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She wasn’t sure when it started. She wasn't sure when she began to suspect that he might be pulling the wool over their eyes.
It might have been a year back, when the weather was warm, sometime in between the single mother and her three children receiving Charity, and the time they came across the home of a lonely old man watching over the corpse of his long-dead wife.
Kellie thought about that last one for a while. It had struck an odd chord inside of her, seeing a man so loyal to his aged, dead bride, so bound to her that he never left her side even after she passed. Maudlin, yes. Disturbed, absolutely. Nonetheless, she had looked up at their bodies after they strung them up outside their little cottage, contemplative. They are together now, she'd thought as she turned away, following after the other Jimmys, distantly hearing the Sir Lord himself cheerily humming away at the front of the group.
She protected the rear, solemn as she was. Someone had to be serious, someone had to watch out for the rest, and she damn well knew it wouldn't be him; he was having too much fun. Whatever this world had done to Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal, it made him take glee in every bit of awful he wrought, every bit of horror he came across. Kellie knew better, because she'd seen terrible things long before she ever met him. It's just that being a Jimmy meant they were The Thing that others feared, and that was power.
He gave them something to believe in, too, how the infected were demons sent from hell to punish the living. Sir Lord Jimmy called the actions they did to others Charity. That it was all done in the name of their Dark Lord, his father.
While a part of her wanted to believe his fantastical tales, another part didn’t, after a time. Sometimes, his stories didn't always add up. One plus one equaled four occasionally.
She stared holes into the back of his blonde head as they marched onward. Maybe they really did these things because Jimmy was the son of the devil. Or maybe, just maybe, they did these things because Sir Lord Jimmy enjoyed the violent acts of murder. He enjoyed the screams, and he got sated from the fear in their victims' eyes.
Not just enjoyed them, as in having fun. But in the way that men do when they are getting their rocks off. Kellie has seen it in the wild, the things that men will do to slake their thirsts. Men who lived in the time before the rage virus. Sir Lord Jimmy had only been eight when the world fell to shit, but Kellie suspected that meant he was morphed by whatever fucked up his brain in the first place.
So, no. She was entirely skeptical of him lately.
Pausing in his humming, Sir Lord Jimmy turned and looked behind him, catching her eye through the pack, grinning wide. The sun above caught on his hair like some sort of demented halo. "Still sulking, are we?"
Her eyelids fluttered briefly at the insinuation. There was a time early on when she might have been the one walking one step behind his heels, the way Jimmima did with her chokingly obnoxious idolization. That ain't Kellie these days. Some Jimmys loved the violence, the horror of it all. Others, much like herself, simply weathered the fever dream of blood. She was numb to it. Indifferent to the suffering. Kellie worked her thoughts over before carefully saying what he wanted to hear. "Aye. It's a shame the old fart passed before we completed our Charity. A weak heart, that one. Pity that."
The self-fashioned prince snorted in agreement. "There will be more than plenty a souls for ya to give Charity to on this winding road, ya bloodthirsty thing. How's that?"
The other Jimmys echoed it back with laughter as they searched for the next place to bed down for the dark hours.
She gave him the barest of appeasing smiles, only a twitch at the corners of her mouth. He faced forward again, satisfied that she was under his thumb.
When she woke to the morning sky above, it was still dark enough that the others were snoozing on their bedrolls. She'd gone to bed first, laying out her roll and claiming her space, using her pen to draw designs on her hands until she felt sane enough to fall into slumber. She told herself the screams in her head were payment for not being the one tied up and screaming, and that's what it usually took to sleep soundly. She used to dream of the gore. Of flesh being flayed from bare chests. Of the way the meat would splat to the floor. Her stomach used to churn, but she's hardened over the years.
Now, pain was meaningless, so long as it wasn't hers.
