Chapter 30
CHAPTER 30
K ing leaned against the wall, his sharp eyes locked onto Amara as she slept curled up on the sofa. The chaos of the game consoles and controllers clicking around them didn’t seem to bother her, and he found himself mesmerized by the peaceful rise and fall of her breathing.
She’d played a few more rounds before finally dozing off, and King was still amazed by her gaming skills. He’d never seen anyone, let alone a woman, play like that. And how she handled the trash talk from faceless idiots online was priceless. It had taken everything in him not to track those assholes down and teach them a painful lesson. He had even asked Adam if there was a way to find them.
Amara had told Adam that gaming helped her relax, and even now, King smirked at the thought. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how running around in a virtual warzone, shooting and getting shot, was supposed to be calming, but for her, it seemed to work.
A loud yawn from Joey snapped him out of his thoughts. King glanced at his watch. It was late.
“Alright, guys,” he said, pushing off the wall. Steve had left an hour ago, leaving Viktor, Adam, and Bishop still playing.
“Let me finish this game,” Bishop muttered before cursing. “I swear, if this little bastard knifes me one more time, I’m gonna lose my shit.”
“Damn it, Bishop, stop getting killed.” Viktor shook his head. “You suck at this game.”
“You’re not any better,” Bishop shot back before letting out a string of curses and tossing the controller at Joey. “This game sucks.”
“No,” Joey snickered. “You suck.”
Bishop growled at him but still gave him a high five as he got up to leave. Viktor fist-bumped Joey before glancing toward Amara, then back at King. His expression grew serious.
“If you need any help, don’t hesitate to ask,” Viktor said, stopping at the door. “You’ve got two very special people here. Lacey and I will be there Saturday.”
“Appreciate it,” King nodded, his gaze shifting from Joey, who yawned again, then to Amara, who shifted in her sleep, curling up tighter.
The door clicked shut behind Viktor just as Adam stood, stretching.
“You need anything else?” Adam asked.
“Nah, man.” King shook his hand. “Appreciate you and Steve setting all this up.”
“No problem.” Adam glanced over his shoulder at Joey, whose eyes were now closed. “Kid’s hurting bad, but he’s hiding it. Figured you should know.”
King frowned. “Did you read him?” He still wasn’t completely comfortable with Adam’s abilities. The idea of someone being able to dig through his thoughts didn’t sit right with him.
“Yeah,” Adam admitted without hesitation. “I was wondering why he wasn’t acting like a kid who just lost his dad. I thought maybe he knew more about what happened than he was saying. But it’s not that.”
King crossed his arms, his gut twisting. “Then what is it?”
Adam motioned his chin toward Amara. “He’s trying to be strong. For her. And for you. He doesn’t want any of us to think he’s weak.”
King exhaled through his nose, his chest tightening. Damn. The kid was grieving, but he was too proud to show it. “Thanks, Adam,” King said, opening the door.
“See ya later.” Adam stepped out, leaving King alone with the two people who had unexpectedly become his whole world.
King set the security system and then turned, staring at Joey, who was now sound asleep, his head resting against the chair, soft snores filling the room. King recognized it now. He recognized the brave face Joey had been putting on, the weight of his loss pressing down on his young shoulders. It struck King harder than he had expected. Joey needed him. Amara needed him.
“Hey!” King gently shook Joey who mumbled something in his sleep. “Joey, wake up.”
“Five more minutes,” He turned away with a huff.
King grinned. “Dude, wake the hell up so I can get you upstairs to bed.”
“Huh,” Joey peeked over his shoulder at him, then looked around. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I thought I had to go to school.”
“You want your crutches or me to carry you?” Joey frowned, looking at the crutches, then back at King. “Crutches, I guess. Kinda weird for you to be carrying me.”
Rolling his eyes, King turned his back and knelt. “Get on my back, Joey,” King ordered. “I’m not going to carry you like some girl. Tomorrow you can start using the crutches.”
