Page 13 of Making the King

Jerking awake, I shoot my leg out, instinct telling me to kick first and ascertain the situation later.

“Fuck!” Rochus grumbles.

Without wasting a second, I roll to the side and off the bed, positioning myself in a defensive crouch. As I narrow my eyes and look at Rochus who’s sprawled on his back, I register the fact I was on the bed and he’s only wearing his boxers.

“What did you do?” I snarl.

Realizing I’m still fully dressed, even wearing my heeled boots, I relax a little. It’s enough to notice the red welt matching the toe of my boot spreading on his chest.

“What did I do?” he sputters as he gets to his feet. “You fucking kicked me, you psycho. I was only trying to wake you up.”

I blink, feeling confused.

“Why did you take me to your bed? Trying to fuck me while I was asleep?” I spit. Even as I say it, that doesn’t feel right.

No, wait. I fell asleep in his arms after he… he…

“You fucking locked me in the bathroom, you puta,” I hiss. My Spanish accent is coming out heavier than usual.

During the three years in lockup, I’ve worked hard to rid myself of my accent, and it’s gotten a lot better. Though, there are still times, like now, where it’s hard to hide, especially when Spanish insults slip out as well.

Rochus runs a hand down his face, and to his credit, he looks shamefaced. “I’m sorry about that,” he sighs. “I didn’t know you were going to have a fucking panic attack.”

Shit.

He knows my weakness now.

“So what?” I say, scathingly. “If you think I’m weak enough for you to take advantage of me, you’re sorely mistaken.”

His eyes twinkle with amusement as he runs his hand across the mark from my kick. “You’re definitely not weak,” he chuckles. Then he schools his features, removing all traces of amusement. “And just for the fucking record, I won’t take advantage of you.”

I roll my eyes because isn’t that exactly what someone about to take advantage of me would say?

When he takes a few steps back, I finally get to my feet as well. Lord, even with the distance between us, he dwarfs me. At five-foot-nine I’m used to being amongst the tallest, but Rochus’ six-foot-five makes me seem like a child. Which I suppose is apt since I’m his fucking child bride.

“What happened to Julietta? That’s your sister, right?”

I glare at him. “Excuse me?”

Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that he knows that, but a part of me feels violated since he knows that about me when I know nothing about him. I suppose it’s possible he came across her name when he purchased me, but that doesn’t exactly make it better.

“You were screaming out her name in your sleep. Does she… I mean… is she okay?” He looks confused, but he sounds like he’s worried.

Huh, maybe he does actually care.

“She’s fine,” I say, my voice almost cracking. “She’s dead, so she’s in a better place.” I look upward, hoping what I’m saying is true.

“How did she die?” he asks.

A yawn escapes me, and I take my time stretching while I consider if I’m going to reply or not. It’s not like I owe him an answer, yet I find that I want to give him one. At least part of the truth.

I look into his dark eyes, surprised I can see my own reflection. “A monster killed my sister,” I croak.

“When?” he asks, taking a step closer to me.

Although I want to flinch away from his intensity, I stay in place. “Almost a year ago. It wasn’t long after I got transferred out of juvie.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “Who told you?”

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