Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
A mara almost felt like a new person as the steam from the shower began to fade, and the fresh clothes on her skin offered a semblance of comfort. But as she stood in front of the mirror, towel-drying her damp hair, reality came crashing back. Her reflection was almost unrecognizable.
The sweater she’d put on hung loosely on her frame, slipping off one shoulder to reveal the fading outline of a bruise that still hadn’t fully healed. She traced it absentmindedly with her fingers, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her cheekbones appeared sharper now, her skin pale and drawn. The hollow look in her eyes unsettled her the most. Once bright and full of life, they now seemed dim, almost vacant.
Amara sighed, running the towel through her hair again before tossing it aside. The truth was, she didn’t just look different. She was different.
Before all of this, she had been strong, confident, and sure of herself. Every decision she made was rooted in certainty, and every step forward was taken with purpose. She’d always prided herself on being independent, capable of handling whatever life threw her way. But now? Now, she barely recognized the woman staring back at her.
Her shoulders slumped as she leaned against the counter, gripping its edge tightly. She hated this version of herself. This scared, unsure woman who second-guessed everything, who didn’t know where to turn, what to say, or even who to trust, was a stranger to her.
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to cry. She’d done enough of that. Crying didn’t change anything. She wanted to scream at her reflection and shake herself awake, but she just stood there, frozen in a moment that felt like it stretched forever.
Amara straightened with a deep, shuddering breath, forcing herself to look into her own eyes. She didn’t like what she saw but wouldn’t let it defeat her.
“You’ve made it this far,” she whispered softly to herself, the words barely audible. “You can keep going. You have to.”
She touched the bruise on her shoulder one last time before pulling her sweater back into place. Amara didn’t feel strong, but a tiny spark was still buried deep inside her, a whisper of the woman she used to be. And she was determined to find her again, no matter how long it took.
With one last glance at her reflection, Amara stepped out of the bathroom, her damp hair brushing against her sweater as she made her way down the hall. She was ready to head back to the hospital, but as she passed by her brother’s bedroom, she hesitated.
The door was slightly ajar, and the sight inside tugged at her heart. She stepped in cautiously, her breath catching at the disarray left behind. The room had been ransacked, with drawers pulled from the dresser, their contents strewn across the floor. The broken glass sparkled in the dim light, mingling with splinters from what had once been a nightstand.
Her bare feet hesitated at the edge of the destruction. She had left her shoes downstairs and regretted it now, but something on the bed caught her eye. Carefully, she weaved her way through the debris, mindful not to step on anything sharp.
When she reached the bed, she climbed onto it, feeling the uneven surface of the torn mattress beneath her. Amid the chaos, a single picture lay untouched. She picked it up gently, her fingers brushing off a fine layer of dust.
It was a photo of her, Lee, and Joey taken during simpler, happier times. They were at the zoo, all smiling for the camera. Joey, much younger then, stood between them, his mischievous grin stealing the show as he gave Lee bunny ears. Amara couldn’t help but smile at the memory, her thumb brushing over Joey’s face.
But the smile didn’t last long. Her eyes drifted away from the photo to take in the destruction around her. The feeling of violation from an enemy she didn’t know, faceless and nameless, hit her hard. It made her feel helpless and exposed.
And yet, beneath that unease, she felt something else: safety. The thought surprised her, but it was true. She hadn’t felt safe in a long time, but King had changed that.
Before she’d even come upstairs, King had insisted on searching every room, every closet, every corner, making sure it was safe for her. The memory of him stepping out of each room, nodding to her with quiet assurance, made her chest tighten. He hadn’t said much, but his actions spoke volumes.
“Amara?” His voice sounded behind her as if her thoughts had conjured him.
Turning her head, their eyes met. “Sorry, I was on my way down, but—” She shrugged, looking down at the picture. “I found this.” She held it out with a sad smile.
King’s boots crunched over the broken wood and glass as he crossed the room, the sound echoing softly in the stillness. He stopped before her and gently took the photo from her hands. He studied it for a moment before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Good picture,” he said, handing it back to her.
Amara took it from him, her eyes falling back to the memory captured in the frame. “Yeah, it is. That was a good day. We were at the zoo.” She let out a soft snort, shaking her head. “Joey was so excited. His dad actually took the day off work to go with us. That almost never happened.”
Her lips curved slightly, but her expression turned wry. “I had to threaten Lee with bodily harm to make him go, but... he ended up having fun. Even admitted it, too.”
King didn’t respond right away. He just stood there, his broad frame like a protective shield, his presence calming and grounding her. He reminded her of a guardian angel, silent but watchful.
Her gaze shifted around the ruined room again, and she sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. The destruction, the memories...it was all too much. “I’m ready to go,” she murmured, moving toward the edge of the bed. She started to stand, but King’s hand shot out, stopping her.
“Where are your shoes?” His voice was steady but concerned as his sharp eyes dropped to her bare feet.
“I left them downstairs,” she admitted, brushing her damp hair behind her ear. She moved to take a step, but the moment her foot shifted, King swept her into his arms effortlessly.
Amara gasped softly, her hands instinctively going to his shoulders for balance. “King, I?—”
“Don’t even try to argue,” he cut her off, his tone leaving no room for discussion.
He easily carried her out of the room, his steps sure and deliberate as they moved to the doorway. He hesitated. For a moment, he didn’t set her down. Instead, his eyes locked on hers, and the world seemed to shrink around them.
Neither spoke as they stared at one another. The air between them grew charged, emotions simmering just beneath the surface. Slowly, King lowered her to her feet, his hands lingering momentarily before letting her go.
Her sweater had slipped off her shoulder again, revealing a faint bruise along her collarbone. His gaze dropped to it, and his jaw tightened.
