Page 51 of Making the King

Gray straightens and puffs out his chest. “Make me,” he challenges.

I smile sweetly at him. “And here I thought you’d never ask.” Before he can retort, I jump onto the bar. “Let’s dance.”

Angling my leg so the nose of my shoe connects, and not the point of the heel, I kick Gray in the arm. I don’t use all my power since I’m not actually trying to hurt him, only provoke him into letting go.

“You fucking bitch!” he shouts as I leap off the bar and onto the floor next to him. Then he shakes his head. “I’m not going to fucking fight you.”

“Why not?” I argue. “Scared to lose to a woman?”

I’m absentmindedly aware that Cain’s joined us, and that he, Sasha, Alana, and Tex are all placing bets on who’s going to win. I hope Gray hears it, just as I hope it’s going to rile him up.

He lets out an angry growl, and raises his fist, sending it in my direction. I quickly lift my arm to block him, which I manage just in time. But fuck me, he has a mean right hook.

“Again,” I encourage him. “Hit me like you really fucking mean it.”

He does, and I block all but one punch. That one lands on my tit.

“That’s dirty,” Sasha calls out.

“Foul play,” Alana agrees, laughter palpable in her voice. “No tit punching.”

After kicking Gray back, I quickly look over at the women and grin at them. But since I can’t afford to remain distracted, I turn back to Gray and discreetly force him toward the door as I keep moving closer to him.

It takes a few more kicks and punches, but we eventually reach the door that’s being held open by the bouncer.

“I win,” I declare as I force him to move one foot out the door. “So now you’re coming with me.”

Without waiting for his reply, I push him all the way out and slam the door behind us with the bouncer inside. We don’t need prying eyes for what I have in mind.

“Got a smoke?” I ask, only a little surprised when he pulls a pack and a lighter from his jeans pocket. “Thanks.”

I take it and light it, inhaling deeply as I watch him fumble to light one for himself. Damn, his hands are shaking badly, and I know it’s anger that’s at the forefront of his mind. He’s probably angry with me, but more importantly, he seems angry at the world.

“So what’s your damage?” I ask as I purse my lips and create a circle of the smoke I’m exhaling.

“My damage?” he barks, looking at me like I’m out of my mind.

I nod. “Why are you so angry? And honestly, why do you look homeless? Have they not given you a place to stay?”

Gray spits on the ground. “What’s your fucking damage? And why do you walk around looking like a trashy whore?”

Though his words sting, I shrug. I had a dig at him first and fair is fair. “My damage is my family,” I admit. “They raised me to be the perfect cum dumpster, and then they sold me to Rocco.”

“W-what?” he stutters, his eyes wide like he either can’t believe my words or that I’m telling him.

I don’t know why, but I feel an odd kinship to Gray. I recognize his anger, and that damaging attitude. But I don’t want him to end up doing something he can’t take back, something he’ll regret for the rest of his life.

“Why are you telling me that?”

Shrugging, I admit, “I asked you first, but that hardly seems fair if I don’t want to answer myself.”

He looks at me so long I’m close to giving up. Then he lights up another cigarette and leans back against the wall.

“I killed my dad,” he admits.

“Me too,” I offer. “But you don’t sound like you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “It was an accident, and I guess I didn’t really kill him. I just… it was my actions that got him killed.”

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