Glancing to her right, she caught sight of Jimmy Fox snoring, sprawled out haphazardly next to that oaf Jimmy Shite, and pretty Jimmima was curled up in a ball in sullen fashion, ah, not good, which meant-
Rolling to her left side, she found herself face-to-face with Sir Lord himself. He'd put his bedroll next to hers while she'd been sleeping, it seemed, and that would explain Jimmima's roly-poly state of despair, even in slumber. The mad bitch would kiss his feet if he asked, she'd probably jump off a cliff if he told her it would put her in his best graces in the abyss for all time.
Not Jimmy Ink, though, never.
Kellie stared at his face, taking in the lines appearing on his forehead. They didn't use to be that deep; she remembered him from before time began to take its payment, when his deepest lines were the ones beside his cunning eyes. Always smiling about something. Usually something terrible. Briefly, the desire to shake him and say, why are you like this, ya nasty wee shite, took hold of her, but she thought the better of it. She already knew the answer. Whatever happened with his sisters, his da, the like. If he's to be believed, which he isn't, the whole devil being his father might factor in too.
Her thoughts must be loud, or maybe her stare was too intense as she studied him, because Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal woke up, only vaguely surprised to find himself nearly nose to nose with Jimmy Ink.
He smirked after a moment, blue eyes still full of sleep. "Mornin' sunshine. Missed me, 'ave ya?" His voice was thick, rusty like a nail.
The comment was about their current proximity, no doubt. Or perhaps the notable lack thereof, as of late. Either was feasible.
Kellie gazed back at him through half-lidded eyes, adopting a bored stare. She envisioned rolling him onto his back like the insidious velvet-clad Teletubbie that he was, and showing him what for with her knife. She also pictured what it would be like to grab him by his hair and straddle his face, to demand he put his lying tongue to better use, to make up for all the shit he put her through. That was a risk she wasn't willing to take. He liked power too much; he would not appreciate the tables being turned. He would pitch a fit, but that might actually be funny-
If he didn't kill her, that was. That was always a risk.
"I was sleeping here first. Maybe you miss me," she quipped instead. She wasn't about to discuss the fact that she had nearly rolled off her own bedroll onto his, likely seeking his male warmth in her slumber. They used to share a bedroll, back in her early twenties, but time, events, and nearing thirty had changed something in her and how she saw him. It was almost like feminine intuition suddenly reached level ten within Kellie, and her mind matured faster than his, even if he still had a few years of seniority over her.
Jimmy Crystal cocked one of his eyebrows and replied sarcastically, "How's that?" He didn't like being ignored; he was the sort who had to be the center of attention, and Kellie had been cold to him lately, unimpressed with the insufferable behavior that she once found magnetic years ago. She thought Jimmima could fill the gap that Kellie left -and Jimmima usually did- but now that he'd noticed Kellie emotionally pulling away, Sir Lord was crawling back. Trying to maintain control, trying to keep her on a leash, long though it might be.
She felt a growl scratching at her throat, but she swallowed it down, the way she swallowed down all emotions that she didn't want to have. "The devil keeps you warm at night. I think I miss that on chilly evenings," she said instead as she sat up abruptly, wanting to put space between them. He watched her as she walked over to Jimmima, shaking the other girl's shoulder once she found it. "Hey. Up. I'm going to wash up by the stream. Come with me."
Jimmima slapped her hand away, but unfurled with catlike ease. "What's your rush?" She cut her gaze over to Jimmy Crystal, who was now playing with one of his knives. There was a certain yearning in her eyes, the hurt still hovering around her mouth. She liked being his favorite, but Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal was a fickle man who played everyone like a fucking violin. She would learn.
It was pathetic, but Kellie had been there once. Maybe not quite so badly as Jimmima. She took pity on her. "I feel dirty, and you reek like the flesh of that old man you were cutting the tongue out of yesterday. Old and dusty."
Mouth dropping open, Jimmima was on her feet, moving like a dancer. "I do not! Take that back, before I make you! Tell me I don't, Jimmy Ink-"
Kellie scoffed and tugged the other girl along, getting in her face to aggressively say, "Try to make me, sister."
