Page 7 of Devoted Sinner

Just when Bryson thought he might jump from the bed, King’s heavy arm draped over him and hauled Bryson against his chest. King let out a content-sounding sigh. Bryson bit his lip to keep from smiling like an idiot. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

King hadn’t been lying about being ready to face the day. He wasn’t the least bit tired. He was used to going out late on Friday nights and staying gone the entire weekend. King partied at a club meant for people who matched him. It was the only time he felt free. But—somehow—here he was, holding Bryson. His body knew it was Bryson. Oddly, rather than being ready to fuck—as he would have expected—King just wanted to hold him and let him sleep.

Someone had tried to kill Bryson. That thought kept racing around his brain. Bryson wasn’t taking the threats against him seriously enough. King didn’t know how to force him to consider his safety first. The weekend guards should have left whoever shot up the place alive long enough to be questioned, and then put a bullet in their head. Now, they were no closer to ending this.

“Holy shit! Oh my God! Where is my dad? Was he hurt? Where is he?”

King bit back a groan at the sound of Kylian’s shouts. Bryson never stirred. King quickly rolled from the bed and grabbed his still bloody pj pants, since they were the only thing he could find in the dark. He slipped into the hall before Kylian woke Bryson.

Kylian’s blond hair was a mess. His blue eyes were wide with horror. They seemed to double in size when his gaze landed on King. “No. Is that Dad’s blood?”

King made a calming gesture. “It’s mine.” King motioned toward his stitches. “Your dad is fine. He’s sleeping.”

Kylian’s brow furrowed. He leaned to one side and eyed King’s bedroom door. “With you? He’s straight.”

King wasn’t surprised. “No. He stayed with me while I got stitched up and passed out before Dr. Young left.”

Kylian’s expression cleared. “Oh. Sorry. What happened here?”

As much as King didn’t want to worry Kylian, someone needed to be concerned. “Someone shot up the house. One of the weekend guards killed whoever it was before anyone could be questioned.”

“Are you okay?”

He had always liked Kylian. The kid was smart as hell and seemed genuinely kind. “I’m fine. Everyone is just a little exhausted.”

Kylian chewed his bottom lip and stared at King’s door. It was obvious he wanted to rush inside and check on his dad.

“If you want, I can wake him so you can check on him for yourself.”

After a moment, Kylian’s gaze slid his way. He looked young and vulnerable. Innocent. King had never been him. “No. I know you’ll take care of him.”

King dipped his chin. “If you plan to be around later, I can send him your way when he wakes up.”

Kylian nodded. “Okay. I’ll be around.”

King nodded back and watched Kylian walk away before slipping back inside the room. He locked the door behind him. After stripping, King eased back into bed.

As King draped his arm over Bryson, Bryson spoke, surprising him. “Thank you for keeping him calm.”

“He’s a good kid.”

“I don’t know where he gets it from,” Bryson said, sounding thoughtful.

“I do.” King didn’t need to ponder that question. Bryson was a good man. At least, he was the best man King had ever met.

“About what Kylian said.”

“Go to sleep, Bryson.” Whatever Bryson had intended to say next; King didn’t want to hear it. For now, he had a small fantasy just for himself. One where Bryson fell in love with him—warts and all. They lived a normal life and King got to be happy and free. In the back of his mind, King knew it was only a dream that would never come true, but it was his. If Bryson confirmed he was indeed straight, that dream was dead, and it was all King had. He couldn’t have it taken away. Not yet.

Chapter Four

Ittooklongerthannecessary for King to dress for work. Maybe he was getting old, but his stitches pained him more than he recalled. As a child, he had been tortured nonstop daily. He thought he was immune to pain, but it had been a long time since he needed stitches. King had gone years without getting his ass handed to him. He was out of practice. Life had gotten too soft. That didn’t stop King from wincing as he pulled his suit jacket on and buttoned it.

After some deep breathing, he slipped on his house shoes and hoped no one noticed. The cuts and stitches on his feet protested every step while barefoot. It was much worse with shoes squeezing his feet. Try as he might, he couldn’t completely hide his limp as he made his way from his bedroom. When he reached the dining room, he was already sweating.

Kylian and Bryson looked up from their breakfast.

Bryson scowled. “I told you to take today off.”

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