Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
KILLIAN
“Is that your move?” I tipped my head at the seven-year-old across from me, a bit of his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he contemplated his play.
Simon’s sharp blue-green eyes peered up at me while he shifted his chess piece slowly to another square, gauging my reaction.
“Look at the whole board.” I smiled as I watched him try to assess me, pick up on any clues I might give away, which was a huge part of not just learning chess, but life.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and I tried to ignore the sensation zinging through me. My gaze stayed locked on the boy, not going to the figure entering.
She stood for a moment, irritation radiating over her.
“You called for me?” Her accent immediately wrapped around my dick, making me almost jerk upright in the chair. Even if it was fake at one time, she’d played the part for so long that she could no longer distinguish herself from the character.
My head turned to the curvy redhead in the doorway, air hitching in my throat. Her beauty unnerved me. She was exactly what you would picture as an ingenue on stage. Full lips, crystal blue eyes, porcelain skin, and an incredible figure made her appear soft and sweet.
Nina might have been, but Rosie had a spine of steel and a will of iron.
My weakness.
My dick stirred as her smell wafted more into the room.
“Yes, come in.” Clearing my throat, I shifted in my chair by the fire, the misty day giving us the cover to get some heat into the freezing rooms.
Rosie stepped in, realizing I wasn’t alone when the closed door gave her a full view of the room.
“How about this, Uncle Killian?” Simon hovered his piece over a square. He had taken to calling me that when we were in the cabin, and I never corrected him. I would never admit it to anyone, but whenever he did, I felt a warmth, a sense of belonging I never had before.
Rosie’s gaze landed on Simon in the chair across from me, her feet coming to a stop, her eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.
“You have to imagine several steps ahead and every outcome I might play against you. Take a moment and study the board. I’ll be back.” I rubbed his head, standing to my feet.
Rosie stood in bewilderment.
“What?” I strolled to her.
“Are you babysitting?” Her mouth parted, her lids blinking with disorientation.
“His mother and Zander are on duty, and his uncle is out, so I said I’d watch him.
” Simon didn’t really need to be watched; the place was safe for him to run about, but I actually enjoyed spending time with him.
He was the only one who wasn’t giving me a headache right now, including the woman across from me.
“Why?” I added defensively.
“I don’t know . . .” She shook her head. “I just never imagined you liking kids or being around them. I can’t even picture you as one.”
“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” I snipped, irritated I was so one-layered in her view. Why I cared what a human thought, I don’t know. “And yes, even if it was long ago, I once was his age too.”
A memory of where I was at his age came to mind.
I was existing—not really living—at an orphanage, where I was starved and beaten daily.
I eventually stowed away on a ship, desperate to escape that hellhole.
I could still smell the salt in the air and feel the crash of the waves as the boat rocked violently, the water dripping down my face, soaking my threadbare clothes.
The terror as I was dragged out of my hiding spot and dropped at the feet of the most feared pirate in the world.
I was a scrawny, unwanted street rat, but I held my chin up and stared back at him, pretending I wasn’t petrified.
Maybe like when I look at Simon, there was something about me that he took pity on.
Respected. He saw I was scrappy, but he must have known I’d fight and kill to get where I needed to because he not only let me live, he made me part of the crew.
Part of that world. Taught me how to survive. Gave me a family.
It was where I met her.
Where I got my name.
Where I became a man.
Where my heart was broken.
Where I decided nothing would stop me from being even better than the man who took me under his wing. The man I grew to hate. I would be worthy. I would be good enough. I would be rich and powerful. I would become a king.
Or the closest thing to it.
“Can’t picture you ever playing or getting dirty.” She folded her arms. “Did they even have dirt back when you were a kid?”
I moved into her in a blink, forcing a gasp from her throat, my hands fisting at my sides to keep from wrapping them around her beautiful neck and tugging hard on her red locks.
“You know nothing about me or what I was like,” I growled, stepping into her more.
Our bodies aligned, her heat pressing into mine, the soft scent of her shampoo filling my nose.