Instead of being cowed, Jimmima was thrilled, face going alight with joy as she shrieked and leapt on Jimmy Ink's back, arms around her neck and legs around her waist, cackling. "I'm going to drown you. Piggyback!"
Placing her hands on Jimmima's thighs to steady her, Kellie waddled them off to the stream she'd scouted nearby the other day, eager to scrub off the filth that never seemed to leave her. It was a certain pleasure to crash herself and Jimmima into the icy water, to feel the pain of it against her bare flesh. Sometimes, she used rocks to try to scour the filth from her hide, but even when her skin turned red, nothing seemed to make her clean inside.
They returned to camp after a few near-successful drownings, feeling vaguely better than before. Jimmy Ink was already forgiven for the audacity of Sir Lord choosing to sleep near her; Jimmima was never one to stay mad. Well, mad as in angry, not mad like a nutter. She was absolutely nuts all the time.
"Do the dance, Jimmima. Ya know the one," Jimmy Crystal said, sitting by the fire, the flames reflecting off his pupils as he grinned. "It would please my da, aye? Old Nick whispered it to me."
Practically glowing under his returned attention, Jimmima stepped into a perfectly practiced rendition of a Teletubbie dance while the rest of the Jimmys laughed and clapped.
Kellie sighed at the sight of Jimmima's oblivious humiliation ritual and began to pack up their things, ready for wherever they would travel next. Her sharp movements must have tipped off her annoyed state of mind, because Sir Lord Jimmy cast a sharp glance her way, saying, "Why don't ya go and begin scouting ahead, Jimmy Ink? See what's in store for us on the path the Dark One bid we take. Told me in my dreams last night, 'e did, and we're heading North this time."
All she gave him was a huff and a dry look, hoisting herself to her feet again. There was no point arguing, not when he was adding Old Nick into the mix.
"Why does Jimmy Ink always get to go?" Jimmy Shite whined, rolling his shoulders as if aching for an excuse to fight something, anything. "She always has her fun with the infected demons before we even arrive-"
Kellie looked skyward, wanting to go shake the stupid bloke. What did he want her to do, leave the infected demons running around somewhere behind her?
"Ah, see, she's a bit more clever than you, ain't she?" Sir Lord Jimmy drawled with an unkind edge as he beheld Jimmy Shite and his unsolicited complaint. His blue eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as he met her eyes across the ever-growing distance between them. "She knows best. Don't you, Jimmy Ink?"
I'm a bit more clever than you, too, aren't I, luv? She bit the words back, swallowed them like bitter fruit. She knew how to pick her battles. She knew how to play the game.
"Oh, not I." She spoke blandly, as if the entire affair were boring her to an early fucking grave. "Your guidance from the Dark One leads us all, Sir Lord Jimmy."
His grin was frozen as he held eye contact with her.
They both knew she was fluffing him up. Stuffing his ego. That's the crux of it, yeah? She's clever, and he's a master manipulator-
-and they both recognized this in each other.
He knew that she was onto him after all these years, and he knew she was playing the game, playing pretend that she still respected him for the sake of the others when maybe, just maybe, she didn't.
...and it was getting his goat.
She never pushed him too far, just took him to the edge, because he was mercurial and sadistic. Not a good mix, no indeed. So long as she played within the boundaries, he'd let her get away with her quiet insubordination. So long as no other Jimmys could realize it. So long as they didn't know she was calling Jimmy a liar to his face. If she went too far, there was no telling what Sir Lord Cystal would do to her. Well. Kellie had a vague idea.
There was a Jimmy a few years back, Jimmy Big, who thought his size might make him a threat, who thought he'd stand up to Sir Lord Jimmy and overthrow his arse.
Didn't work out how Jimmy Big thought.
Jimmy Big got force-fed his own balls before he bled out.
