Page 73 of A King So Savage

“Goddamn whore… I’m gonna rip you in two. Bet you’ve never had a cock as big as mine inside that little cunt of yours,” Malcolm muttered in frustration as she struggled. His free hand dove between their bodies. “I like a little fight in my women, so keep doing what you’re doing. Damn, I’m gonna fuck you until you bleed.”

“Stop. Please, stop. You don’t understand who I am. Why I’m here.” The words tumbled from her lips, a scream close behind them. She strangled it instead with a babbling explanation. “Carson Blue is my brother.”

Malcolm paused and Ava almost wailed in relief. Kingston’s very name was enough to curtail rape. Was that enlightening bit of information horrifying or a diabolical form of salvation?

“No fucking way…” Malcolm grinned. “Blue’s little sister? The one Oliver grabbed? I heard about that. Before I cut off contact, he told me all about snatching you in that hotel. A true-blue virgin, am I right? Well, this might just screw everyone’s grand plans, but I’m still gonna get what I want from you. I don’t even care if it pisses Oliver off.” He trailed a finger across her lips, his eyes almost black with sadistic pleasure. When he suddenly slapped her, he also violently shoved two fingers into her mouth until she gagged in pained surprise.

With a laugh, he mimicked the motion of a blowjob. “Hell, you might even like getting fucked by me. And don’t worry,” he bent closer and whispered in her ear, his breath moist and oily, “Winter won’t be the boss much longer. He won’t ever have a chance to miss the money you would have made him.”

Ava hardly understood what he was saying. She could think of nothing other than the fact he was choking her. Her teeth clamped down on the thick digits jammed into her mouth. She bit so hard that tangy, metallic fluid welled and pooled under her tongue.

Malcolm yelped, snatching his fingers free. He glared at Ava. “Fucking bitch.”

Ava spat in his face, knowing it would mean another blow from the hands holding her with such cruelty.

“When my dick is painted red with your blood, I’m gonna take a photo of it so I’ve got something to remember you by.” Malcolm’s vow was guttural. Brutal. “And then you’re gonna lick away the mess left behind.”

He kissed her again, harder this time. Crushing her with the weight of his body, leaving her with no hope of escape. She tried kneeing him in the groin, but he simply laughed, blocking the futile attempt by wedging his knee between her legs and forcing her to widen her stance.

He slapped her again, and as if from a distance, Ava heard the jingle of his belt buckle. The rasp of a zipper. And an unfamiliar roar that must have been a freight train bearing down on them both.

One moment, she was pinned against the wall, and the next, there was empty space where Malcolm once stood.

Something sticky and dark red splattered across her chest. Ava stared at it, then looked up, puzzled by the abrupt disappearance of her attacker.

Grunts. Thethwackof fists slamming into skin. Bones crunching. Two bodies grappled before her, and with terrified clarity, Ava understood what she was seeing.

Kingston, clad only in a pair of sleeping pants, had the other man down on the floor. He straddled Malcolm, repeatedly punching him in the face. Without mercy. Without thought. Without hesitation.

Malcolm fought back, but even as large as he was, he was no match for Kingston.

Because Kingston fought like a tornado of fury, his fists unrelenting. Every strike sent droplets of blood spraying through the air in a fine mist. It was soon smeared across his bare chest like war paint, dripping from the lion tattoo’s fangs as though inked into his skin. His knuckles were coated in dark red, and Ava stared in transfixed horror as Kingston eliminated the threat to her safety.

“You dare touch what’s mine?” Kingston roared, the words punctuated with fierce blows to Malcolm’s face. “Youfuckingdare? I’ll slice you open from end to end and use your entrails to hang you by your worthless neck.”

After a while, Malcolm no longer fought back. Gurgling whimpers issued from swollen lips and misshapen features. Ava stood in numb silence, frozen in her spot against the wall until Kingston finally stopped pummeling the man.

Cold, starlit, dark blue eyes lifted to hers. His hair was still damp from the shower, the strands curling around his ears. Sweat glistened on his brow.

It took some effort to beat Malcolm to a pulp.

Ava shrank away, melting as best she could into the wall. That possessive light in Kingston’s eyes was terrifying. The rage on his face solidified her belief that he was nothing more than a monster. He’d just beaten a man to the point of death right in front of her.

But simmering below all of it, emanating from Kingston’s entire body, oozing from his very pores was something entirely unexpected. It swirled between them, curling and binding the two of them until Ava could barely breathe from the pressure.

Fear.

For her.

Kingston slowly rose from Malcolm’s body, his intense gaze never leaving Ava’s. He was splattered with blood, bare chest heaving with exertion as he stepped over the man he’d just crushed. The lion tattoo emblazoned upon his chest seemed to roar with victorious satisfaction. Real blood dripped from the fangs, mingling with ink until Ava thought the beast was truly breathing. A living thing. Ready to tear her apart, too.

Like a conquering savage, Kingston reached a bloodied hand toward Ava and cupped her chin.

“Did he hurt you?”

Instead of shrinking away from this man, instead of hiding from the husky growl of concerned violence in Kingston’s voice, Ava inexplicably leaned into the warmth of his palm. Her own hand slid up and clasped his wrist while he held her immobile beneath the weight of his dark blue eyes.

“A little,” she whispered. “But you… you stopped him before…”

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