“Yeah, okay.” Joey climbed on King’s back. “What about Amara?”
“I’ll take care of her once I have you settled.” King stood, grabbing the crutches, then headed toward the steps. Once inside the room where Joey would be staying, he walked to bed. Joey slid off his back. King set the crutches against the wall. “You need anything else?”
“Nope, I’m good,” Joey said, stretching. “Just take care of Amara.”
King stopped at Joey’s door and hesitated briefly before turning fully to face him. “Have no doubt about that, Joey. But listen to me. You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you too. Whatever you need, whatever you want to talk about, I’m here. And don’t think for a second I will see you as anything less than a man.”
Joey swallowed hard, his throat working as he nodded.
“I know I call you ‘kid,’ but that’s just habit. Truth is, you’re more of a man than many people I’ve met.” King met his gaze, making sure the words landed. “You got me?”
Joey cleared his throat and nodded again. “Yeah. I got you. Thanks, King.”
“Don’t mention it, kid ,” King said with a grin, ignoring his own contradiction. “Get some rest.”
Closing the door, he turned and headed down the stairs. The house was quiet, but his senses sharpened when he heard movement from the kitchen. His steps quickened, his body tense until he rounded the corner and saw Amara standing at the sink, scrubbing the pans she’d used to fry the chicken. The sight of her should have eased him, but something was still off with her. He could sense it.
“What are you doing up?” His voice cut through the silence.
Amara jumped, her wide eyes snapping to his. “You scared me. How can someone so big be so quiet?”
“Sorry,” he muttered, frowning as he picked up on the same awkward tension from earlier. It was still there, hanging between them like a barrier he didn’t know how to break through.
She just nodded and went back to washing the pans. “Is Joey settled?”
“Yeah.” King stepped forward, grabbed a towel, and picked up the pan she had just washed. He dried it and set it aside, repeating the motion until everything was put away. Then he leaned against the counter, folding his arms as he watched her.
“You look exhausted,” he said. “You need to get some rest.”
She shrugged. “I don’t sleep much anymore.” Her voice was soft, her arms crossing over her stomach as she exhaled.
King’s jaw tensed. He misunderstood at first, thinking it was fear keeping her up. “Amara, no one is going to touch you. You’re safe.”
“I know.” She sighed, still avoiding his gaze. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
She hesitated before muttering, “It’s the dreams. I don’t want to dream.”
King narrowed his eyes. He knew there was more. He could feel it. “That all that’s bothering you?”
“Yes,” she lied.
He knew it was a lie because she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Look at me and tell me that’s all that’s bothering you.” He pushed, his voice steady, not backing down.
She rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. “This is fast, King.”
His brows drew together. “What is?”
“Us. Me and you. We hardly know each other.” Her voice wavered, and she looked away again. “And the way I?—”
King straightened. “The way you what?”
Amara dropped her hands, her red-rimmed eyes finally locking onto his. Fear flickered there, raw and real. “The way I feel about you terrifies me,” she blurted before immediately covering her face again.
King’s gut clenched. Every instinct screamed at him to pull her into his arms, to hold her, to tell her she didn’t have to be afraid. But he didn’t. Not yet.
Instead, he kept his voice calm. “Why does it terrify you, Amara?”
Her voice was muffled behind her hands, but he still heard her clearly. “Because I’m an independent woman, dammit.”
He huffed out a quiet laugh. That, he already knew. What she didn’t realize was that her independence wasn’t something he wanted to take away. “That is one thing I admire about you, Amara.” King pulled her hands away from her face. “Do you really think I would take that away from you as if I even could? Is that the kind of man you think I am?”
King watched Amara shake her head, a single tear slipping down her cheek. His chest tightened, but he forced himself to stay still, to let her say what she needed to say.
“No,” she murmured. “That’s not what I mean. I know you would never do that.”
