Page 20 of The Kingpin's Omega Lover
“Drew also suggested you go to bed and rest, Mr. Kensley,” Conklin added.
“Yeah, that’s not fucking happening,” Kensley snapped.
“They’re coming home,” Malori said.
“I know he’s coming home.” Kensley’s tear-thickened voice bounced around the large room. “But this is the first time since we’ve lived here that he hasn’t come home when he said he would. I’m not going to sleep until he’s here with me. I can’t.”
“You can rest in bed without going to sleep.”
“No.” Kensley shook his head violently and clutched a pillow over his round belly. “I can’t. The last time I fell asleep without him, I was kidnapped and he was shot.”
Malori had been astonished the first time Kensley told him the full details of Kensley and Bishop’s time on a private island, and Kensley’s dramatic abduction by Marta and her people. The entire thing had felt pulled from a suspense movie plot. But then again, Malori’s own life at the Farm had been straight out of an X-rated thriller/mystery/horror.
The one thing he did understand was going to sleep in a familiar place and waking up alone, scared, with no idea what his life was about to become.
“Okay, you don’t have to go to bed,” Malori said gently. “But please, Kens, try to relax right here. They’re coming home.” To Conklin, he said, “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Conklin nodded to each of them, then returned to his post.
Malori scooted closer to Kensley but did not hug his friend. Malori still had trouble with casual touches, even with someone he trusted implicitly like Kensley. Which was why yesterday’s lesson with King still confused him so much. None of King’s touches had bothered him, and then with how physical they’dgotten with each other by the end? Why did friendly hugs with Kensley make his stomach squirm, but rolling around on the floor with King excited him?
“Why don’t you brush your teeth?” Malori said. “Then you’ll be ready to go right to bed when Bishop comes home. You look ready to collapse.”
“I’m going to be up every two hours to pee no matter what,” Kensley groused.
“Yes, you will, but your teeth will be clean. Please?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Malori helped him stand, then watched Kensley shuffle toward the stairs to the second-level rooms Kensley shared with Bishop. Kensley did not move fast, so hopefully the task would eat up most of the twenty minutes Conklin said it would take for Bishop and King to return. Keep Kensley distracted so he didn’t see how worried Malori was. So far, Kensley didn’t know or suspect that Malori and King’s relationship had gotten very, very physical yesterday.
Tonight had changed something deep inside of Malori that didn’t make any sense. His fear for King, his absolute terror that something had happened to King, was both immediate and strangely distant. It was like the memory of a horrible nightmare he’d had years ago was back, invading his waking hours, and Malori didn’t understand why. He didn’t understand his physical attraction to King when he’d never desired a man before.
Didn’t matter. He needed to see King with his own two eyes and know he was all right.
Malori fetched a third beer and drank half of it by the time the elevator dinged. He fumbled the bottle but didn’t drop it, and then froze in the middle of the living room. Since he didn’t know the nature of tonight’s meeting, he had no real expectation for what had gone wrong. He wasnotprepared for Bishop to walkin first, his left arm in a sling and bruises on his face. Malori squawked at the sight of the man, and then King shuffled in behind him.
King had a bruise on his forehead and a cut across the bridge of his nose, wounds reminiscent of a bar fight. But Malori knew better. These two careful, calculating professionals hadn’t gotten caught up in the moment and engaged in a pointless brawl.
“What happened?” Malori asked, unable to tear his gaze from King’s pinched face. “You look terrible.”
“Car accident,” King replied in a tone that suggested he wasn’t being completely truthful. “We’ve both been seen by doctors, there are no concussions, just a lot of bruises, and Bishop has a sprained wrist.”
“Fuck.”
“Where’s Kens?” Bishop asked.
“Upstairs, brushing his teeth. He’s waiting for you.”
Bishop bolted.
Malori crossed the room to stand in front of King, who’d lost a few shades of bravado once it was the two of them. Malori hated the marks on King’s face, but he was insanely happy to see him alive and mostly well. “Just a car accident?”
“Is an accident ever just an accident?” King walked stiffly to the couch and sank down. “You should get some sleep, Mal, I’ll be fine.”
“Bullshit. Something went wrong tonight, didn’t it?” He sat next to King, close enough their knees could touch if either of them moved their leg an inch. “Bishop wouldn’t have made Kensley worry for hours if it had only been a fender bender. He would have called.”
King tried to glare at him but didn’t seem to have the energy, and his handsome face settled into a disgruntled frown. “The meeting went fine. We had a setback on the way home.”
