Chapter 31
CHAPTER 31
A mara braced Joey as he hobbled to the chair, grumbling under his breath the whole way.
“These things are from hell,” he groaned, dramatically tossing the crutches to the floor with a heavy clatter. “They hurt my pits.”
Rolling her eyes, she let out a soft laugh. “I think that means you’re using them wrong.”
“No,” Joey glared at her. “It means you have no clue.”
“Watch how you talk to Amara,” King gave Joey a stern look.
“Sorry,” Joey frowned, rubbing at his armpits with an exaggerated pout. “It’s just my pits really hurt, man.”
“Maybe we can add some cushion on them and see if that helps,” Amara offered, surprised that King had corrected Joey on her behalf. She wasn’t upset about it, knowing that Joey was a teenager and that she was too nice when it came to her nephew.
The morning had been... different for her. Beautiful, even. After a long night of whispered conversations and learning more about each other in more ways than one, King had woken her with the smell of breakfast. He’d cooked for her. For them. That alone had done something to her heart.
After eating and cleaning up, they went to Joey’s house to gather his clothes before heading to her place. While looking for something to wear for the funeral, she found King standing in front of her hall coat closet, staring curiously at the small space she had turned into a makeshift darkroom.
His fascination had caught her off guard. He didn’t just glance around and nod; he asked real questions. He wanted to understand. No one had ever really asked before.
Later, they met up with Jake and Jessie for a late lunch. She had gotten to know Jessie, who was very sweet and cared for Joey. Amara had always gone to Joey’s recitals, except for the last six months, but Jessie had always been too busy with the kids to interact beyond polite greetings. Today, Amara saw just how much Jessie cared for Joey, which made her like the woman even more.
Throughout the meal, King talked to Joey and Jake, but she could tell his attention never strayed far from his surroundings. He was on alert, both he and Jake were. It made her a little uneasy, a stark reminder that the world she was living in since her circumstances had changed drastically, which was a total understatement.
Now back at King’s place, she reached for one of the bags. “Here, let me help?—”
“Got it.” King moved them out of her reach, flashing her a small, knowing smile before heading up the stairs.
She followed, stepping into his bedroom. It was spacious and well-kept, but there was something... impersonal about it. No photographs, no personal touches. It was just a space, not a place that held memories like her own bedroom.
Her eyes drifted to the bed, and warmth spread through her chest. After leaving the basement they had come to his bedroom and talked for hours until she fell asleep.
King had opened up if only a little. She had learned that Joey reminded him of a younger brother he had lost, which explained why he felt so protective of him. It was the only piece of his past he had offered, but it was enough to make her realize how much he cared.
She was still learning. About him, about this world. Little things like why his eyes turn black. He had told her when he needed to feed...meaning blood, or when he was hungry and sex. A shiver ran down her spine as her thoughts went to the sex they had hours ago.
“What are you grinning about?” King’s voice rumbled through the room, pulling her from her thoughts.
Amara smoothed out the dress she had chosen for the funeral and walked toward the closet. “It was just a nice day. I haven’t had one of those in a long time.” She hesitated before glancing at him. “Can I hang my dress up in here?”
King frowned. “Stop asking me those kinds of questions.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“I told you...do whatever you need to do. What’s mine is yours.” His voice was firm, but there was something softer in his expression. Something that made her breath catch.
“Sorry,” she said, offering him a small smile. “Still trying to get used to that.”
After hanging her dress, she returned to her bag, pulling out the rest of her clothes. She hated wearing the same thing over and over again.
“That drawer over there.” King nodded toward the bottom left one. “It’s empty.”
She looked up at him, standing against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with that intense gaze that made her feel like the only person in the world. She quickly put her stuff away and then sat on the bed.
“If you don’t sleep, why do you have a bed?” The words flew out before she could stop them, and the second she saw King’s eyebrow lift, heat rushed to her cheeks.
