Page 41 of Slay King

She let out a sigh and closed her eyes for a minute. The pale color was back, and I was torn between picking her up and carrying her up the stairs or going to find Doc D and ending his life.

“It’s fine. Maeme was there. He kept me covered with a gown. It was quick and over. Please, don’t go. I don’t want you to leave.”

Fuck. I took several deep breaths and kept my eyes on her as I fought off the need to murder. He’d still touched her. Been where no one belonged but me. I stood there, staring at her as she watched me, waiting for my next move.

Mine. I’d claimed her without thinking. Called her mine. I wanted to see Doc D bleed out because he had touched her. This wasn’t me, and it wasn’t like anything I’d experienced before. The painful grip on my chest, the insane possessiveness.

“Okay,” I said, knowing I couldn’t leave her after she begged me not to.

I wasn’t sure I could do anything she didn’t want me to do. That was … eye-opening.

Her grip on me eased, and she rubbed where she had been holding on to me so tightly. “Thank you.”

The tightness in my chest wasn’t letting go though.

Then, she laughed. A soft, musical sound that felt like a balm over the monster that had possessed me. Calming him.

“Why are you laughing?” I asked, unable to keep the smile from spreading across my face.

How was it that she controlled my mood?

“You were going to kill a doctor for giving me a much-needed checkup,” she said, then shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

Her color was back. The rest of the tension inside me eased. She was okay.

“I thought you’d already established that,” I said. “Last night.”

She laughed again and then gave me the sweetest fucking smile in the world. “Yes, I guess I did.”

Backing her up until her back hit the wall, I caged her in. “I’m gonna need to make sure I stake my claim now. Remind you who you belong to.”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. I reached up and tugged it free before lowering my head and covering those full, pouty lips with mine.

• Seventeen •

Y’all might come in different wrapping, but inside, you’re all the same. Smart, calculating, and you wield your pussy like a weapon.

Rumor

She was the first girl he’d tied up and whipped. That kept replaying in my head.

Even with his arm around me as he slept, I stared at the wall, unable to do the same. He would be leaving with her in two days, and since yesterday, when I’d overheard Thatcher talking about Scotlin being King’s first and him not being able to keep his dick out of her, I had felt dread slowly seeping in.

What if she offered it to him this weekend? He wanted it. He craved it, yet he never asked me to go to the tack room. Now … well, now, even if he asked me, I’d have to say no because I had another life in me to think about. When what we were doing started to bore him and he went back to his different women and his kink, I’d be left with our baby. My baby.

I tried to close my eyes and shove it all from my mind, but it was proving impossible. I needed to focus on the good. Not the bad or the what-ifs. I had money. Maeme had said I had a lot of money. When the Insantos were no longer after me, I’d be free to live life normally. I wouldn’t struggle to pay the bills, and I could give my baby a safe, comfortable home. I could love him or her enough for both of us if King chose not to be involved. Regardless, I’d have my own family. I’d have a child to love, take care of, raise. It wasn’t all bad. I had to remember that.

A phone rang, breaking the silence, and I jumped, startled. King tensed, then released me to sit up and reach for his cell beside the bed. I rolled onto my back, watching him as the screen lit up, illuminating his face. He took my breath away. My chest ached at the sight of him. I loved him. I had his child inside of me. That was more than I had ever had before. This wasn’t bad, considering the things I’d faced and overcome before him.

“Yeah? Okay, my dad will be there. Shit. Fine.”

He dropped the phone down onto the bed and muttered, “Fuuuck,” while rubbing his face with a hand before turning to look at me.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

His scowl softened. “The alarm system outside the perimeter of my house went off. Scotlin is there and freaking out. My father is on his way, but I have to go meet them.”

Scotlin. I was beginning to hate that name. I swallowed the emotion suddenly clogging my throat. Was my new brink-of-tears reaction something that came with pregnancy? I didn’t like it. Making myself vulnerable and showing that vulnerability were two different things. The former I could normally hide well.

---