The Heir (The King Dynasty #1)

26. A True Taking

Chapter twenty-six

A True Taking

Three Weeks Later

I thought I knew what being kidnapped felt like, but truly being kidnapped does interesting things to your psyche.

The day that I was taken from King was one like any other, really. We were getting into the swing of our marriage, finding our normal. Long nights of lazy lovemaking were followed by interesting, exciting days of beginning to expand our business at King Dynasty. Sweetie had taken from sleeping on King's chest to now curling up on my belly.

Three weeks after we announced my pregnancy to our families, I'd gotten up early on a Tuesday morning, and didn't feel sick. Relishing a brief reprieve from morning sickness, King lured me into a nice warm shower where we spent more time kissing than we did actually showering .

His lips grazed mine ever so softly, and I moaned at the feel of his fingers sinking into my hair hampered by the clip holding it in a massive pile on top of my head, keeping it from getting wet. I'd grown to appreciate and love these moments with my husband. So far, he hasn't expected me to, or even let me, shower alone. He takes any opportunity to steal all the intimate moments he can with me, and so far my favorite moments are when he uses his hands.

Seems I'm a physical touch girlie. Who knew.

"Hey, cook breakfast with me before we go in?" I'd whispered up at him, loving the way the water sluices through his hair, over his body, and beads up on his skin just begging me to lick off the little droplets.

The shower was steamy, nice and warm. His soapy hands alternated rubbing up and down my back, and making circles on my belly.

"Hmmm…" he hummed, arching an eyebrow at me. "That sounds nice. What are you thinking of having?"

"Omelets. I love making them. They're so fun." I'd laughed, excited at the prospect of doing something so mundane with him.

"Ohhh, omelets huh? How ironic."

I'd giggled and leaned into him as he massaged my scalp. "Why's it ironic?"

"Because they're my favorite." King kissed the grin off my mouth.

Oh how I miss his kisses.

"Is it really?" I'd replied in a teasing tone.

"Hmm-hmm." He'd pulled me close, rubbing his nose along mine. "I like it with spinach, ham and extra cheese. Do you think you're down for all the fixin's baby?"

I'd burst out laughing. "King," I'd gasped, wiping a tear from my eye. "How do you manage to make that sound dirty? Are you really that depraved? "

His eyes flashed as he reached past me to turn off the shower, snagging a towel and wrapping it around me. "No," he exhaled deeply. "I'm not depraved at all when it comes to you, love. Even if we spend the night not having sex, just the feel of your skin on mine is more than enough to satiate me."

He'd led me out the shower with a hand on my back, so gentle.

So caring.

Reaching into a small cabinet, he'd grabbed my bottle of anti-nausea medicine, pulling out a pill and handing it to me.

"Oh, I actually feel good, King. I don't think I need it." I'd said, pouting my lips and waiting patiently as he got me a cup of water and made me take it anyways. "I'm so looking forward to my new client tonight!" I'd gushed, excited to be back on track with my career.

He'd gestured for me to sit at the vanity where he took the time to comb my hair. He'd shared with me about two weeks ago that it's something he'd been wanting to do, and well, as a good wife, I make concessions where I can.

But truth be told, him combing my hair is my very favorite part of the morning.

I'd rubbed moisturizer on my face and turned to pick up his hand, inspecting it. He'd waited patiently as I worked to lather his hands with cream, making sure to massage his muscles as I go. The intimacy between us is something that I know I'm so lucky to have, so I hold it close to my heart.

We talked about nothing that morning while we got dressed. And afterwards, we walked to the kitchen arm in arm dismissing the servants, preferring to be alone. We chopped vegetables, beat eggs, and put on a slow rock station while we worked He assures me once again that he wants a girl .

"With your fiery spirit," he'd said as he put the toppings into the skillet.

I'm reminded of just a few weeks ago when I was begging Christopher to make breakfast with me, and he wouldn't. And here I was with a charismatic, powerful man that has way more responsibility under his belt than Christopher ever did. A man who'd dismissed the servants just to make omelets with his wife.

We stood side by side at the stove, trading looks and little touches. "Do you know we've made love thirty-eight times?" He'd whispered in my ear.

A little thrill went through my being as he pulled me close to him, tucking me under his arm.

I'd snorted on a laugh. "What?" I'd said, looking up at him. "You've been counting?"

"Yes," King laughed as he placed an omelet carefully onto a plate, and sprinkled extra cheese on it. "For you, my queen," he'd said with a wink, making me blush and tighten my lips in an effort to hide my smile.

"Thank you. So what's the plan for today?" I'd asked, taking his plate as well and walking over to the breakfast table where he'd set a out a jug of orange juice, and then held my chair out.

For some reason, the way his fingers brushed over the skin of my neck made me shiver. The simple touch radiated through my being, and it's what I latch onto when I go to disassociate later on in the day.

"Just the usual. Meeting after meeting after meeting." King hummed with pleasure as he took the first bite. I love he enjoys my cooking.

"Well, I've got a meeting around three this afternoon. I have a new client who wants me to do her entire house, and I have been waiting patiently to do a walkthrough so I can get started on her design!" I'd said excitedly.

King's face brightened as I talked a little about my work. This is something that he and I tread a very thin line regarding. Though we met through work, we don't let it overtake our entire relationship. The rest of the day goes as normal, and King even came to visit me at lunch to make sure I'm still doing okay. Blair gave me a cheeky wink as she showed him into my office, but other than him giving me a chaste kiss on my lips, nothing inappropriate happened.

Looking back, oh how I wish it would have.

"Oh Mrs. Ripple, stop that!" I giggle, feeling a blush so hot it makes me dizzy.

