Page 66 of King

“Have you ever shot a real gun before?” Charger asked, looking equally impressed.

“Nope.” Amara glanced at the screen. “Just on here. But I know guns and their sounds pretty well.”

“Holy shit,” Charger muttered, shaking his head. “That’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” she said, looking a little embarrassed by the attention. “But it’s just a game.”

“King! Come watch me play!” Joey called, frustration creeping into his voice as he cursed at someone in the game.

King was about to move when Amara spoke again.

“Yeah, alright,” he answered Joey before turning back to her. “You good?”

“Yep.” She hesitated, then shifted on her feet. “I saw some chicken in the fridge when I was getting water. Do you mind if I fry some up? There should be enough for everyone.”

King frowned. She looked uncomfortable like she wasn’t sure if she was overstepping. That didn’t sit right with him.

He closed the distance between them, gently tilting her chin with his fingers. “Amara, anything in this house is yours. You don’t have to ask me. Do you understand?”

She blinked up at him before nodding, pressing into his touch for just a second before he let her go.

“You better go watch Joey before he freaks out,” she said with a small smile. “He’s been asking when you were getting back.”

King nodded but didn’t move right away. Instead, he watched her walk toward the kitchen, his gaze lingering on her until she disappeared from sight.

Only then did he turn to Joey, already wanting everyone to fucking leave and for Joey to go to bed so he could have the rest of the night with Amara. Yeah, he had it fucking bad, and he wasn’t upset about it one bit.

He sat down next to Joey, pretending to focus on the screen, but his mind was still in the kitchen, where Amara was moving around, completely unaware of the war waging inside him. He could hear the faint clatter of pans, the fridge opening and closing. It was such a simple, domestic thing, yet it had his chest tightening with something deep and possessive. At the moment, all he cared about was clearing everyone out and finally having Amara all to himself.

CHAPTER 29

Amara stood in front of the stove, the sizzle of frying chicken filling the kitchen as she flipped each piece with a pair of tongs. The rich, savory aroma made her stomach growl. Cooking had always been something that calmed her. And tonight, standing here in King’s kitchen, it felt different. It felt...nice.

She hummed softly, poking at the chicken, then glanced down at her bare feet, wiggling her toes against the cool tile floor. She had changed into an old pair of sweats and her favorite oversized t-shirt, the fabric worn soft with time. Before she started cooking, she had pulled her hair into a quick ponytail, using a strand of her own hair to secure it since she had forgotten a hair tie. She probably looked like a mess, but for the first time in a long time, she didn’t care.

For the first time in a long time, she felt… content.

She exhaled slowly, soaking in the moment and enjoying the rare feeling of peace. It was fragile and delicate, like a bubble that could pop at any second. But she held onto it, knowingprecisely who was responsible for the warmth spreading through her chest. King.

The man in the other room, with his intense eyes and rough edges, was the reason she felt safe and wasn’t constantly looking over her shoulder waiting for the next blow to land. He had taken her in, giving her a place to breathe and rest. And damn it, she was going to soak up every second of it while she could. Guilt tried to invade her peaceful feeling, but she pushed it away for now. Later, she would feel the guilt about her brother’s death.

A deep voice rumbled from the doorway, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. “Smells good,” King said, his tone gruff yet warm.

She turned, finding him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his dark gaze locked onto her like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at. Her heart did that stupid little flip it always did around him.

“I heard from Steve that Sid’s cooking is the...” Amara frowned. “cat’s ass.”

King laughed, shaking his head. “Fucking Steve.”

“I don’t even know what that means, but a cat’s ass doesn’t sound very appetizing to me,” Amara said with a chuckle. “Is Steve a good Warrior? I mean, I’m sure he is. He just doesn’t seem serious like the others, which is why I’m asking.”

“Steve is someone I’d trust with my life. He is loyal and a damn good Warrior.” King replied, knowing to some, Steve seemed a little off.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that.” Amara bit her lip, wishing she had kept her mouth shut. “He’s just different from you and the others, not that I’ve met them all.”

King pushed off the doorframe, closing the distance between them. His presence was overwhelming in the best way, his heat wrapping around her even though he wasn’t touching her...yet.

“Steve is definitely different, but I’m not interested in talking about him,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “I’m more interested in you.”

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