Page 9 of Hostile King

The minute my gaze finds hers, the fog swallowing my mind thickens. She’s panting, doubled over as she inhales, arched over the camouflaged box of guns I had placed in this very tomb under my father’s instruction.

“Stay away from me, Tomás,” she chokes out when I kick off my shoes. “Let me go.”

My nostrils flare in response. “No fucking way.” I bite her suggestion to pieces with gnashing teeth.

Sable curls, now looser than before, stick to her heaving chest and cling to pastel pink cheeks. The subtle glow of recessed bulbs fixed within the floor, illuminate her figure-hugging dress so she's lit up like an Egyptian queen.

“Please…” she pleads. “You’re scaring me.” And that confession right there should make me back off, instead it excites me unlike any impulse I’ve ever had.

The enormous hand-poured cement casket which houses Papa’s lavish coffin is the only thing separating us. Just like before, even in death, he’s getting in my way. Except, I had disregarded his request to kill her once before, and tonight I won’t let his interference stop me from claiming her.

Only she had shot the lying motherfucker too.

She would have killed Paco herself if my bullet hadn’t won.

She is loyal to me.

And she put herself in danger.

My men were about to wipe her out. The fear of that alone interrupted my glitch. However, it didn’t mend the flaying rupture in my soul. How landing on her warm body electrocuted my senses.

My balls tighten with fire, the ache to claim her so deeply ingrained in my psyche that she’d never be able to refuse me. The excruciating need to have her eats me up until I’m choking on the lust she’s feeding me.

She shuffles backwards, a little weary of my next move. Delicate shoulders roll, ready to confront me at any second. Her ass brushes over the bronze plaque, the etched sign with my name on it. The cavernous empty hole above it is my personal grave. A parting gift from a father who lost his mind in the end. And now I’m following in his footsteps.

Each of my brothers have their own resting place in this fucking creepy bunker in the middle of nowhere. I shudder, an odd thought of eternal loneliness frosting my tense muscles.

Carina licks her lips and straightens, pressing a hand over her heart as if it’s broken. Her lithe body vibrates with the same undeniable need I’ve seen in her countless times. So much so that her nipples strain against the fabric of her tight dress and her eyes glaze with filthy fantasies.

But her hesitation…it slays me.

She’s unsure—scared. Yet I’m too far gone in no man’s land where whistling memories trigger fatal deeds.

The celestial sight of her through the haze makes her dreamlike. Carina isn’t my enemy. She’s the unknown password to soothe my inner hell, and the only gift of purity I’ve ever had.

I don’t deserve her.

And she doesn’t deserve this.

An impulse to thread my fingers through her hair and force her to kneel almost cripples me. It tests my self-restraint and argues with the hunger to punish her peachy ass.

“Come here,” I command, my throat so dry the words crack and splinter.

“No!” She shakes her head. “I’m not your fiancé.”

Fuck!

I’m up, then down. Raging, then capsized. Powerless, then energized. If she’s not careful I’ll trip into the dark hole I’m so desperately trying to scrape my way out of.

My teeth bare at her, so she flinches. “It’s a tactical move. Business. Nothing more than that.”

She traces her old scar with one hand and hugs her stomach with the other. It fires up every possessive cell in my body, so the concrete mass between us can’t shield her anymore. When the black mist I know so well finally catches up with me, I dart forward, my pace quicker than hers when she tries to get away.

Grappling with her waist, I spin her around, so our chests collide with such a jolt we both gasp. She wiggles and squirms, doing her best to push me away.

“I want to go home.” Her little voice activates something feral within me. “I’m done playing games.”

I grab her chin, pinching either side and suddenly notice dried blood stains on my fingers. My throat works as I stand before her, a fucking psychopath caught in a sexual snare. This won’t end well if she tells me to stop.

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