This time, it was an unfortunate family that crossed their path. The comfortable numbness settled behind her breast as she watched the events unfold, mentally putting a wall between herself and the sound of people screaming as they burned at the stake like witches of old. Sometimes, if she tried hard enough, she could imagine her hands weren't even hers. That it wasn't her hands that tied them to the post. It wasn't her nose smelling their flesh burning.
Sir Lord Jimmy had stated this charity was reuniting these people with the Dark One, casting their souls into his fiery pit.
He'd waxed on and on about it, saying how pleased his dark father was, waving his ringed hands around, putting on a fucking show. There was a time that Kellie wholly believed him, but time over time, she'd come to recognize the lies for what they were. They were a method of power, of staying in control. An excuse to make others follow him into committing horrible acts of violence, all for his enjoyment. She knew what he looked like when he lied, she knew what he looked like when he was coming up with some outrageous tale, and she knew the honest excitement in his voice when talking about his favorite shows as a kid.
She knew what it looked like when he was trying to maintain his importance over a feral group of monsters that he charmed into being collared.
She'd been with Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal a long time, and she'd be damned if she didn't know him.
That was why she wasn't altogether surprised when he came around the side of the house where she lurked when it was over, the eerie glow of orange casting shadows over them both. He leaned against the siding, watching where she was squatted down, taking a leak. She looked up at him and maintained serious eye contact the entire duration of the well-needed piss. They'd been together for a long time, longer than she cared to admit, and she wasn't going to pretend she had modesty in this matter. She gave her hips a shake and stood up, pulling her pants on. She tossed her wig bangs out of her face and said flatly, "How's that?"
He broke into a bright grin and cast a sharp look to the side, spluttering with genuine laughter, as if he'd forgotten her dry sense of humor in all the time they'd been quietly fighting each other these months. "Aw, Jimmy Ink. Sometimes, ya know 'ow ta get me, don't ya?"
I always know, she wanted to snap. And I'd get yer goat if I wanted it, too. You'd lose whatever swiss cheese you have for a brain.
"The Charity went well tonight," she said instead, something he'd probably rather hear than what was really on her mind. "Was he with us, like you said? The Dark One?"
Oddly enough, he was distracted, dismissively saying, "Aye, ya. Certainly so."
He paused, fiddling with his rings, his eyes alive with something dark, his breathing a little shallow as he got closer to her in the midnight shadows. They were close enough to touch, and part of her didn't mind so long as this was as far as it went. He brushed his nose against her cheekbone, and his hand fell to her waist, a controlling weight. They were alone; the others must have found something to distract themselves with.
The slaughter tonight had revved his engine, it seemed.
She recognized the signs, knew them for what they were, and gave him a very bland refusal as she brushed her nose against his, a ghost of old affection. Inside, her nerves were racing with flickers of unease. She remembered last time. Kinda. “Whatever you’re thinking, rethink it fast. You are not getting near me with that mouth, aye?”
Blinking like an owl, Jimmy Crystal stared at her as he jerked his head back. “Whut did ya say to me?” His exaggeration of the word what was near comical, as if she'd just had the audacity to slap him.
The night was young; she still might.
Kellie sniffed, looking away from his ridiculous outrage. The man didn't take rejection well; his ego was fragile. “Take all that 'n push up on Jimmima, won’t you? She might actually be into it, yeah? She might even have a good time.” Not sure how that's possible with a hand around one's throat, though. Where he picked up that idea, she'll never know, but then again, he's always been creative with his Charities. "Don't forget, I already know what you're about, Sir." She added the Sir, as if that would take the sting out of the rejection.
He knew exactly what she was talking about, no doubt about it. He scoffed as though she were making a big deal out of something that wasn't a big deal. Although it was a big enough deal that they'd basically had a bit of a falling out after it, so he couldn't play dumb, the blasted arse. "It was a bit of fun-"
Liar.
Expression empty, Kellie replied, "I didn't have fun, did I?"
