Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Josie
Pristine marble floors gleam white beneath my sandals. I stand in front of a large information board with my hands on my hips, taking in the truth of this place. King wasn’t wrong. These people aren’t exploiting animals. They’re saving them.
Powerful hands land on my shoulders, and King’s warmth presses in behind me. He dips lower, placing his lips beside my ear. “Jim purchased this place a few months ago,” he whispers. “This is where he wants to bring your sloth. Just thought you might like to see what he has to offer.”
A few staffers appear behind the information desk, and one of them raises her hand to shield her eyes as she looks at the four of us browsing the foyer displays. “Are you Madigan’s people?”
“I am my own person,” Grim grumbles.
“Yes, that would be us,” King says before the woman can take offense. I don’t know how Rose tolerates Grim’s cold demeanor. “Is the gator experience ready for us?”
“I thought you said they don’t exploit the animals.” I pin King with a glare.
The woman offers me a warm look. “We definitely don’t exploit them, but we do allow the public to witness some of their natural behaviors while they’re in our care.
Feedings, enclosure cleanings, rehabilitation—we want our benefactors as involved as possible.
The money we receive for the entertainment and education we provide helps us fund our mission, but never at an animal’s expense. ”
“Aren’t there government programs for that?”
The staffers smile a little bigger and start to laugh.
King presses his hand against the small of my back, guiding me toward a hallway. “This facility is one of our special projects. Part animal sanctuary, part . . . You’ll just have to see it.”
Automatic doors swing open as we approach, and the four of us enter a large aquarium. The building’s interior is nothing like its exterior. I feel like I’m walking through a state-of-the-art facility.
Glowing blue lights illuminate our path as we stroll past large tanks filled with fish and other aquatic life. We stop in front of a window that lets us view a tank featuring three manatees.
“These three were injured by boaters. Do you see the scars?” He points to one as it swims by, and I notice the long white lines running through the poor thing’s gray hide. “They’ve almost healed up. Once they’re better, they’ll be transported and released in Florida.”
I place my hand against the glass, and a round face stops in front of me. “Is this what I look like in the water?”
“No,” Grim says. “You look more like that thing.”
I turn and see where he’s pointing—at a tank holding Atlantic blue crabs. They skitter sideways and reach for the bubbles pouring out of a tube in the back.
“Ha. Ha,” I say. “Why do you keep calling me a fucking crab, anyway?”
Instead of answering me, he pinches his fingers in my face and walks away, joining Rosie by a tank filled with river fish.
King guides me out of the indoor aquarium and into another section of the facility marked for staff only.
We traverse a narrow corridor before it spits us into another aquatics section, but instead of looking into tanks, we’re peering into an indoor wetland scene.
Even the room’s humidity has been cranked to tropical settings.
A glass partition separates us from the gator enclosure. Three massive reptiles sun themselves below a large heat lamp on the sandy shore. A few ducks kick around in the water, giving the gators a wide berth.
“They don’t bother the ducks,” King says as we stop. “The staff keeps their water teeming with large native fish, and they frequently give them hunting trials with larger prey.”
I grimace and shake my head. “I don’t want to see that.”
“Yes you do.” He pats my ass, and we keep walking.
Grim and Rose join us as we go to the far end of the room, where a small table has been set up. A white tablecloth covers the surface, and on top of that rests our dinnerware, a candle, and a slender glass vase holding a single white rose.
King pulls out a chair, and I take a seat.
“No menus?” I ask.
“I’ve ordered ahead for the table.” King sits beside me as Rose takes her seat across from me. “Conch fritters for the appetizer, followed by bison burgers and gator bites.”
My gaze drifts back to the alligators. “Please tell me we aren’t eating the ones they couldn’t rehabilitate.”
Grim scoffs and places a cloth napkin in his lap. “Waste not, want not.”
King’s hand lands on my thigh beneath the table, and he gives it a reassuring squeeze. “We’re eating meat sourced from homesteaders, actually. Ever since Jim got on this animal-welfare kick, he cares a bit more about where our meat comes from.”
