Page 49 of Blood

I’ve gotten careless, forgetting I’m in a ring with a King. Loyalty will always go to his patch, his brothers, and his father. I feel like he’s doused me in gasoline and lit a match. “You sound just like him.” I lift my chin, eyes squinting.

“Like who?” His muscles twitch.

“Tyler,” I taunt, irritation spiking in me.

“I’m nothing like that bastard.” He dumps the cut and paces again. Resting his hands on the dresser, he dips his head.

“He said the same thing. Wouldn’t take action,” I say to his back.

“This is why you came here. You thought you’d find her killer and…do what, exactly?” He throws his arms out, facing me again.

“Kill him.” I stretch to my entire five-feet-six-inches.

“Then what would happen to you?” His eyes search mine.

“I don’t care.” A tear slips free. My arms curl around my body to keep me from breaking. The used towel from his shower last night lies in a heap by the end of the bed. How different things seemed a few hours ago.

“It’s fucking reckless. Tyler just let you go off with this suicide plan?” he roars, swiping his arm across the dresser, knocking everything to the floor. I leap as coins pelt toward my feet.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

The sound of our heavy breathing fills the air. “I don’t need Tyler’s permission. I can do as I please.” I want to believe that.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” He smears a hand across his mouth. That’s what Tyler said too.

“Do you make it a habit to kill women?” I scorn, gnashing my teeth. It’s a low blow, but I don’t care.

“Only if they push our hand.” He looms over me, the reaper flashing in his dark eyes.

I’ve been so busy craving him, falling for him, that I’ve forgotten who I’m dealing with. A killer. “Is that what Harley did?”

“For fuck’s sake, Rogue, we didn’t have anything to do with her murder. We don’t butcher kids.”

“‘There’s no mercy for sins against a King,’” I say, repeating his argument back to him.

“What was her sin?” His stance is wide, tall, confident.

“I don’t know—the fact that she was a Devil? Her insignia tattoo got cut from her skin.” A cold snake winds around my body, squeezing.

“That sounds more like something her club would do. Maybe you need to be having this conversation with them.” His chin juts out. I blanch, the accusation an assault. My childhood plays through my mind, a movie of memories.

“That’s absurd. They raised her—loved her.”

An unamused snort jerks his head. “Yet, here you are, alone, searching for her murderer.”

Tears sting my eyes, the hollow hole widening. All the fight sags out of me, exhaustion taking over. We’re getting nowhere.

“What about you?” he asks, the predator in him taunting. “If being a Devil means a sin against a King, wouldn’t I kill you?” He waves a hand over my body.

“Maybe you will.” It feels a hell of a lot like death right now.

“Do you have this tattoo?” One look at me, and he sees the answer in my eyes. He shakes his head, irritation ticking his jaw. “Where is it?” He sneers, his large stature embedded in the center of the room. Silence. “Show it to me.”

“No.” I cross my arms and turn away from him, going over to his bed and sitting.

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