Page 23 of King

King raised an eyebrow, disbelief evident on his face. “Why is it that every time someone’s told they fell asleep, they deny it?”

“I don’t know because I didn’t fall asleep,” Amara retorted, her tone laced with defiance. “I was just resting?—”

“Your eyes,” King interjected, finishing her sentence. His tone was dry but amused. “Another classic line from people who were clearly sleeping.”

Amara narrowed her eyes at him, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing. “Can you move up? There’s no room for me.”

“You’re riding in front of me this time,” King said firmly, his expression leaving no room for debate. “You scared the hell out of me when I felt you slipping.”

“I wasnotslipping,” she muttered, her cheeks warming. “I was—ugh, never mind.”

King ignored her grumbling and helped her climb onto the bike, positioning her in front of him. “Here,” he said, adjusting her legs to one side and guiding her to lean back against him. Her head settled just under his chin. “That’s better. Now I can make sure you don’t fall.”

Amara huffed, but the warmth of his chest was oddly comforting. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“I am smart,” King said with a chuckle. “And I’m guessing you’re not much of a morning person, either.”

“Why would you say that?” she asked, frowning up at him even as her eyes drooped.

“Because you’re a little grumpy when you’re woken up,” he teased, the grin evident in his voice.

“Am not,” Amara mumbled, yawning again as her body relaxed against him. “I was just resting my eyes.”

King chuckled softly, the sound rumbling against her. “Sure you were.”

A small smile played across Amara’s lips as the bike roared to life again, the vibrations lulling her further into a drowsy haze. Despite the dark road ahead and the grim task awaiting her, she felt an overwhelming sense of safety and peace. Resting her head more fully against King’s chest, she let herself drift, trusting him to carry her forward—literally and figuratively.

CHAPTER 12

King parked his bike in front of the county morgue and shut off the engine. The hum of the bike ceased, replaced by an eerie stillness. He glanced down at Amara, who hadn’t moved. She’d fallen into a deep sleep shortly after they started the second leg of their ride. Her body was warm and snug against him, her breath steady, and he had to admit it felt...right to have her in his arms.

Her long, white hair framed her face, and he could see the faint blush on her cheeks from the cold air. She’d shivered a few times on the ride despite wearing his jacket. Frowning, King shifted his hands, careful not to disturb. He couldn’t help but notice how perfectly she fit against him like a puzzle piece he didn’t realize was missing.

He looked up at the stark, gray building in front of them. His jaw tightened. This wasn’t a place anyone wanted to be, least of all someone like Amara, who was already carrying the weight of so much grief. King admired her strength, even though he wished she didn’t have to be strong right now.

“Amara,” he said softly, leaning close to her ear. He hated to wake her, but she couldn’t stay out in the cold much longer. “Time to wake up.”

She stirred slightly but didn’t open her eyes. Instead, she burrowed closer to him. “Mmm,” she murmured sleepily, her voice barely audible.

King groaned inwardly, torn between letting her sleep or doing what needed to be done. “Come on,” he said a little louder, gently shaking her shoulder. “We’re here.”

Her eyes fluttered open, but she didn’t move. Instead, she stared up at him, blinking as the realization dawned on her. She stayed still for a moment as if clinging to the last remnants of a dream. Finally, her eyes filled with a quiet resignation.

“It wasn’t a nightmare, was it?” she asked, her voice small and filled with sorrow. Her breath formed soft puffs of mist in the chilly air.

King’s chest tightened. He wished he could tell her it was all just a bad dream, that none of this was real. But he couldn’t lie to her. “No,” he said gently, his voice steady. “It’s not.”

Amara sat up slowly, yawning as she stretched. He helped her off the bike, his hands firm but careful as if she might break under his touch. She wobbled slightly, and he steadied her until she found her balance. Her long hair was windswept and wild, and she absently tried to smooth it down as they started toward the building.

“Cold?” King asked, noticing her shiver again despite wearing his jacket.

“A little,” she admitted, pulling the leather jacket tighter around her. “But I’ll be okay.”

He studied her as they walked. Her golden eye gleamed in the dim light, the defining mark of her half-breed nature. King frowned, knowing she was half-human and the cold would affect her more than a full-blood. He’d also noticed something peculiar earlier...her tears were clear, not tinged with blood like half-breeds and full-bloods. It was another mystery he intended to bring up with Slade when he got the chance.

As they approached the morgue’s entrance, King placed a hand on the door handle and turned to her. “You ready?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Amara hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line as she squared her shoulders and nodded.

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