Page 15 of Hostile King

TOMÁS

After everything that’s happened, she must hate me.

I know it.

And rightly so.

I’m not the man she deserves.

Or the villain who’d end her life.

The woman brave enough to tolerate me isn’t a hapless subject who bows to a blood-thirsty king.

So, I’ll simply send her away with a tidy fortune and cut all ties.

That’s the magnificent, grand plan where invisible boundaries exist and too much space keeps her from me.

But it’s a huge lie–there won’t be anything simple about it.

The second she had stomped away from me with a promise of never ever on her lips, my heart exploded into pieces. Each mangled sliver formed its own pulse, collectively combining a rhythm so intense the beating almost cracked my ribs.

I gambled with her life by inviting her into my world—a selfish risk. A flutter of butterfly wings that caused monumental consequences days later. The sex we had was more than just filthy. It had her searching in my darkness for answers and me floundering in an emotion I tried to fight off.

A crackled voice comes through on a walkie-talkie. “Are you still with Tomás?”

My eyes cut to the soldier walking with me who promptly answers the radio. “Yeah.” He glances at me. “We’re on our way to the hangar. Shane and Gio have the General hung up on a hook by his boxers.”

There’s a distant yell over the airwaves. “Tell him the girl bolted. She’s at the airfield trying to board a chopper.”

Fuck!

I’d given her the order to shower. My men were instructed to take her back to the house while I grilled the General about my father’s murder and then hacked his traitorous head off like the snake he is. I had planned to have time with her before she left for good.

Wehad time. Even if it was brief.

“Give Spitfire the order to stay grounded until further notice,” I bark, the soles of my feet slapping the path until I’ve broken into a sprint.

She’s trying to leave before we officially say goodbye. Before I can kiss her lips one last time and give her the money she deserves. Not for her company, or even the sex, as a gift from a guilty beast to his forgiving beauty. To make freedom that little bit more comfortable.

My hurried strides eat the wooden slats until I no longer have them beneath my heels. Hurtling off the path towards the hangars, I cover the manicured lawn surrounding the airstrip with predatory speed.

It doesn’t take long to pinpoint Carina under the floodlights, still wearing the bloodstained shirt I’m dying to incinerate, and surrounded by security. Messy tendrils spill over her narrow shoulders, her golden eyes wide with anger.

Get the shirt off her.

Strip the revolting garment from her tortured frame.

Make her stay whatever the cost.

My hands twitch the closer I get, maniacal thoughts of punishment rebel against my better judgment. Water jets wouldn’t erase teeth marks or red welts dappling her flesh. Dried blood is easily removed, but the threat of death can never hide.

“I told you to get a shower.” I dig my nails into my palms the tighter my fists clench. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? You’re not flying anywhere dressed like that. Get inside, Cari.”

She freezes on my approach, her fingers instantly grazing her scarred mouth. “Stop calling me that.”

I hadn’t noticed the transition from sweet little liar to Cari. It’s a thoughtless changeover or a significant shift. I doubt I’d ever say her name out loud again after today.

Prowling towards her, the revulsion I have for the blood drying on my face doesn’t affect me, not in the same way it used to, not when I’m consumed by this woman’s close proximity. She stands in front of a black chopper refueling for the planned journey to whisk her away.

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