks off without a word. His car is totaled and he drove with Dutch, but I don’t think my brother wants to go home right now.

I pull Grey along, stopping in front of my bike.

There was no way in hell I was taking dad’s car when he drove here. Now, I’m glad I rode separately.

I toss Grey a helmet. She stares at it as if she’s never seen such a thing before.

“Goes on your head,” I grunt.

“I know how it works,” she snaps. “But I’m not… I don’t ride motorcycles.”

“You do tonight.”

Her lips tighten.

I walk over and set the helmet gently on her. Her curls are too voluminous, but I manage to fit it all inside the helmet. Clasping the strap under her chin, I pull her forward. She doesn’t protest again.

I climb on top of my bike, my movements rough and impatient.

There’s too much noise in my head. A pounding drum solo that’s all snare and cymbals.

No cohesion.

No freaking pattern.

Just chaos.

But it quiets a bit when she wraps her arms around me. Her left leg bounces up and down. Incessant. Nervous. She squeezes me tight and squeals before I even turn my bike on.

“Relax, tiger. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

I’m bleeding out from the inside, but she manages to make my lips twist in a wry grin.

I press my hand over her leg to calm it and look back at her. Her soft brown eyes collide with mine and I get this unquestionable feeling of helplessness. It’s the weirdest thing, but I suddenly understand why Romeo drank that poison.

This woman… she’s my poison and I’m drowning in the most lethal dose.

Ripping my gaze away, I start the bike and take off.

Grey pastes her body to mine. It’s impossible to ignore how soft she feels, how fragile. The wind batters my face, but I can still sense the gentle hammer of her breath on the back of my neck and the heat of her hands through my leather jacket.

The streets blur together and the terrain gets much rockier. I take the backroads, pointing my bike away from the flatlands where I usually bring girls and heading toward the ridge.

I stop the bike on top of the cleft jutting out from the mountains. From here, the stars are like shimmering plates on a black velvet table. Close enough I can reach out and touch them.

The night is cold and I notice Grey shivering a bit, so I shrug out of my jacket and wrap it over her shoulders.

“Is this safe?” She glances behind her. “What if whoever attacked us comes back?”

“I can move much faster on my bike than I can in the car.”

She seems to turn that over in her mind and then nods.

I sit on the edge of the cliff. Far below are rocky outcroppings. One wrong step and I’ll break every bone in my body on the rocks below.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Scared?” I ask.

“Our car almost ran off a mountain just like this.”

“Exactly why I’m here.” A deep, dark sense of satisfaction fills my chest. “To remind myself I’m not afraid of anything.”

Grey’s look changes a bit, almost like she’s scared of me.

Can’t say I blame her.

I’m not sure if I came out of the womb this thirsty for adrenaline or if being in dad’s world twisted me, warped me into this version of myself.

“Does it calm you?”

I don’t bother looking back. “What?”

“Chasing death.”

I snort. “When did I do that?”

“The motorcycle.” Her shoes scrape loose rocks as she draws closer. “Sitting on the edge of a scary cliff with no harness or anything.”

“I’ve never gotten hurt.”

“That’s because you want to.” She sighs. “The people who don’t want to get hurt are the ones who bruise the most. The ones chasing the hurt… death runs from them.”

“Sometimes, it catches up.”

“But not tonight.” I hear her voice closer now.

Turning, I see her hand extended to me.

I move my gaze from her hand to her face. “You’ve been touching me a lot tonight.”

“You’ve been worrying me a lot tonight.”

I smirk. “It’s getting hard to believe you hate me.”

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “Don’t overthink it. Just get away from the edge.”

I stare at her, deadly serious. “If I take that hand, I’m not letting it go.”

“Zane…”

“I won’t let go, Grey. So pull your hand back if you can’t handle that.”

Her chest heaves and she returns her hand to her side.

I feel a flash of disappointment, but it’s not like I didn’t expect it.

Behind me, more loose stones start shuffling. To my surprise, I feel Grey ease herself down beside me. She does it a lot more carefully and clumsily than I would have, but she eventually settles on the ground.

Her eyes peer over the edge and her face blanches. “That’s… not terrifying.”

I laugh, feeling light as hell. “Don’t look if it scares you.”

“This isn’t like the coffin. Looking or not looking won’t stop me from feeling scared.”

Rather than answer, I stare at her. The wind picks up her curls and tosses them all over, making them look like sentient fingers beckoning me closer. The smell of her perfume reminds me that she’s the worst kind of addiction.

I was wrong.

Earlier.

When I said I wasn’t scared.

I think I’ve found something that terrifies me.

It’s her.

The way she makes me feel.

The way she takes over me.

It’s like she’s drilled into my head, like she’s clogging every pore, climbing up my throat, smothering me.

“Don’t look. Don’t look,” she murmurs to herself, closing her eyes. Brown fingers dig into the dirt on either side of her legs. She’s trying to anchor herself into the ground.

I sit there, watching her, and I realize that whatever my cure is… it’s probably inside her too.

My poison.

My antidote.

Either way, it’s out of my hands.

“Zane,” she murmurs, “how about we—”

I grab the back of her neck and drive her toward me, crushing the rest of her words beneath my lips. Her taste is the first thing that pierces my brain.

Soft. Sweet.

Wine.

She was drinking wine during dinner and earlier in the treehouse.

I intend it to be a quick kiss. She didn’t take my hand.

She can’t even take my hand in the freaking dark with no one around.

But the moment she moves her palm from the ground to fist it around my shirt, there’s no stopping the riptide.

Pieces of sand and stone fall from her fingers and skitter down the front of my shirt. I hear it like music. Like a fantasy-inspired drum chime.

I wrap an arm around her waist and gather her to me, feeling like I already jumped off this stupid cliff. Feeling like I’m falling.

She moans and I know she’s taking that plunge with me.

I part her lips with my tongue, sweeping into her mouth and staking my claim. Her tongue wars with mine and she twists her head to the side, deepening the kiss and leaving me wanting so much more.

My hands skate under her shirt, burning every inch of skin I can find. I skim over her bra. Heat sears me when I feel lace. She arches into me, almost begging for my touch.

Time suspends until it feels like we’re both locked in eternity. But when I start pushing her backward, my hand brushes against a stone and sends it skittering over the edge of the cliff.

I can’t hear the shatter.

That’s what draws me out of my lust-filled haze.

The stone is so tiny, so inconsequential that it doesn’t even make a sound when it hits the rocks.

I pull back sharply, my eyes descending to the rocks below.

It’s all dark. All black. All death.

My body buzzes with electricity.

My hands, my mouth, they’re full of her.

But I can’t help feeling like our kiss tonight sealed our fate. We aren’t just falling. We’re both a little too close to smashing into pieces at the bottom.

And the worst part?

I don’t think anyone will hear us when we shatter.