Page 78 of Kings Fear No One
I turn my head to the side, refusing to meet his icy gaze. His spindly fingers are clenched around my wrists, his pants for air heavy as he exerts himself. His hips work fast, jerking in stabbing motions that feel like torture from the inside.
I’m being torn apart thrust by thrust. Groan by groan. Each second that passes is another second of my destruction, another piece falling away.
“So beautiful,” he grunts, gathering speed. “So innocent.”
My voice is gone, trapped in my throat. The only sound I’m able to produce is that of a strangled cry.
Pain and panic welled up in my chest that bubbles out of me.
And still it continues. It goes on for hours.
“Look at me!” he hisses, grabbing my face. “Look at your Leader when he graces you with his seed.”
He sinks deeper as I cry harder. As my body, my mind, my soul begs for it to end…
A gasp sputters out of me, the sheets soaked in sweat. My body’s shaking. My arms and legs thrash. I fight to wake from the dream that felt too real.
I’m in Logan’s bedroom. The room’s pitch dark and quiet. The other side of the bed’s empty.
Logan’s gone.
Panic strikes my heart, making it beat faster. Where did he go? How could I sleep through him getting out of bed?
I scramble to get up. The sheet’s wrapped around me in a way that’s more difficult than it should be to untangle—being half asleep in the dark, struck by panic, makes it feel like an impossible puzzle to solve.
I can’t take a full breath. The panic’s so clogged up inside that it comes out as a broken sound.
Panic that quickly spirals into outright fear.
Logan’s gone and I’m all alone. I’m in a room steeped in darkness, where the shadows feel suffocating and the unknown terrifying. Remnants from the bad dream linger like a ghost intent on haunting me. Abraham’s presence that refuses to let me go.
Tears wet my eyes, a pitiful little sob warbling out of me.
Vaguely, I realize it’s ridiculous. I’m aware how silly and pathetic it is.
But I can’t turn off these emotions rushing me. These intense reactions that almost feel chemically induced.
I bend my knees, drawing them to my chest, burying my head forward.
Barely a second later, the door flings open. Logan strides in, flicking on the light. He scans the room as if in search of the threat he must eliminate.
When he notices it’s just me curled up on the bed, he cuts across the room in a couple steps to make it to me.
“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“I had a dream and it felt…” I shake my head, wiping my eyes. “It felt real. Then I woke up and you weren’t…”
Here.
Logan understands even though I’ve trailed off. He sits down on the side of the bed and pulls me toward his chest. His thick, tattooed arms wrap around me, holding me in place. Warmth that feels instantly comforting and secure. I tuck my face into the nook between his bicep and the side of his torso and allow myself a moment to indulge in him.
Inhale his scent. Feel how hard and well-built he is.
For my own selfishness.
So I can calm down.
He’s started stroking my hair, rubbing my back. “I had a call come in. Important club business. I went into the living room to take it. Didn’t want to wake you.”
