Page 61 of A King So Savage

Kingston laughed under his breath, the dark chuckle sending a tremor of fire-sparked awareness through Ava.

“But I enjoy being the bad guy, Ava. I like it when people are afraid of me. I like not having others get too close. You should give it a try. Less of a chance of you getting yourself hurt. Or worse, letting someone down after they placed their faith in you.”

Ava peered up at him, surprised by the bitterness of that unprovoked confession.

As though aware he’d revealed too much, Kingston’s mouth twisted into a cold grimace of a smile.

“I don’t want to damage you to the point of brokenness, but if it becomes necessary, I will not hesitate. When Carson fails to pay, you will accept your fate. You will become mine in full. And whatever manifestation that takes, you will submit.” His dark blue eyes scrutinized her. “Are we agreed on this, Ava?”

Ava shivered at the implications of being his until the day he eventually tired of her. What would become of her then? A bullet to the head or a miserable existence spent on her back as a sex slave? “It’s not fair I should pay the price for my brother’s greed.”

Kingston inclined his head. “We’ve established how unfair and wrong this situation is. It’s also unavoidable. I don’t forgive debts, lamb. Someone must pay.”

“Lucky me,” Ava muttered as another shiver racked her body.

“Come back inside the house now,” Kingston commanded in his usual calm, collected manner. “You aren’t dressed for this kind of weather.”

With his long strides and the grip of her wrist, Ava was left with no choice but to totter after him. As they entered the mansion, she cursed herself for being so stubborn. The effects of that last glass of wine left her woefully unprepared to protest Kingston’s handling. Even though fury boiled inside her, she still followed her captor.

By the time they reached Ava’s luxurious prison on the third floor, she was definitely lightheaded and disgusted with her own weakness.

The wine had her head spinning, her brain struggling to make sense of Kingston’s actions and words as well as her own. Why did she keep swaying between acceptance and desire and heated resistance to this man’s intentions?

“Here you are,” Kingston muttered as he swung open the door and tugged her inside.

Ava practically fell into the room. She caught herself just enough to land on the edge of the bed instead of ending up sprawled across the floor.

“Careful now.” Kingston quickly helped steady her before stepping back. But in a telling gesture, his hand moved from gripping her shoulder and slid along her jaw. And Ava nuzzled into the warm cradle of his palm before snapping back to awareness.

With a shake of her head, Ava pushed him away, then bent with the intention of removing her shoes. Her fingers fumbled with the tiny straps wrapped about her ankles. Angry tears formed but she blinked them away.

Kingston stopped her, gently pushing her upright. Those blue-black eyes glittered as he stared down at her. His jaw tightened in recognition of her inner turmoil.

“Let me, Ava.”

Before she knew what he was doing, he sank down on a knee. Lifting one of her feet, he placed it on his thigh, not seeming to care when the stiletto heel dug into his flesh.

He unfastened the delicate buckle on the thin strap. When his fingers brushed her ankle through the thin barrier of the silk stockings, an involuntary moan fluttered in Ava’s chest. Kingston’s hand was a flame against her skin, and there was no defense against it.

A tiny smile lifted the corners of Kingston’s lips as he slipped the shoe from her foot. He admired the expensive bit of footwear for a moment before setting it aside. Placing her now bare foot on the floor, he lifted the other and made quick work of the remaining shoe’s strap and buckle.

“Do you do this for all of your women?” Ava whispered, dreading his answer and yet unable to keep the words from spilling out of her mouth. Jealousy consumed her. Stupid, foolish envy she had no business entertaining. He was her enemy. Her captor. And she should be fighting tooth and nail to free herself rather than staring at him in simpering adoration.

Kingston glanced up from beneath a sweep of dark lashes. “Only the ones I’ve taken captive.”

Ava fell silent, her tongue twisted with both longing and disgust that she felt anything at all for this man.

Slipping the shoe from her foot, Kingston sighed. “You intrigue me, Ava, if you must know the truth. I should not have this compulsion to keep you. Or even to help you. And yet, I cannot stop thinking about you. How sweet you taste. How gorgeous you are in your defiance.”

Ava’s mouth tightened. She wasn’t quite sure how one responded to an admission of obsession.

Kingston still did not rise from his kneeling position. Instead, he fixed her with a probing stare while his hands moved up between her thighs. His palms slid over the silk stockings until they finally reached the lace banding which kept them in place.

“I find myself kneeling before you frequently, lamb.” He tugged the stockings down her legs, carefully slipping them past her knees and ankles until the flimsy pieces fluttered away like rose petals. “Too often for my own peace of mind. Too often for my liking. I don’t like it. A king does not kneel to his slave.”

Ava’s eyes closed with the reminder of her status. She had no rights in The Den. No status or privilege. Everything she was given was dependent upon this man’s capricious, cruel whim. “I’ve not asked it of you, Sir.”

Kingston’s fingers coasted over her skin, charting a path toward the inner softness of her thighs. His lips pulled into a slight frown upon hearing the voluntary use of the title he’d demanded of her.

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