“Oh,” she mumbled, then stood up quickly.
King chuckled, the deep, rich sound sending a shiver down her spine. He tilted his head, eyes locked onto hers with amusement. “Oh… what?”
Amara shrugged, glancing at the bed again as if it held all the answers to the questions she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask. “Have you had a lot of… people in here?”
God, that sounded stupid.
Her teeth sank into her lip as she winced at her own awkwardness. She had meant women, of course, but she didn’t want to say that outright. Yet, the thought had lodged itself in her mind like a sharp, unwelcome thorn. She knew what he was and what he looked like. King was dark, dangerous, and devastatingly attractive. She could only imagine the sheer number of women who had been tangled in those sheets. The thought made something uncomfortable twist inside her. Jealously nipped at her soul, making her snort at herself and want to burn the damn bed. Yeah, maybe she didn’t actually want to know.
King arched a brow. “People?” His voice held quiet amusement. “Or women?”
She groaned, covering her face with her hands for a second before dropping them. “It sounded better in my head. Where it should have stayed.”
King just chuckled as he watched her.
Spinning toward the door, she muttered, “Ignore that. I’m going to see if Joey wants something to eat.” A terrible excuse, considering they had eaten barely an hour ago, but she needed an escape before she embarrassed herself further.
Before she could take another step, King’s hand wrapped gently around her wrist, stopping her in place.
“I haven’t lived here long,” he said, his voice low and firm. “And Sloan keeps us so busy that I haven’t been with a woman for a while.”
Her breath caught as he reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek with the softest touch.
“You are the only woman ever in this bed, Amara.” His dark eyes burned into hers, filled with something profound, something raw. “And you’ll be the last.”
“Oh,” A sharp exhale left her lips. Dammit. There it was again...that stupid word that wasn’t even a real response. She frowned at herself before shaking her head. “You didn’t have to tell me that, King. It’s none of my business.”
His lips curved in the barest of smiles before he leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against hers. “Yes, I did,” he murmured, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. “And yes, it is.”
Her body melted into his as his strong arms wrapped around her, cocooning her in warmth. She pressed her cheek against his chest, breathing him in. For a moment, nothing else existed.
“What are you guys doing up there?” Joey’s voice echoed up the stairs, shattering the moment.
King sighed against her hair, muttering a curse before pulling back just enough to press a kiss to the top of her head.
“Is he too old to have a bedtime?” he grumbled.
Amara laughed, burying her face against his chest. If only.
They headed downstairs, settling in to watch a movie with Joey. Of course, they picked Tommy Boy, which was their all-time favorite. When King admitted he had never seen it, both she and Joey had gawked at him like he had committed a crime. King had only shrugged, saying he didn’t really watch TV, which to Joey was totally unacceptable.
By the time the credits rolled, Joey and Amara were quoting lines while King shook his head, clearly entertained but pretending not to be.
What impressed her even more was when King picked up Call of Duty and quickly mastered it despite never having played before. Joey was ecstatic, and Amara found herself watching King more than the screen, mesmerized by how effortlessly he adapted to things.
They had ordered pizza, and now they were sprawled around the living room, eating and talking.
“So, are you guys a thing now?” Joey asked, waving a slice of pizza dramatically before taking a huge bite. His eyes darted between them, full of mischief.
Amara nearly choked on her drink, her cheeks burning. She didn’t say a word, curious about how King would respond.
King leaned back against the couch, his expression unreadable. “Would it be a problem if the answer was yes?”
Joey paused, sipping his soda as if seriously contemplating it. Finally, he shrugged. “Nah. As long as you treat her good, I think it’s pretty cool.”
Amara’s heart squeezed, and she smiled at her nephew.
King nodded, glancing at her before turning back to Joey. “Yes, we are a... thing.”
“Sweet!” Joey grinned, tossing his pizza crust onto his plate. “She has pretty crappy taste in guys. You are definitely an upgrade.”
