Page 44 of A King So Savage

“You aren’t so different, Kingston Winter. I’m sure you were the same then as you are in this moment. Cold. Calculating. And heartless.”

Kingston didn’t respond, although his lips pressed tight. Ava couldn’t possibly know how true her accusations were. What would she do if she found out he’d killed his first man on his father’s orders when he was just sixteen? How would she react if she knew his father demanded he and Oliver participate while he forced women into sexual acts? Alan Winter called it sex education, but it was nothing more than a fucked-up way of desensitizing his sons to violence and a woman’s screams.

Sometimes, he even commanded his boys to join in.

The last woman his father terrorized was Oliver’s mother. Kingston still sometimes woke drenched in cold sweat, hearing his stepmother’s screams even in his sleep. And the dual gunshots from that fateful night haunted him still.

When he slipped Rebecca that pistol for her own protection, Kingston never imagined she would turn the gun on herself after killing his father. Or that Oliver would witness the entire incident and blame Kingston for her death. He only wanted to help the woman he’d grown to love. Once he realized Rebecca’s intentions, it was too late. She’d easily manipulated him while carefully planning his father’s murder and her own suicide.

Kingston pushed his thoughts aside when they finally reached a room on the third floor. Ava entered ahead of him and cautiously examined the space.

It was close to his own suite of rooms, occupying the opposite end of the same wing. The large, airy space was impeccably appointed in shades of green and grey with a lovely view of the distant mountain range. But there was nothing remotely personal about it or the décor. The attached bath was also perfectly bland and perfectly perfect. No one had ever actually slept in this room, now that Kingston thought about it. It was just one of several unused spaces in this huge, lonely mansion.

Ava walked over to the windows and peeked past the thick drapes. When she turned and gave him an unfathomable stare, Kingston gestured about the room.

“There is a double lock on the door, as you can see. I expect you to utilize it whenever you are in here. Paulie or Jack will guard you when I’m not physically with you. You can pick up practically any channel you desire on the television, but access to the internet has been disabled.”

“Are there cameras in this room, too?” Ava demanded, her brow knitted with concern.

Kingston considered telling her the truth but decided against it. “No.”

She scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I really don’t care if you do or don’t.”

Biting her lip, Ava hesitated then asked softly, “Was that story true, then?”

She was referring to everything Oliver said. And the reluctant pity in her gaze infuriated Kingston.

“Most of it,” he bit out, burying the pang of guilt he always carried.

She sighed, appearing genuinely distressed by his admission.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea. Everyone knew your dad and stepmom were dead, but there was very little gossip about the details of your mom’s passing. At least, as far as I’m aware. But I probably would have listened to rumors anyway. My parents shielded me from a lot of the unpleasantness of the world. And Carson was always so mean, I would have never sought him out for comfort or an explanation of why people did such awful things.”

Kingston leaned a shoulder against the door jamb, watching the play of emotions cross her face. Seeing how her eyes softened. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like how her sympathy made him weaker. Nor did he like the fact her brother wished to bargain for her release.

“Who shielded you when you learned of your own parents’ deaths?” he asked rather brusquely.

She was startled by the question, which wasn’t surprising. Ava Blue was so incredibly innocent. She had no idea of the crimes committed by her own flesh and blood.

“I don’t understand…” she stammered. “I didn’t need shielding. The accident was unexpected, but still, it was an—"

“Accident,” Kingston finished for her with a sardonic smile. “One day, I’ll enlighten you on what that word means in certain instances.”

“Enlighten me now.” Ava’s chin tilted high. “Because you’re speaking in circles. Are you suggesting my parents’ deaths were caused by something other than a tragic car crash?”

Stalking toward her, Kingston was gratified when she retreated a few steps. She was still frightened of him, and that was a good thing. It was best she remain terrified of his intentions. “Now is not the time for such in-depth discussions.”

Her eyes narrowed when he reached out, tucking a bit of silky blonde hair behind her ear. “You are avoiding the subject,” she accused.

“Yes.” He continued advancing until she finally retreated far enough to hit the bedroom’s far wall. “One that is off the table for the moment.”

“Then I’ll ask another which should be easier to answer. Why did you punch Oliver?” The question was so softly spoken, Kingston was forced to lean closer to hear it. The fragrant scent of delicate honeysuckles drifted up from her hair and surrounded him.

“Because you are not his.”

“I’m not yours, either,” she reminded him, even though tiny quivers rippled beneath her skin. “Why do you care if another man touches me? Hurts me?”

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