It's hours after my lunch with King, and I'm at my client's house in the late evening. This consultation took so long that I begged Xavier to sit in the car and wait for me, promising him I would text him before I walked out the building.

Mrs. Ripple, a woman in her mid-thirties who had just gotten married to some wall street broker about a month ago, was tasked with redoing their entire three story townhouse.

"Come on, Isobel, call me Meghan. There's absolutely no need for formalities, especially after what we just went over." Mrs. Ripple looked conservative in a deep purple pencil skirt, a white long sleeved sweater and high heel shoes. But her demeanor was completely laid back, yet as harmless and fun as the sex room she wanted me to design as a surprise to her husband.

I think it's cool because it's a very feminine sex room .

"Okay, Meghan," I laugh. "I think we have a solid plan. I can start with the main rooms now, and give you a mock up in about two weeks. Then I'll start working on the-the…." I pause, contemplating a more appropriate name for that room than just a 'sex room.' "Den of iniquity," I say with a smile. "And can have that to you in about a month."

Mrs. Ripple bursts out laughing. "Den of Iniquity? I love it!" She wipes a tear from her eye and sees me to the front door with a hand on my arm. "Hey, you be careful out there; it's sprinkling," she warns, opening the door and then giving me an affectionate squeeze.

"Oh I think I'll be okay, thank you." I walk out the door and then glance around, seeing I forgot to let Xavier know that I was headed out the door. It's darker than I anticipated, and the streetlights turn on. Their warm orange light giving the street a comforting glow.

I step down about three stairs, trying to dig for my phone but I can't find it. My eyes scan the street quickly for the black vehicle King forces me to utilize now. However, there's only street parking and I can't see our car.

"Dammit, ooofff course," I mumble angrily, feeling the drizzle start to full on downpour. "My hair!" I complain.

Sucking my teeth, I walk the last couple stairs to the sidewalk and I plop my purse on the brick half fence which cages in Mrs. Ripple's front steps and some tall, skinny bushes. I'm digging around, trying to find my phone when a sick, icy cold shiver makes it's way down my spine and raises the hair on the back of my neck.

I pause all movement, snapping my head up and over just as a tall, stocky man dressed in all black in a black ski mask appears from beside me. Before I can process or even scream, he takes me by my hair and slams it straight into the brick fence, stunning me.

Pain radiates through my entire being. It even tingles in my toes .

"Ohh!" I gasp, going to grab my head, but the man snatches me up, forcing my arm behind my back. "No, God, please no! Don't do this. I have money," I whimper, trying to blink past the stars that are dotting my vision.

"Walk!" the man grunts, dragging me from the entryway to Mrs. Ripples stairs.

"No!" I yell, finding my voice again. I collapse, making myself dead weight. "No plleeassseee, please! I have money! I can pay you anything you want!" I screech.

I whip my head around frantically, seeing no one on the street. Squinting, I see a pair of legs and dark boots partially hidden at the corner of the street, just laying in the sidewalk. Rain works to wash blood down the washed out concrete.

My eyes widen, seeing I'm in some deep shit. Through the pain, I remember that I can't let them take me to a second location. It's either get away, or die trying.

Just then I hear Xavier. "Mrs. King!" he shouts.

Seeing my bodyguard I'm temporarily relieved, but before the feeling can settle in good, another masked man with red hair steps out of the bushes next to me and points a gun firing at Xavier, and I see him go down.

My lips part in fear.

"Noooo!" I scream, jerking in earnest as the man walks past me, headed to Xavier with the gun pointed at him. He fires another shot and then I hear the front door burst open. My head whips over, screaming for her to get inside.

"Isobel!" Mrs. Ripple yells, running out the door with a bat. "Let go of her!"

"No!" I screech, truly terrified .

Distracted from Xavier, the redhead man turns and fires at Mrs. Ripple. Her body jerks before she drops hard, falling and rolling down the rest of her concrete stairs. She's completely still, her eyes open and unseeing. My heart pounds and my knees collapse, only to be hauled up by this stranger that has my arms behind my back.

My shoulders twinge, pain suddenly slices through my back, and I feel the tip of a knife is pressed against me. I shudder, feeling my breathing erratic. "Walk!" The man shouts in my ear.

I nod, trying not to lose control over my bladder, but with every step I take, I feel a little leak out. The redhead man, with his back to me, steps to a nearby car and opens the trunk.

My blood runs cold.

"Kill me," I whisper. I make myself dead weight again. "I'm not getting in there so you better fucking kill me!" I yell.

The redhead walks to the driver's side and then slides in, ignoring me.

Exhaust from the tail pipe billows up as the car starts, tickling my nose. This man, who's got my arms yanked up so hard they feel like they're about to dislocate, yanks me to his chest and then next thing I know, a needle is being shoved deep into my neck, followed by a cold sensation.

The fact I'm being drugged pisses me off more than the fact I'm being kidnapped for some reason.

Feeling my hair currently plastering to my head by the rain, I bare my teeth and growl. Ignoring the searing pain in my arms, I lean against him and pick my feet up, bracing myself against the bumper of the car. We struggle against each other for a few seconds before the knife digs into my side slightly deeper, causing me to whimper and my strength to falter as I instead fight to try and grab the wound. But I can't get loose to reach for it, making me even more irate.

Unfortunately for me he gets me in the trunk, slapping me across the face so hard I gag, fighting the nauseous feeling of needing to vomit. The hit distracts me enough for him to tie my arms behind my back. As he raises his arm to grasp the top of the trunk, I roll my neck and look up at the pure gray of his irises through his mask.

He's got a wicked slash through his eye.

"I'm going to make you fucking regret putting your hands on me," I hiss.

Then I'm forced into darkness, and what feels like the longest ride of my life. So long, I'm knocked out cold before we get there.