Amara groaned. “Joey.”
“What?” He ignored her glare. “It’s true. That last guy?—”
King cut him off, his gaze sharpening. “Last guy?” His tone was too calm. “How many guys has there been?”
Joey smirked, nodding toward Amara. “Look at her. How many do you think?”
“Oh my God.” Amara groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Seriously? I’ve had two semi-serious relationships.”
Joey snickered. “True, but you dated losers in between. Jimmy was the first guy, and he was okay. But Bud was... well, he was weird.”
“You dated a guy named Bud ?” King deadpanned, looking at her as if she had personally offended him.
Amara rolled her eyes. “It was a nickname. His real name was Bern—why are we even talking about this?” She grabbed her drink, taking a long sip as if that would drown out the conversation.
Joey snorted. “Bern? As in Bernie ?” He cackled, shaking his head. “Damn, I thought his real name was Bud.”
“I see why he went with Bud,” King muttered, smirking. “So, what was wrong with Bernie?”
“It just wasn’t working out,” Amara said quickly, waving a hand. “Can we not do this? How about another movie?”
“She broke up with him, and then he started stalking her.” Joey blurted, looking at her unapologetically when she shot him a glare. “What? He did. Dad had to kick his ass because he wouldn’t leave you alone.”
King went utterly still. “What’s his last name?” His voice was pure steel.
Amara pointed at Joey. “Hush.” Then she turned to King. “I haven’t seen him in over a year. He’s probably married with a kid by now.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And since we’re discussing my past relationships, let’s talk about your dating history.”
“Oh, this should be good.” Joey grinned, settling back like he was waiting for storytime.
King shrugged. “I don’t date.”
Joey scoffed. “Bullshit. I mean, look at you, Mr. Witcher.”
“What?” Amara and King said in unison, looking at Joey.
Joey gestured at King. “He looks like that dude from The Witcher . Harry Cardil or whatever his name is.”
Amara blinked. “Henry Cavill.”
Joey snapped his fingers. “Yeah! That guy. Every time we watch it, you get all sigh-y and sappy-eyed. The only difference is King has long black hair instead of white.”
Amara turned her gaze to King, really looking at him now. Damn. Joey had a point. The chiseled jaw, the intense stare, the sheer presence—oh hell. Her body tingled as the realization hit her.
“So, yeah,” Joey continued, oblivious to her internal meltdown. “There’s no way you didn’t date or have women throwing themselves at you, batting their fake lashes all sappy-eyed.”
King smirked. “Out of respect for Amara, I won’t discuss the women with fake lashes I’ve known in the past.”
Joey groaned. “Damn. I was hoping for some juicy stuff. And dude, you seriously need to watch more TV. Maybe tomorrow we’ll start The Witcher , but be prepared for a lot of sighing and sappy eyes from her.” He jerked a thumb at Amara. “She thinks he’s hot.”
King’s smirk deepened. “Is that so?”
Amara cursed her traitorous nephew as her face flamed.
“Okay, guys,” Joey yawned, stretching. “I’m gonna crawl upstairs now because screw those damn crutches.”
Before Amara could stop him, King stood and walked over, kneeling in front of Joey. “Climb on.”
“I sure hope you carrying me never gets out.” Joey sighed with a frown. “It’s a little embarrassing being carried by a dude like a little bitch.”
“There’s always the crutches,” King reminded him, then winked at Amara over his shoulder. “And I’m not carrying you like a little bitch. I’m carrying you like I would any wounded Warrior.”
“Definitely more cool,” Joey said as he climbed on King’s back. “Night, Amara.”
“Good night,” She watched, heart swelling, as Joey climbed onto King’s back, and King taking the weight of a grown teenager as if it was nothing.
She exhaled the second they were gone and rolled her eyes at herself. “Get a grip,” she muttered, shaking her head as she started cleaning up their mess.