She looked like she wanted to retreat, but she stood firmly, her jaw tight, her blue eyes flashing up to mine in defiance.
“You have no idea how dirty I can get. What I’ve had to do in my life before your grandparents were even a thought.
So do not challenge my character, Nina.” She flinched at her real name. “You won’t like the outcome.”
“You think I’m afraid of you, Killian?” Her tongue hissing my name in ire did the opposite of what she was trying for. My blood rushed below my belt, my chest heaving. “Being alive so long, you’d think you’d be better at it by now.” She motioned around the room. “Where is your castle now, Majesty?”
The rage and exhaustion circling me daily snapped my willpower like a twig.
My hands gripped the back of her scalp roughly as I yanked slightly on her strands, pointing her face to me as I towered over her, pressing her into me.
Her eyes blazed and her nose flared, her jaw clamping together. She was ready to fight.
It was at that moment I realized what I had done, the line I had crossed .
. . with a person who had experienced so much trauma and assault from men.
Her husband, the whorehouse, Věrh?za. She had been raped by those to whom her husband owed money, then forced into prostitution to pay off that vile piece of shit’s debt.
I was no different.
Jerking back like she had electrocuted me, I turned away from her, running my hand, which still echoed with her heat, through my own. My body radiated fury, my chest heaving with disgust.
“Simon, why don’t you go down and visit your Aunt Kitty,” Rosie spoke sweetly to the boy. “I think it would really help for her to hear your voice.”
“Is she doing better?” Simon jumped up from the chair. “Is she awake?”
“She’s the same, but I know your visit would help a lot.” Rosie nodded in encouragement, watching the boy run from the room to go see her.
Kitty’s condition seemed to only be declining. The prison destroyed her will to live. To be part of this world.
I couldn’t help feeling the weight of it on my shoulders, more guilt weighing me down.
Markos may have upped the ante on torture, but it was still my prison.
Something I had built. The cruelty, beatings, and the Games—all existed in Halálház.
I didn’t oversee it once it was up and running, but that didn’t lessen my accountability.
It wasn’t until I was a victim of my own creation did I truly understand the depravity of what I let happen and felt the weight of my ego.
I heard the door shut behind Simon. The buffer between the tension was gone, letting it thread through the room like webs. Exhaling, I placed my palms on the table, my back to her. I stared blankly at the map of Leopold and HDF lying on top.
“Killian,” Rosie spoke after a while, my name like a melody on her lips.
“I’m sorry.” I croaked, the words struggling to get out of my chest.
“What?”
“I said I’m sorry.” I stood upright, turning around, though I still wouldn’t look at her. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that. I apologize.”
“Apologize?” She folded her arms with a smirk. “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that term before.”
I cleared my throat, peering back at the map, the entire reason I summoned her to me. Somewhere in the back of my head, I heard myself laugh at that. “Now to why I called you here.”
“No.” She shook her head, her arms dropping away.
“No?” I shot back.
“I know why you called me here.” She walked up to me, her blue eyes tearing through my soul, kicking through every barrier. “Do you think you hurt me? That I’m afraid of you?”
My shoulders went back. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.”
“Why?” She tilted her head.
“Because . . . well . . . because of . . .” I stumbled and tripped over my words.
“Because I’ve been raped, or because I’m a prostitute?”
“Was.” The word popped out of my mouth before I thought.
What Rosie had done to survive was shamed by many, especially humans.
Though I respected her drive to live and didn’t look upon it with disgust. The opposite, actually.
I respected her. She was scrappy and tough, and she would do whatever it took to survive. Something I understood.
Though the idea of her being with other men caused rage to flood through my muscles.
“You’re not a prostitute . . . I mean, that’s not all you are. And that isn’t why.” I clamped my mouth shut, wondering why I had just said that.
It was clear she didn’t like me, nor I her. I had no idea why we were talking about this.
“Because I’ve been assaulted?” She replied with no emotion.
I dipped my head.
“How fragile do you think I am?”
“I’m sorry?”