Page 7 of Hostile King

“That’ll stop you fucking wriggling about, puta!” I crash onto a plastic sheet and a boot to the ribs forces all the air from my lungs in a pathetic scream. “Make another sound and I’ll cut your throat. You’re a dead woman anyway.”

My veins run ice cold. Dread seeps into my bones and the blood coursing through my limbs tingles with poison. A cruel chuckle is hidden behind the leader’s hand as he tweezes the short layer of scruff on his weak chin. The poorly detailed lion tattoo, faded with age, roars as his thumb and forefinger move. I see it. And he sees me.

My temper flares to nuclear.

I knew there was something off about the stranger with a hand tattoo. André displays hands of ink, but when we met there was never a whispering thread of familiarity, not like the shiver of revulsion I got when Paco had confronted me.

At the start, I had chosen not to believe him. I inwardly begged the universe for his villainous insight to be false, until I heard Tomás confirm it himself. Both of these men are emotional terrorists who’ve used my weakness against me. I inch towards Tomás, rolling the dice, drawn to the devil I know, waiting for his answer to my question.

“Did you feel anything for me?” I repeat behind clenched teeth.

“What do you think?” he growls, stepping his dress shoes forward to reach me. To take control over the hapless girl he thinks I am. “I’ve never lied to you. Not once.”

“Stay where you are.” I blink at him, aware of the sweat trickling down my spine and the deadly cold steel trembling in my hands. “You didn’t tell me about her.” He swallows before his mouth opens as if he’s about to speak. “It doesn’t matter, Tomás. None of it matters anymore.”

My heart pounds as he drags a hand down his face, his expression torn. The untouchable sovereign stares at me, not with the eyes of a hateful destroyer, but with the eyes of an all-powerful man who made my existence shine once upon a time. The bittersweet truth tastes better than regret.

My eyes catch his, the bond between us harder to fight when his inky pupils spear me, his gaze hiding something that whispers right through me. Call it a gut reaction or a blazing sign from the universe, but it unequivocally connects us.

“The day I met you, I landed in a nightmare.” I begin as every part of me shakes. “You held me against my will, to fulfill your appetite for power.” Tomás flinches, his trained reflexes twitching to grab me. His chest rises as he listens to my gutsy voice. “You pulled my hair, kicked me into submission, and drugged me.” I continue, gazing up at his sudden frown. “But then I met Tomás, and he turned those nightmares into fantasies. He saved me. I never knew anyone until I knew him.”

My aim jumps left, fixed to Paco who had silently crept up beside us gripping a flaming torch. As if reading the chemistry sparking between the king and his mistress, he takes a swipe. The fire only narrowly missing us when Tomás shoves a shoulder into him. Paco stumbles, his ankle giving way, so he crashes to his knees.

“You tied my wrists and transported me here as a worthless whore for Elias. Not to assassinate anyone.” The rifle wobbles, but my aim remains fixed. “Youassaulted me.Youdrugged me.Youdidn’t care. Which makes you the real monster, asshole!” I hiss, the words sharpened like razors to cut his devious plan to tatters. The second the final word passes over my lips, I don’t hesitate.

“You all underestimated me.”

I squeeze the trigger and witness a whoosh of lead soar through the air like a missile. Except the bullet tunneling into Paco’s skull isn’t from my rifle. I had aimed at his chest. The one I freed is a fraction of time slower than the bullet Tomás fired.

Paco’s defunct body sinks to the planks, brain goop seeping between the wooden slats and glossy blood spilling from the hole I’d made in his heart.

Heavy footsteps sound in the distance. Voices yell. The hem of my dress catches under the soles of my feet, the golden sheen dulled by shadow. Grabbing a handful of material, I pivot to find Tomás frozen. He stares at me for the longest second, his expression morphing from man to beast.

I helplessly observe the transformation, how anger ripples through his tense form and his beautiful features darken ready for a rampage. The richness to his glorious eyes turns a hue so strikingly evil it's horrifying. He doesn’t emerge from darkness—he becomes it.

The temperature dips to below zero, his polar disposition colder than arctic ice caps.

He’s spattered in blood, fragments of gore had sprayed across his trimmed scruff, and dappling his pristine dress shirt. The carnage decorating him with the one thing I know has switched his decency to diabolical.

Wild eyes drill into the fingertips dabbing my mouth in panic. His lungs rise and fall in bursts. Whatever happens next would be cataclysmic for all of us.

“She’s got a rifle.” Armed soldiers burst from the darkness, climbing out of low-level bushes, and clattering along the wooden pathway towards us. “Hands up!” I spin around where I’m pinpointed as a target who’s still clutching a murderous weapon.

It happens in a blink. There’s no hesitation. No second thought. Just a surge of strength knocking me off balance. Tomás’ mighty weight crushes my stomach from above, the sensation overbearing. The rifle falls from my hands and skids into the undergrowth.

“Don’t shoot,” he howls, the texture to his voice so cut up it feels like he’s bleeding from within. “She’s off fucking limits. Do not shoot. I’ll punish her for having a weapon.”

I momentarily freeze, unsure if the man I know exists behind the monster wrestling with me.

Punish her.

That comment could mean so much. Unadulterated pleasure after erotic pain or something far darker that I’m not prepared for. Either way, the masculine soul unraveling under twisted vines and flickering flames isn’t a gentleman. He’s out of his mind.

“Get off me,” I wriggle and kick, bucking my hips into his and finding his dick rock hard.

When merciless fingers hollow my cheeks, I notice the flare of his pupils, the quick intake of muggy air, and the moisture saturating his now translucent shirt.

“Carina…” A snarl snaps past his white teeth. Cold eyes gleam as if he’s begging me, pleading with me to help him. “I’ll fucking ruin you.” His nostrils widen as he fights for air. “I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”

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