Carrying their plates to the sink, she rinsed them off and loaded them into the dishwasher. When she turned to grab the rest, she collided with a solid wall of muscle.
A startled squeal left her lips before she laughed. “You scared me.” She looked up at him… and damn Joey. Now, she couldn’t unsee the Witcher resemblance.
“This Bernie guy…” King’s voice was low, serious. “He doesn’t bother you anymore?”
Amara sighed. “Joey and his big mouth,” she muttered. “No, he hasn’t. He never hurt me or anything. Just wouldn’t leave me alone. Called all the time, left what felt like millions of messages, showed up at places I was, and it just got... creepy. I didn’t even know Lee had confronted him until months after it all stopped. He was afraid of Lee.”
King nodded, his jaw tight. “He was a good brother to you.”
“He had his moments.” The sadness crept in again, knowing that they’d be saying their final goodbyes to Lee tomorrow. “You didn’t like him very much, did you?”
King hesitated, then smirked. “I like him more knowing he kicked Bernie’s ass.”
Amara let out a soft laugh, resting her forehead against his chest. He had a way of making her sadness lighter and more bearable.
King toyed with her hair. “So, you think this… Witcher guy is hot ?”
Amara pulled back, raising a brow. “Are you a jealous man, King?”
“That depends.” His gaze darkened.
“On?”
“Do I really look like this guy?” He arched an eyebrow, waiting.
She bit her lip, pretending to study him, even wrinkling her nose for effect. He growled low in his throat.
“Maybe a little.” She sighed dramatically. “But you’re much more... handsome. And bigger .”
King’s smirk was pure sin. “Bigger, huh?”
She flushed. “I meant your muscles and height.”
His laughter rumbled through the room, deep and rich, before he scooped her up effortlessly, cradling her against his chest. Amara curled into him instinctively, inhaling his scent that was purely him . It was ridiculous how safe she felt in his arms, how right it felt.
As he carried her toward the basement, which had become their sanctuary and place of privacy, she peeked up at him, mischief dancing in her eyes.
“Are you carrying me like a little bitch?” she teased, throwing Joey’s words back at him.
King grinned at her, amusement flickering in his golden gaze. Without breaking stride, he reached behind him and locked the door one-handed, still effortlessly holding her.
“No,” he murmured, gaze locked on hers. He continued down the stairs, his steps steady, deliberate. “I’m carrying you like a man…” But then he stopped. Mid-step, mid-sentence. Just stopped .
Amara frowned, tilting her head to look at him. He wasn’t smiling anymore. His face was unreadable, but his grip on her tightened, his chest rising and falling a little too deeply.
“Like a man what ?” she whispered, her heart pounding.
Something had shifted in the air between them, something heavy and raw. Amara had never seen King at a loss for words before. He was always so sure, so steady. But now, he just stood there, staring at her like she was fragile.
She tried to lighten the moment, offering him a teasing smile. “I was just kidding, King.” She shifted in his arms, attempting to slide down, but he held her closer, his grip unyielding.
“I’m not.” His voice was rough but not unsteady.
Amara’s breath hitched. His golden eyes darkened, filled with something deep, something intense.
“A man in love with you.” His words landed like a spark in dry grass, setting something ablaze inside her.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Her fingers clenched against his shoulders as her heart pounded so hard she swore he could hear it. “King…” she whispered, his name catching in her throat.
But he didn’t say anything else. He just looked at her, waiting, letting the weight of his confession settle between them, allowing her to decide what to do with it.
Amara had always wondered if real love was something she might never truly have. And yet, here he was. Holding her like she was the most important thing in his world. And she wasn't afraid to be loved for the first time in her life.
She reached up and touched his face, her fingers tracing along his sharp jawline and cheek. Then, slowly, she leaned in, pressing her forehead against his.
“I’m in love with you too, King,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his.
King exhaled sharply like he had been holding his breath this whole time. Then his lips crashed against hers as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. She knew she had been.