“There are alligator homesteaders?” I ask with a curled lip.
“I know of only one.” King sips his water. “Jim put one of the Cattle-turned-staffers onto an island surrounded by gators. He’s too dangerous to let loose, but as long as he keeps tending Jim’s gator farm with the care he never showed his own beasts, he can continue to breathe air.”
A server comes by our table and drops off the appetizer. Grim places a few fritters onto a plate for himself and Rose before digging in. I just grab one from the metal tray and pop it into my mouth. I’m starving.
Spices and seafood meld with the golden batter as I sink my teeth into the most delicious bite I’ve ever tasted. I close my eyes and fight off the urge to moan. That’s when I hear a strange sound coming from the other side of the table.
I pop open my eyes. Rose stares back at me, her mouth agape. She pats her chest and leans forward.
“Hey, uh, Grim? I think she’s choking,” I say.
Grim’s wiry neck turns so fast that I’m certain it will snap. He rips off his spectacles and cleans them in a hurry, as if that will change what he sees.
“Ach! Hilfe!” He looks around, his eyes landing on me. “She is choking! Please, kleine Krabbe. Please help her.”
I stand from the table and hurry to Rose’s side. “Maybe I’m stereotyping here, but the Heimlich maneuver definitely sounds like something a German should know.”
“Henry Heimlich was American,” King says. “His family were Jewish immigrants. You should really pick up a book sometime.”
I heave Rose out of her seat and wrap my arms around her middle. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind after I’m done saving her life!”
With a guttural grunt, I push into the tiny woman’s diaphragm with everything I am. I’m rewarded with a cartoonish pop sound as the chunk of meat flies from her mouth and lands in the gator pit. Fish rush the globule as it floats toward the bottom.
Rose sucks in a deep breath and turns to face me, eyes wide. Thank you, she mouths.
Grim rises from his seat and places his wrinkled hands on her shoulders. “What have I told you, my darling one? You must chew better. This is the third time this week.”
“This week?” I screech. “Dude, if she’s choking this often, you really need to learn how to help her yourself. This is dangerous.”
The spindly little man stands taller and leads his lover back to her chair. “She has a constriction from her scarring. It has always been this way. We manage.”
“If you want me to teach you, I don’t mind,” I say. “All you have to do is—”
“No, thank you. I cannot bring myself to save a life.”
I wait for him to fucking elaborate, but does he? No.
I look at Rose. “And you’re . . . okay with this?”
Rose smiles at me and nods her head as she pops another fritter into her mouth.
King leans forward and grabs one as well. “He’s known as the Grim Reaper. His touch is death, my beauty.” He winks and pops the bit of fried conch into the air. It would have been sexy as hell if it had landed in his mouth, but it bounces off his head and leaves behind a few golden crumbs.
I bite the inside of my cheek, but not even that can stop me from laughing. Rose joins in as well, though silently. She opens her mouth and leans—
Nope, she’s just choking again.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
I jump from my seat and haul her upright. I snatch her against my chest, and out it comes. The meat flies low this time and bounces across the floor. I pat her back and help her into her seat.
“Listen, Rose. I don’t know how many more of these I have in me. Either King has to save you next, or you need to take smaller bites.”
Rose gives me a sheepish grin, followed by an adorable thumbs-up. Then she grabs another fritter. At least she’s nibbling this one.
The meal continues, and the whole thing goes better than I ever anticipated.
Grim doesn’t call me a crab in English or German as we eat.
The food is divine. Rose doesn’t even choke for the rest of the meal.
Probably because I insist on cutting everything into small pieces, but still. I’m calling it a win.
And King has been stroking my thigh, saying all the right things, and making me feel like we’re on one really strange double date. I can’t decide if that’s a bad thing or if I should just enjoy this moment while it’s still mine.
I choose the latter.
When he strokes my thigh this time, I spread my legs a bit.
His fingertips explore lower, rewarding me for giving him permission.
