Page 78 of A King So Savage

Ava’s jaw clenched. She wasn’t one of those women. She was too smart for that. Too practical. Too aware now of the darkness and how easily she could fall.

Wrenching open a random drawer, she found stacks of neatly folded Henleys in every dark color imaginable. Another drawer revealed jeans she’d never seen him wear. Yet another contained crisp, white t-shirts so blindingly bright they couldn’t possibly have ever been worn.

One drawer held an impressive collection of watches. Expensive and subtle in their richness, they nestled in perfect, orderly rows on black velvet.

A tiny part of Ava hoped she might stumble upon a weapon. A gun. She could have saved herself from Malcolm’s attack if she’d had one.

She shook her head at that train of thought. She didn’t know the first thing about firearms, but perhaps it was time she learned. The useless pocket-sized can of pepper spray sitting in the bottom of her long-gone purse was ample evidence of that.

Having a more formidable weapon when Oliver snatched her from her hotel’s elevator might have resulted in a different outcome.

Ava recognized herself in the rigid order of Kingston’s private belongings. She’d always been meticulously neat. All the pieces of her life had been organized and categorized, at least until her parents died. She’d fallen apart at first, devastated by grief before realizing her emotions could be shoved into manageable little boxes. Fear went into one. Pain, another. Abandonment by her brother had its own box, as well.

Peeking into the precise perfection of Kingston’s life, seeing this tiny slice of his mysterious soul, made Ava both dizzy and strangely elated. Evidence of his personal control over himself and those surrounding him echoed her own need for order. And it spoke of pain. Deep, savage pain which could only fester and swirl until it found outlets.

When a small photograph framed in black onyx caught her eye, she could not help herself.

Picking it up from the shelf, she studied it. It was a photo of Kingston and his mother. He was just a toddler and she was a gorgeous woman with long dark hair and sad blue eyes. Her arms were wrapped gently around her child. She wore a smile for the photographer, but it was an empty, meaningless emotion. Given for someone else’s benefit.

That photo ripped Ava’s heart in two. Kingston was chubby, his pink cheeks glowing with the innocence all babies possessed at that age. He had no idea what would happen to his mother. To his life.

Sadness swamped Ava as she replaced the photo on the neat, orderly shelf.

What did it mean when she ached to whirl through his things like a tornado? Destroying and disrupting his life as hers had been. She wanted to make him feel…something.But what? What good could possibly come from Kingston facing his demons? What good could come if she faced her own?

Nothing. Nothing good will come from this. And yet, I am on a collision course with this man. We will crash and twist together in violence. We will wreck each other until nothing recognizable remains in the carnage. Do not fall for this man. Do not fall for his darkness. His cruelty. His arms that hold me tighter than I’ve ever been held before. It’s all an illusion. I can’t trust it. Can’t trust him.

But what else could she do? He owned her now. Like a little doll purchased in secret. He pulled her strings, and she must do as he said to stay alive and in one piece until she could escape this madness.

Sliding the towel from around her body, Ava tossed it over a low bench and stood naked. She did not glance about the closet, ashamed to see what would reflect back at her in the multiple mirrors.

Those mirrors illuminated everything, and she could hardly bear to witness the moment she accepted her fate. The moment she became Kingston Vaughn Winter’s property. Like these perfect stacks of clothing and his valuable watches and exquisite cufflinks. She was nothing more than a lost, little soul hanging around like an expensive suit, waiting for her turn to be used.

Snatching a t-shirt from the drawer, Ava quickly tugged it over her head. It hung to the tops of her thighs, the fabric so soft and encompassing it was as though Kingston himself was wrapped around her. It even carried the faint, lingering aroma of his cologne beneath the crisp scent of laundry soap.

Ava quickly exited the closet and returned to the bedroom. There were two sets of double doors inside the main room. One set in the French style opened onto a lovely terrace. Paved with flagstones, it overlooked both the swimming pool and the rugged mountains in the distance. A small creek meandered below it, escaping the forest and tumbling over rocks as it flowed past this portion of the mansion.

Ava wished she could sit on that terrace. She would sip a cup of tea. Center and ground herself in the quiet stillness. Regroup her emotions and decide how she would survive this.

Those doors were locked, however, as were the second set of solid oak doors on the opposite side of the room. A keypad on the wall allowed entry, provided she had the correct fingerprint. Which she didn’t.

It was just as well. Those doors concealed a mystery, one Ava currently had no interest in solving. She was too tired. And too numb.

Sighing, she picked up the shattered remains of the sculptured chair, stacking the pieces neatly against one wall before drifting back to the bed. Then she climbed into the middle of it, grabbing a feather-down pillow and squeezing it tight. Sheets of crisp, cool cotton surrounded her, and she was so tempted to sink back into the oblivion of deep slumber.

But there could be no sleep with the threat of Kingston’s imminent return. He would punish her for running. For placing herself in danger.

And she deserved it.

He would have everything now. Her obedience. Her body.

Her soul.

ChapterTwenty-Seven

We can destroy the world

And everything standing between us

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