“Sorry,” Amara muttered, her cheeks heating. She tugged at the fabric to cover herself. “I’ve lost a little weight, so my clothes don’t fit right anymore.”
But before she could pull the sweater back into place, his hand reached out, stilling hers.
His frown deepened, his brow furrowing as his dark eyes traced the mark. “Did I do that?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but there was a rough edge as if the thought physically hurt him.
“No.” She glanced down at the bruise, then back up at him, her heart twisting at the visible relief that washed over his face. “I had this before I met you.”
King’s expression darkened again, his fingers brushing against the faint discoloration with surprising gentleness. “Amara, that should’ve healed by now.” His thumb skimmed over the spot, his touch light but deliberate. “Does it hurt?”
She shook her head, swallowing hard. Her chest felt tight as she looked up at him, her pulse quickening under his intense scrutiny. In his eyes, she saw more than concern—something deeper that made her stomach flutter.
No man had ever looked at her like this, as if she was the most important thing in the world. Her heart beat wildly, and for a fleeting moment, the chaos and destruction around them faded. She wasn’t sure what to say or do. All she knew was that standing here, with him, she felt safer than she ever had.
As if her body had a mind of its own, Amara reached up, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him toward her. Their lips met in a kiss that started slow and tentative but quickly ignited into something raw and urgent, as though they had both been starving for this moment.
King responded instantly, his hands sliding to her waist, pulling her closer. His large frame pressed her gently but firmly against the wall. His movements were controlled despite the fire between them. Amara felt herself giving in completely, her body arching into him as her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, climbing up his powerful form as if she belonged there.
Her hands tangled in his thick, dark hair, her fingers gripping as if to anchor herself. His hands shifted to her ass, holding her securely, his strength overwhelming but safe. The kiss deepened, their breath mingling as the heat between them grew unbearable.
A low, husky moan escaped her lips as King broke the kiss, his mouth grazing her jaw. “Amara,” he murmured, his voice a deep rasp, heavy with need and restraint.
Her heart raced, her skin burning under his touch. But as the moment lingered, reality crashed back in, and a wave of embarrassment washed over her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She tried to pull away, her hands pushing at his shoulders, her legs loosening their grip around him. “I shouldn’t have?—”
“Stop,” King ordered, his tone hard yet not unkind.
Her struggles ceased immediately, her wide eyes locking with his. His grip on her didn’t falter, holding her securely as though he could sense she might run if he let go.
“Do not apologize,” he said, his voice softening but still laced with intensity. His eyes burned into hers, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.”
Amara’s breath hitched, her cheeks flushing. “I shouldn’t have...done that.”
A sexy, confident smile curved King’s lips, his golden eyes glinting with mischief. “Yeah, you most certainly should have done...that,” he teased, his voice deep and smooth. But just as quickly, his expression shifted, his tone turning serious as he continued, “But listen to me, Amara. I’ve never taken advantage of a woman in my life, and I’m not about to start now, especially not with you. You’re dealing with a lot of emotions, stress, everything. This... this moment? It’s not about what we want. It’s about timing.”
Amara’s frown deepened, a spark of irritation flaring inside her. She stepped back slightly, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not a little girl, King,” she said firmly, her tone laced with defiance.
“No, you most certainly are not,” he replied, his gaze burning down her body and then back to her eyes. “But you’ve been through hell, Amara. You’re running on fumes, physically, mentally and emotionally. And I refuse to be the guy who takes advantage of that.”
Her eyes narrowed, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “I’m not some fragile doll, King. I know what I feel, and I know what I want.”
King held up his hands, his expression softening. “You’re right. You’re not fragile, and I’d never think that about you. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met.” He stepped closer, his towering frame somehow comforting rather than intimidating. “As much as it fucking kills me to say...right now is not the right time.”
Amara wanted to scream in frustration, but King’s words, frustrating as they were, began cutting through the haze of lust clouding her judgment. Damn it, he was making sense, and she hated that he was right. Still, the sting to her pride lingered. She knew she wasn’t at her best right now. She was too thin, pale, and far from the vibrant woman she once was. When she got herself back together, gained some weight, and put a little effort into her appearance, he’d regret turning her down. That thought alone gave her a slight boost of confidence.
“Fine,” she muttered with a sharp nod, trying to brush past him and put some distance between them. But King wasn’t ready to let her go.
Before she could move, his hand gently caught her arm, halting her. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke in a low, raspy tone that sent shivers racing down her spine. “Never doubt for a second that I don’t want you, Amara,” he whispered, his hot breath grazing her skin. “Because when the time is right, I will have you... all of you.”
Her breath hitched, and she swallowed hard, her heartbeat thundering in her chest. She tilted her head to meet his gaze and saw nothing but raw, undeniable truth burning in his eyes. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him.
The world around her seemed to fade away for a moment, leaving only the two of them locked in this heated exchange. But before she could respond or do something reckless like kiss him again, he pulled back slightly, his intense gaze softening just a fraction.
“Go downstairs and eat,” he said, nudging her gently toward the stairs. His voice was firm, but there was an edge to it, as though he was trying to control himself. “I need a minute to get myself under control.”
Amara blinked, confused for a second, until she glanced down and noticed the unmistakable bulge pressing against the front of his jeans. Heat rushed to her cheeks as her face flushed crimson, her mouth falling open slightly in surprise. King, however, didn’t bother trying to hide it. Instead, he smirked, his lips curving into a wickedly sexy grin. To top it off, he gave her a playful wink that only made her blush harder.
Mortified but secretly delighted, she spun on her heel and hurried down the hallway, her heart racing. She could feel his gaze on her back as she went, and despite herself, a small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips. If nothing else, at least she knew one thing for sure now: the sexual tension between them wasn’t one-sided.