He looked around as if looking to be saved from a bad conversation. "What are ya lookin' fer, a wee sweet fuck with some fool that ain't me? I'm what ya got, Jimmy Ink. Me. A Prince in the flesh. And yer ungrateful arse sits 'ere and jibber jabbers complaints-" Sir Lord Jimmy made a gesture with his hand, like a bird jawing.
Her expression tightened up, and again, she wondered why she followed him around this fucked up bit of earth. "How thrilling."
His eyes narrowed, and she wondered if he would be real trouble, if he would say she had to because of his title. He was just sly enough to realize it would only sour her towards him further. He could see her slipping away, month by month, her disbelief in him as clear as the numb look on her face. Maybe he would hit her instead, and he'd keep the rings on when he did it.
They both had their opinions, and neither was gonna budge.
With a hiss, Jimmy Crystal looked away, teeth bared. “Ohhh fuck off then, ya spiteful ole harpy.”
“With pleasure,” she muttered under her breath as she stormed off, not wanting to push her luck. She already felt gutted, because he wasn't what he claimed to be.
It wasn’t fun, the fucking thing. Not with him. They tried it maybe a year or two ago, when they liked and trusted each other better. It had been her first time, and his. And it hadn't been what she expected it to be.
Kellie realized her idea of a good time differed from his, and ain’t that just shite? Prior to the disaster, the feel of his hands against her skin had felt nice, the inexperienced way he touched her, and the way he smiled had made her heart flutter. She'd liked it when he let her sleep near him, curled against his spine, soaking in his natural warmth.
But the night they decided to try something more hadn't gone as she'd imagined in her head. It had been a night very similar to this one, soon after showing charity to some poor souls who crossed their path. He'd been amped up, his pupils blown wide, preaching about his self-importance, and she'd drunk it down, thinking it was about her. It wasn't, because she's come to realize that everything was about him.
{He liked the feeling of his hands wrapped around her throat when push came to shove, the thrill it gave his cock. He wanted the power, the domination. He got hard to the idea of someone feeling pain. And when he was in her, she blacked out from lack of air when she couldn’t claw his stupid hands from her neck.
She’d clocked him good when she came to, livid, humiliated, and hurt. His rings had left deep marks on her flesh, and the swelling had already begun.
Spitting blood from his mouth, he’d said, “What was that fer? Seeking another tumble are ye?” As always, he didn't take the suffering of others seriously. Not even the suffering of another Jimmy.
But she was different. At least, she'd thought she was.
Her voice was thrashed to hell, so everything she said sounded absolutely ruined. She had straddled his chest, kept him pinned, and put her knife to his shite-eating grin, and hissed, “Do that to me again, and I’ll reunite you with your father personally.”
"Are ya threatening me with a good time, Jimmy Ink?"}
She hadn't even gotten out of the shadow of the house when she was roughly grabbed and slammed back against it, vanishing into the shadows once more.
"Actually, naw. I don't think so, luv. Ya don't just walk away from Sir Lord Jimmy."
Furious at being caught, she tried to hit his stupid face, but he already had her wrists in his hands, his entire body caging her in against the wall. His strength outclassed her own, and he was already out for blood tonight. "I will take your rotted heart out with my teeth if you don't let me go right now, Jimmy Crystal."
He huffed out a cruel laugh, and when she tried to bite him, he bit back, his mouth finding that place on her neck that made her legs go liquid. It wasn't fair, and she cursed her stupid body. His hands were traveling across her form as he kept her pinned with his hips. He caressed her sides, felt the swell of her breasts, explored her as if he knew he wouldn't be getting another chance. "Ya used to like when I touched ya like this."
"I used to like a lot of things." She stared him down, breath coming hot and furious. "You minging slag." She attempted to headbutt him, and-
"Oho. Don't make me hotter than I already am. Ya know how thrilling insults are." That was when he brought out the knife, pressing it to her jugular. His voice was disgustingly cheery. "Still want to try me?" His eyes were blacker than hell itself.
