Page 87 of Heavy Is The Crown

Krys stilled, listening. The second the faint clang of glass against the counter echoed through the quiet house, Musa lifted his massive head from the foot of her bed, his ears twitching toward the noise. He inhaled sharply, then exhaled, the weight of his presence shifting as he pushed up onto all fours.

Krys knew better than to stop him. This was his house just as much as it was hers.

Silently, Musa padded out of the bedroom, his heavy paws barely making a sound as he moved down the hall, his head low, posture relaxed but alert. If there was a problem, he’d handle it.

Krys followed a few steps behind, barefoot, the silk of her robe clinging to her body as she moved through the dimly lit corridor.

By the time she turned the corner, Musa was already in the kitchen doorway, his hulking form blocking her view. His deep, rumbling breath filled the space as he took in the sight before him.

Then as usual, a low, unimpressed huff.

Kenyatta, standing at the counter, shirtless, with a glass of water in his hand, looked up and froze at the sight of the beast in front of him.

Musa’s sharp amber eyes locked onto him, calculating, reading. Deciding.

Kenyatta let out a breath, raising his free hand in surrender. “It’s just me, big homie. We cool, remember?”

Musa’s ears twitched. He exhaled through his nose, then shifted his weight slightly; not fully approving, but not disapproving either.

Acknowledged.

He took two slow steps forward, deliberately closing the space between them, his eyes still locked onto Kenyatta’s like he had a final thought on the matter.

Kenyatta didn’t flinch.

Musa gave him one last hard stare, then a low, bored grunt.

Krys rolled her eyes. “Really, Musa?”

At the sound of her voice, Musa exhaled again and finally stepped aside, allowing her into the kitchen.

Kenyatta chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip of his water. “Yeah, nah. I’m good with keeping him on my side.”

Krys walked past Musa and grabbing a wineglass from the cupboard. “Smart thinking.”

Kenyatta leaned against the counter, his eyes dragging over her slowly. Her bare legs. The silk robe. The way the dim light hit her skin.

He exhaled, shaking his head again. “You always walk around like that?”

Krys smirked, stepping further inside. “It’s my house, Yatta.”

Kenyatta chuckled, shaking his head as he took a slow sip of his water. “That answer ain’t helping me right now.”

Krys raised a brow, reaching into the wine cabinet. “And why is that?”

Kenyatta set the bottle down, watching her. “You know why.”

She felt the heat in his stare everywhere.

Musa huffed dramatically from his spot near the doorway, flopping down onto the cool marble floor with a heavy thud.

Kenyatta glanced at him and smirked. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Chill out.”

Krys shook her head, amused. “You really talking to him like he understands you?”

Kenyatta shrugged. “He do, though. Right?”

Musa blinked once, lazily, before resting his massive head on his paws, fully aware of the tension in the room but clearly uninterested in it.

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