I love that he never presses. He waits like an obedient beast. No pawing.
No whining. No insistence. He stands at the threshold and holds fast until his mistress invites him inside to heel at her feet.
He nudges the romper aside and strokes my pussy through my panties. “Would anyone like dessert?” he asks the table.
I bite my lip and close my eyes. He can’t seriously expect me to answer when he’s gracing such a sensitive part of my body with that featherlight touch.
“I could not eat more, even if I wished to,” Grim says, “and I do not wish to.”
I peek at Rose as she shakes her head.
King turns to me, pressing harder now and rubbing against my clit. “And you, my beauty? Would you care for something sweet?”
“No th—” My teeth click together as a snippet of pleasure jerks up my spine. I clear my throat and cross my legs, crushing his hand between them. “No thanks.”
He pulls his hand back and places two fingertips against his lips, as if he’s thinking. I’m close enough to see his tongue flick against the tips. Oh, he’s thinking, all right. Now I am as well.
Eleven times thirteen is . . . Oh, fuck, I don’t want to do this anymore.
“So, are we going back to the RVs now?” I ask.
Almost immediately, I feel like an ass. It sounds as if I’m ready to be rid of Grim and Rose. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I actually had a good time with them once Grim loosened up—whatever the fuck that means for him.
I just want to hurry up and get King back to camp so I can rip off his clothes and ride him hard.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m not in a rush or anything. We can stay longer.”
Fuck, why do I talk? I never say the right thing. Now I’ve committed to more time.
Grim looks at the gator tank. “Were we not supposed to see the feeding?”
King winces; it’s almost imperceptible, but I catch it. Probably because I had the same internal reaction. He knows I’m primed and ready, and I know he’s hard as steel in those shorts.
Grim and Rose have their telepathy, and King and I have ours.
“Yes, I’d almost forgotten about the feeding demonstration,” King says, his charming smile back on his face. He rises from the table, and we follow suit, though he’s quick to turn his front away from us.
A staff member appears from the shadows and asks if we’re ready. King says yes, but I’m not so sure. I don’t want to see some cute little deer get eaten by one of these gators. I get that they need to eat too, but that doesn’t mean I need to watch it.
Sensing my hesitation, King tells Grim and Rosie to go ahead with the staff. They follow the worker through a narrow wooden door and into another room.
King’s finger presses beneath my chin, lifting my face. “Look at me,” he whispers.
I keep my eyes downcast.
“When will you learn to trust me?” His thumb strokes my jaw. “When have I ever given you a reason for mistrust?”
“I don’t want to watch them eat an animal, King.” I finally look into his steel eyes. “Don’t make me do this.”
His face grows serious, and he steps into me. His lips are so close to mine. Too close to mine . . .
I take a step back, but he matches it. I gain no ground, and before I know it, my back is against the glass partition holding back the biggest alligators I’ve ever seen.
And yet, I’m much more afraid of what’s in front of me.
I turn my head as he closes in. “King,” I whisper. “Don’t make me do this.”
But I’m not talking about watching an alligator eat a deer now.
“I will never make you do anything,” he says against my neck, his voice thick and rough. “When have I ever shown you differently?”
I swallow and close my eyes. “You haven’t.”
His hands ease onto my hips. “And I won’t. Now, come with me and trust that you’ll enjoy what I’ve set up for us.”
I turn my head and open my eyes. He’s no longer in kissing range, so my heart returns to a normal rhythm.
Then footsteps ring overhead, and my attention shifts to the ceiling, where Grim and Rose step onto a catwalk above us.
It stretches over the gator enclosure, which is sure to give us a good view.
Fabulous.
But as he turns and I follow him into the next room, I can’t shake a different sort of uneasy feeling. Underneath the panic I felt at the thought of kissing him, there was a much more frightening emotional undercurrent—disappointment that it didn’t happen.
If I kiss King, that’s it for me. I’m screwed. And so is he.
Maybe it’s time I finally tell him why this Josie’s never been kissed, and why it absolutely must stay this way.