She called him all sorts of filthy names, things she'd never say in the light of day, not in front of anyone else. How dare he, how dare he, how fucking dare he...
"You look furious enough to kill me, don't ya?" He grinned, sliding the flat of the knife against her as he rocked his hips. He was between the cradle of her thighs, and she could feel the way he grew harder, his eyes pinned on the way the moonlight glinted off his blade. "None of that, luv."
They were fully clothed.
Neither of them was what she would call experienced in matters of sex. It was pretty much down to a few curious touches in the dark when they lay next to each other, and that one disastrous attempt where he ended up taking it too far. This all being said, she knew at once when his excitement began to overtake his need for torment, fear, and control.
He bit off his own groans, trying to stifle them, his hips circling as he pressed against her. His cock was as firm as it needed to be, and a wet stain was beginning to dampen the front of his tracksuit. His want was beginning to feel like power to Kellie. He was losing control because he wanted to come, and he wanted to come with the person who never quite gave him what he wanted. The one who didn't idolize him as he desired.
The sound of their shared breathing was loud, accompanied by their tracksuits rubbing together indecently. Kellie's cheeks felt hot, and she prayed to anyone listening that Jimmima wouldn't come looking for them. Her sister-Jimmy would likely feel stabbed, but would be twisted enough to probably try and watch.
She wished she was strong enough to push him away, but the reality was that her body was betraying her; she felt hot and worthless as he pressed his firmness against her center. His mouth worked at her throat, finding all the places that made her body tingle, and he sucked hard enough that she knew there would be marks in the morning, to remind her that he'd been there. Her breath came fast, and her mind was clouded.
The knife was going slack in his fingers as his lust for her body grew.
"Drop it, you shit," she hissed in his ear, feeling the way his hips stuttered against her own. He was close, had to be, he didn't need this stupid blade at her throat to get off this far along.
The knife clattered to the floor as he dedicated himself fully to grinding between her thighs, his clothed erection providing just enough friction to be useful. Finally able to relax without that stupid knife of his against her skin, her head fell backward, banging against the siding. She didn't care much about that, riding the wave of heat that grew between her thighs where his sex pressed against her own. "Just like that," she told him, hoping he understood she meant the pace. It felt nice, better than last time. Well, anything was better than last time, she hadn't even been awake for half of it. She could probably train him; that might work. "Just keep-" It was as if she was building towards something intense-
"Shut up," he gritted out, his voice hoarse and ruined. His hands clutched at her hips, shaking with need. "For once, just stop complaining and let it bloody happen."
The small, swollen nub at her front sang with sharp pleasure as the rhythm of his hips continued on repeat. Again and again and again like the tolling of a bell, leaving her without complaint to voice, so instead she pressed her mouth to his ear and moaned her relief at finally getting what she deserved from this transaction. It felt good, being under the strength of his body. The feeling of his hands, clutching at her, as if he needed her. That felt nice.
The sensation of falling over the edge of the abyss grew within her, leaving her biting her lip in an effort to hide the embarrassing sound crawling up her throat. She wanted to pretend she wasn't with him, but she was, and she felt herself break into pieces, arching herself against his heat, briefly wondering what it might have felt like if he were actually inside of her this time. He growled, hips thrusting against her once, twice, thrice before he went still, a soft whine in the back of his throat that was nearly endearing as Kellie trembled in his grasp, feeling the sweat drying on her forehead.
She stared up at the stars, mindless for only a few moments. Reality hadn't settled in yet.
His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her neck, leaving her shivering in the aftermath, feeling the heat of his breath against her skin. He wasn't Sir Lord right now, some self-aggrandized prince of darkness. He was just a man, being ruled by a very basic need. If he wasn't always Sir Lord Jimmy, then was he ever really? The lie was slowly unraveling in her mind.
She left him panting against the side of that sorry house, hating herself, hating him more. Her eyes burned, and the self-loathing spiraled inside of her. She let him get the best of her. How could she have let him do that?
