Page 13 of King's Claim
It made her angry.Angry at him, angry at herself.
“Don’t think for a second this means I trust you,” she said, her voice tight.
His eyes glinted.“I’d be disappointed if you did.”
She blinked.“What?”
“Trust is earned and I haven’t earned yours yet,” King said.
The wordyethung between them, heavy with promise and threat.Lena swallowed hard, fighting the shiver that wanted to run down her spine.
King tilted his head, studying her.“C’mon.I’ll show you where you’ll stay,” he told her.
He led her through a back hallway, away from the roar of the clubhouse.The sound dulled behind them, replaced with the echo of their footsteps.The hall ended in a set of stairs that led up to quieter rooms.
King opened one door and stepped aside.“This one’s yours.”
Lena glanced in.It was small but clean.It contained a bed, a dresser, a narrow window.Not much, but more than she’d expected.
She hesitated in the doorway, arms crossed tight over her chest.“So that’s it?I just stay here now?Like some damsel locked in a tower?”Lena asked.
King leaned against the wall, arms folded, his gaze steady.“No.You stay here because it keeps you alive.That’s the only thing that matters right now,” King told her.
“You want to be angry at me, be angry.You want to hate me, go ahead.But you’ll be breathing tomorrow, and that’s what counts,” King said, softening his voice.It unsettled her more than his roughness ever did
Lena’s throat tightened.She didn’t want to admit it, but he was right.He was always right, damn him.Worse, King looked at her then with something that wasn’t just command, wasn’t just authority.Something that made her pulse flutter treacherously.
She tore her gaze away, stepping into the room.“Fine.But this doesn’t mean anything,” Lena said.
Behind her, his low chuckle followed like smoke.“We’ll see,” King told her.
That night, Lena lay in the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling.The muffled thrum of music from below pulsed faintly through the floorboards.
She should’ve felt safer here.She was surrounded by men who could tear the Serpents apart.No one would dare touch her under King’s watch.
Yet, her heart still raced.Not from fear this time, but from the way King’s eyes lingered.The way his voice roughened when he spoke just to her.The way her body betrayed her, drawn to a man she knew was nothing but danger.
She turned onto her side, pulling the blanket tight around her.This wasn’t safety, this was fire, and she wasn’t sure how long she could keep from getting burned.
****
King sat alone in thedim corner of the Devil’s Crown clubhouse, nursing a glass of whiskey.He took a gulp and the liquid burned down his throat.King hoped it would dull the restless thrum under his skin, but it didn’t.
It wasn’t the Serpents he couldn’t shake.King had dealt with scum like them his entire life.It was Lena.Every damn time King closed his eyes, he saw her face, pale under the bar’s flickering neon, those sharp eyes meeting his without fear.
She was too young, too soft, too innocent to be anywhere near a man like him.He’d bled, killed, and carved his way through a world that devoured innocence whole and yet Lena hadn’t flinched.
The whiskey didn’t help.Neither did the women hanging around the clubhouse tonight, dressed to tempt, ready to spread their legs for anyone wearing the Devil’s Crown cut.
Usually, King could take what was offered, burn off the edge, forget for a while.However, tonight?Nothing mattered.
Because he could still smell Lena’s soap when she got close to him, faint but maddening.He could still hear her voice from the call earlier that day, hesitant but threaded with a steel most men didn’t have.
Now she was here, working behind the bar in the clubhouse, because King refused to let her keep working at The Pit Stop and her mother needed the hospital bills paid.
King dragged a hand over his jaw, the rough scrape of his beard grounding him.This was a mistake.Bringing her here, into his world, was the last damn thing he should’ve done.But what choice had there been?Leave her out there as easy prey for the Serpents?
He slammed the empty glass on the table, the sharp sound cutting through the thrum of music and laughter.He poured another, but the liquor only made his head heavier, his thoughts darker.