“Good.” His voice was low, firm. But he didn’t push. He wanted her to get it all out and trust him enough to tell him what was really going on inside that stubborn, beautiful head of hers. So, he waited.
She pulled one of her hands free from his grasp and wiped the tear away, then looked up at him with uncertainty in her eyes.
“What happens when this is over? Are you going to walk away, leave me high and dry? Should I even be asking that?” She shook her head, clearly frustrated. “I’m really freaking confused right now. I have been depending on you more than I have depended on anyone in my life. I don’t want to get hurt, King. And you have the power to hurt me. I’ve only known you for days—not weeks or months—and already…” She trailed off, but he knew. He knew exactly what she was trying to say.
He lifted her effortlessly before she could pull away again and set her on the counter, bringing them eye to eye. His large hands framed her face, forcing her to look at him, to see the truth in his eyes.
“I want you to listen to me and listen good.” His voice was rough with emotion but steady. “When this is over, I’m not going anywhere.”
Her breath hitched, but he didn’t stop.
“A vampire has a Mate, Amara. The first time I laid eyes on you, I knew you were mine. And I told you...You. Are. Mine.” His thumb traced her jaw as he held her gaze. “I don’t say things I don’t mean. Understand this. You have all the power. You think what is between us was fast. Not for me. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. And there is nothing in this fucked-up world that would ever make me walk away from you.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, and then slowly, he saw it...the walls she had started to build crack under the weight of his words.
King had never been a man who second-guessed himself, but as he looked into Amara’s eyes, waiting for her response, a sliver of uncertainty crept into his chest.
“So, it wasn’t just the sex that had you saying that I’m yours?” She whispered, biting her lip.
“What?” King’s eyes opened wide in shock. “No! It wasn’t just the sex, but that absolutely helped the situation.” He teased wink, making her grin.
Amara launched herself at him, wrapping her arms and legs around him so tightly he could barely breathe. Not that he cared. She could choke him out for all he cared at that moment.
“I’m sorry, sometimes I get in my own head and well—” She didn’t finish, just shrugged.
“Hey,” He grabbed her chin gently. “I will never walk away from you. I swear it.”
She nodded, biting her lip again, which drove him absolutely insane. “But it was a little bit about the sex?”
A laugh and growl combined rumbled deep in his chest, a primal sound of possession and pure, unfiltered need. Before he could respond, her lips crashed into his, and suddenly, nothing else in the world mattered.
Their mouths moved together in a frantic, desperate hunger. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, tangled in each other, lost in a kiss that felt like it could burn down the entire fucking world. But the fire inside him was raging, and if he didn’t have her now, he was going to lose his damn mind.
Without breaking the kiss, he carried her down the stairs, her body clinging to his like she was made for him. Hell, maybe she was.
The second they reached the basement, he set her down, hands already tugging at her clothes, stripping her bare, his mouth mapping every inch of exposed skin like he was branding her with each touch. Amara was just as desperate, just as wild, her fingers shaking as she pulled his shirt over his head, her lips dragging over his chest, lower and lower.
When she dropped to her knees and took his cock into her mouth, King slammed his palm against the wall, his body jolting with raw, electric pleasure. “Fuck, Amara—” His voice was hoarse, strained, barely hanging onto control as she worked him with slow, torturous strokes of her tongue.
His muscles locked tight, his hand sinking into her hair, guiding her but not forcing—never forcing—because Amara wasn’t a woman to be controlled. She took what she wanted, just like he did, and right now, she wanted to fucking kill him with that sweet mouth.
Before he lost it completely, he carefully pulled her up, his hands sliding under her thighs as he lifted her off the ground. Her legs wrapped around him again, her heat pressing against him, and with one thrust, he was buried inside her.
A groan tore from his throat as he pressed her against the wall, his forehead dropping to hers. “Mine,” he growled against her lips.
“Yours,” she breathed, her nails digging into his back.
And those words were all he needed before giving them both exactly what they craved.