She wasn't going to give him the chance to ask her how's that, because she didn't have it in her to fucking answer without pushing her fist through his face.
When they acquire the saddest little Jimmy she's ever seen, Kellie found herself feeling something that she wasn't sure she'd felt before. She questioned if it was a maternal feeling of sorts, that maybe this is what women felt when they had a real child to take care of. She was nearing thirty herself, never had a child aside from the beasts that traveled with her, and none of them were like this wide-eyed little boy who carried his entire heart in his gaze.
He didn't fit in; she knew he wouldn't the moment he went and accidentally laid down a killing wound upon Jimmy Shite in defense of his own life. He was a survivor, but he wasn't a savage. The boy wanted to live, and he was scrappy enough to get by, but not vicious enough to want to harm other people for it. Her stomach was turning over as she watched him, day by day, seeing the despair crawling over his face like an open wound.
The way the Jimmys lived was eating him alive from the inside out. She didn't enjoy watching his innocence die. She didn't feel much of anything most days, but pity was slowly finding its way into her darkened heart. She came to this realization while they made camp, watching the way the teen separated himself from the group once more, sitting alone in the dark. She was sitting next to Sir Lord Jimmy by choice this evening, watching the others bicker and roughhouse around the fire.
They were sitting together side by side in a rare moment of camaraderie. She could feel the heat of his side against her own, always a furnace that was welcome against the chillier days. "The Initiation Ritual was wrong," she told him quietly, because they were close enough to be conspirative. It was a perfect time to be insubordinate. She's not forgiven him for making her weak, that time in the shadows of that wretched house, by those crispy bodies on a witch's pyre. Maybe he hasn't forgiven her either. "He's not cut out for this."
"What are ya whinging about, now?" Jimmy Crystal drawled in reply. "Ya know me dark father doesn't choose wrong, if that's what yer insinuating, all snakelike."
She pursed her lips and refrained from rolling her eyes. Was it pathetic that carrying on a futile argument with the Sir Lord was the most fun she usually ever had? "He's no Jimmy, that's what I'm saying."
"'course 'e's a Jimmy! Just look at the lad." His ringed fingers gleamed in the firelight. She keenly remembered the feel of those fingers digging into her skin, and her eyes glanced over his mouth, not wanting to remember how it felt when he kissed her throat.
She quit looking at his mouth and instead looked at Jimmy Crystal as if he'd gone daft. "He's Spike in a platinum fuckin' wig, Jimmy."
Flashy to a fault, Sir Lord Jimmy made a flamboyant gesture with his hands, saying in a low tone, so the others wouldn't hear, "Are you questioning his commitment to me and the Dark One?" The way you always question me these days, was left unspoken.
They held each other's gaze for a long moment, the push and pull between them being the dance of a liar daring the skeptic to call him out on his shite. "Shut up," Kellie said, finally resting her head on his shoulder, exhausted with him. Sir Lord allowed it with a pleased grin, thinking he won the battle.
He didn't, but she was good at letting him think he had.
The little one was hers, she decided as she stared across the campsite. The Spike in a Wig. She would protect him, he would stay in their little group, and as he grew older, he would be on her side. That's what good sons did, right? They were loyal to their mothers? She wouldn't know.
All she had was Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal, and he was loyal to no one but himself.
***
When the smoke and the mirrors crumbled to ash at the Bone Temple, the first person Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal looked to was her. There was a realization in his gaze, a knowing that the dark magic charm he'd been pulling over them all was no longer a tiara to wear on his head. He was no longer a Prince, and they both knew what was coming next, the end of this everlasting power struggle between them.
Kellie smiled grimly. She was going to make him pay for all the years he lied, so that he might walk her on his fucking leash. She'd always suspected he'd been lying.
Now, she knew that she'd been right all along. He was just a man after all. He was no Prince.
After hammering in the final nail, she leaned close and whispered in his ear as he trembled, for once completely in her power, "How's that, luv?"
END