Page 12 of Hostile King

4

CARINA

I swallow hard, conscious of the burning skin around my throat.

Tomás runs his fingertips lightly over the glistening bite marks on my breasts one last time and exhales a controlled sigh. The intense look in his eyes suddenly shutters, his emotions flipping from eternal remorse to completely unreadable.

Every inch of his nakedness gleams in sweat. He arches over me, his heavy dick still furious from punishing me so hard. I want to lick it, to taste his saltiness like I’ve done countless times before.

It shouldn’t arouse me, not after he took the breath from me and refused to give it back until the very last second. My uneven pulse trips, unable to beat at a regular tempo.

Without saying another word, he carefully climbs off my prone body and jumps down from the black granite slab marbled with golden threads. The carved ridges of his back muscles flex in sequence with every movement. His blank expression lurks in gloomy shadows as his mood freezes under a rock-solid layer of ice.

I know from experience how his mind betrays him. When he had busted André’s nose there was only a speckle of blood to deal with. Somehow, I was able to reach him, to find his whirlpool and replace the plug. Only this time, there was treachery, lies, fear, and a threat to his sovereignty in the mix.

Blood sprayed across him like the paint technique he’d used in his abstract artwork. It’s no wonder he freaked out. I would have too. He might have lost control, but he eventually found a sanctuary within me, just as I’ve located mine in him.

“We need to go,” he says gruffly, stepping into his trousers and fighting with a haphazard leather belt. “Wear this.” He grabs the bloodied shirt off the ground and offers it to me. “I’ve ruined the dress. This is all I have. I’d rather you didn’t wear the filthy fucking thing, but I won’t parade you about naked for anyone to see. A chopper will take you back to Bogotá once you’ve showered.”

A visible shiver runs over his shoulders. My mind races, unsure of what this means for us now and what his plans for my future would be.

“Tonight?” I snatch the grubby dress shirt and throw it over my shoulders. “Are you coming with me?”

He shakes his head, standing there before me bare-chested, arms folded, and his wild gaze honed in on my neck.

“No. You’re free to go.”

“Free to go?” I scowl at him.

When I swing my legs over the edge of the rectangle box ready to jump, he suddenly stalks forward and scoops me up like I’m a weightless doll. With one arm behind my shoulders and the other under my knees, he silently carries me away from the chamber and into the passageway.

“Tomás?” I stare at his soiled complexion and stormy eyes.

My lungs struggle even though we’ve left behind the suffocating tomb and entered the lush landscape teeming with life.

“Don’t,” he mutters, dropping me to my toes on the damp planks near the tombs entrance. “Your contract of employment is officially terminated. I don’t need you anymore.”

Frustration and hurt gloss my eyes. Rogue flutters of anger burst inside my chest and push their way into my mouth. My pride takes a beating even though he eyes me with the same hunger as always.

I’m not the silly girl I once was. Experience has turned me into fiery lava capable of destruction. A raging ocean that could sink sea vessels and welcome monsters. I’m a survivor and a warrior fit to take on any king, even him.

My temper surfaces like a jumble of spitting hot rocks. “I hate you.”

As the curse rushes out, my hand sails through air, and connects with the unsullied side of his tortured face, taking us both completely by surprise.

He blinks, taken aback by my audacious move. I turn icy as Tomás goes rigid. My toes dig into the wood, sprouting roots to give me strength.

“Do it again.” His command strikes like a bolt of lightning.

My belly clenches, caught in a loop of regret and justification. Slapping him the first time was a reaction. To do it a second would be premeditated violence.

Tomás crowds me, using his height to threaten without our bodies touching in any way. “Do. It. Again,” he bites, the order much slower this time.

“No.”

“Do it.”

“No.” I fist my hands by my hips, keeping my arms tight to my sides.

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