Page 16 of Kaya's King

“Specks, I-I-I don’t know what to say right now,” she sobs out, now clutching my t-shirt. I can feel the heat from her hand as it brands me, and mentally admonish my cock for deciding to stand at attention and join the conversation. Now is not the time for me to physically react to her nearness, but he’s not listening to common sense.

“Nothing to be said, babe. Mom brought him home, I went and got the prescription filled at our local pharmacy and when I came home, I found him unresponsive and my mother in the midst of a breakdown. I called 911 and watched the paramedics attempt to revive him for twenty minutes, before they advisedme they had to transport him to the hospital so he could be pronounced dead.”

“Why didn’t they tell your mom instead of hitting you with that burden?” she asks.

“Because she was so hysterical, one of the paramedics sedated her since she was actually getting in the way and hindering them from trying to help Tommy,” I respond.

That day burns like an endless loop in my memory, the playback button is stuck on repeat. The incessant, excruciating vision of seeing his pallor so fucking gray with purple lips, his neck extended, and the muscles striated as he struggled to draw air into his damaged, mucus-filled lungs. I lost my best friend that day even though his death opened up my life once again. I’d have gladly spent the rest of my school years being stuck between four walls, homeschooled alongside him just to hear his voice, see him grin as he bested me at a game, help him with basic tasks. We were close, closer than a lot of siblings, because I was the one who helped him with his bathing, taught him how important it was to follow the doctors’ instructions. My mom did the best she could, but the medical community failed her.

Failed me.

But most of all, they failed Tommy.

“I’m sorry, Specks. That had to hurt so much, losing him like that,” she whispers against my skin. In reaction to her hot breath kissing my skin, goosebumps rise along my arms as my mind goes to a time where she’s doing that in a different, combustive encounter, specifically, one that has us wrapped around one another, lighting the sheets on fire, and prone on a bed with her writhing in pleasure.

“I think that’s why I’m so invested in what the doctors are doing with Noah,” I confess. “I know already you’re nothing like my mom, you're tougher, and won’t sit back and accept the doctor’s words at face value. But I don’t want the medical association to fuck you over and cause him any more torment than he’s already dealing with, you know? The two of you have crawled behind the wall I’ve had up for a very long time that shields me from investing myself in a relationship,” I reveal. “I’ve never thought of having an old lady, or hell, even a family.”

“Why not? Seeing how you are with Noah, you’d be a good dad,” she confides, looking up at me.

“Because I’m not sure I can father a child,” I acknowledge. I’m conflicted, scared to tell her the rest of my history, then shake my head in admonishment. Without second guessing myself, I’ve faced insurgents head-on, dove into pitch black, murky, churning waters to rescue people, and hell, even survived a helluva motorcycle accident. So why does the thought of telling her my deepest, darkest secret scare the ever-loving shit out of me?

“Why can’t you?” she persists.

Sighing, I decide that I can trust her with those skeletons that I’ve never willingly pulled out of my proverbial closet. “After Tommy was born, my parents found out that both of them carried the gene that puts a child at risk of being born with cystic fibrosis. There was a one in four chance of it happening and because I was born healthy, they had no clue until Tommy came along. Once I was an adult, I had the genetic testing done and I carry the gene too. There’s no way in hell I would put a child through what Tommy endured, Kaya. What woman on earth would want to get involved with me knowing she might notbe able to have a baby who likely will suffer from a physical and medical disorder?”

“So, let me get this straight.Bothparties would have to have that chromosome, correct? But onecouldhave it and the othernotand the baby wouldn’t be born with cystic fibrosis?”

“Exactly. If she didn’t have the gene, then at least that wouldn’t be an issue,” I confirm. “Until now, it’s not been an issue for me because I didn’t think I’d ever find someone I’d want to be with for the rest of my life and create a family with.”

“You’ve never had a girlfriend or a long-term relationship?” Skepticism drips from her with that question.

I hide my grin because she almost sounds indignant on my behalf. How the hell do I explain to a citizen, one who’s not familiar with the biker lifestyle, that we don’t typically have girlfriends. We have hook-ups with women who want to walk on the wild side and show off to their friends about how they got them some biker cock. Granted, after Jayna pulled her shit back when Poseidon first brought Lilli home, we opted not to have club girls around, but still, we do have the occasional parties where town girls come in scoping us out, searching for a wild, unencumbered ride.

“No,” I finally answer. “Kaya, I’ve never had to worry about pussy, or getting a woman into my bed simply because first, I was a Navy SEAL and the uniform alone drew them in, then when we started the club, a lot of women want a walk on the wilder side of life before they settle down.”

Great, now she’s going to think my bed has a revolving door if the look on her face is any indication. Her nose is scrunched up in distaste even though her cheeks are beet red. “It’s not myplace to judge anyone,” she slowly drawls, “but you’re saying there are women out there who treat sex as casually as some men do?”

“Yeah, babe, there are and until Poseidon’s old lady came on the scene, we had club girls,” I admit. “They lived on our property and made themselves available for any of the brothers who needed to let off some steam.” Her nose scrunches up again, causing me to chuckle. “Not all of us took them up on their offer, Kaya. I, for one, have never been interested in getting my dick wet with a woman who’s bedded all of my brothers on multiple occasions. But, to answer your earlier question, no, I’ve never had a long-term relationship or girlfriend.”

“What’s so different now, then? What’s changed?” she quizzes. I find myself losing my train of thought as soon as her chocolate-brown irises catch my gaze.

“You.” One three-letter word that has the power to completely derail my life in the best of ways. This woman, she’s changed everything I ever thought I wanted. Makes me want more, to be a better man, for both her and Noah.

CHAPTER

SIX

Specks

Seeingthe question shining in her eyes, I recite, “You changed things for me, Kaya. You’re so independent, so fucking strong. Even though you don’t need someone protecting you, I want to be the one that fills that role. I want to be standing alongside you, be your partner in raising Noah, helping you when you need a steady shoulder to lean on, showing you every single damn day how a queen should be treated.”

“A queen, huh?” she teases. “Would that make you my king, Specks?”

Chuckling, I pull her closer then kiss her temple. “I guess so. It has a nice ring to it, too. Kaya’s king.”

Mentally, I’m designing a matching set of tattoos for Kaya and me even though we’re obviously nowhere at that point in our relationship…yet. But that’s a key component, an extension of who I’ve become, a chunk of the man I am now; I prepare for every eventuality. I’m always stepping two paces ahead, predicting the future and what needs must be met to keep everything on track. In fact, I’ve already checked into the other houses on the property to see which one would suit our family unit… fingers crossed that what I want happens. At this point, I’m not willing to accept anything less than her and Noah being mine.

“Well, the kids where I used to live called me the trailer park princess, so being elevated to a hierarchical queen status is a step up,” she says, giggling.

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