Page 21 of King's Claim
“You son of a—” She threw the blanket aside, standing, uncaring of her nakedness as she stalked toward him.“You don’t get to say that.Not after last night.”
King clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms.She was glorious, fire in every step, her fury lighting the room brighter than the dawn.But that only made it worse.
“I’m not good for you, Lena.I’ll ruin you if you let me,” King told her.
Her laugh was bitter, cutting.“You already think you ruined me?That fast?Newsflash, King.I walked in here with my eyes open.I knew what I was doing,” Lena said.
He shook his head, muscles coiled tight.“You don’t know what it costs to be with me.To be mine.You’d be a target the second word got out.Every bastard with a grudge against me would see you as the way to bleed me dry.You think I can live with that?”
“You think I can live with you pretending last night meant nothing?”Her voice cracked, but her chin stayed high.“You’re not some monster who used me.I saw you.I felt you.You don’t get to shove me away and pretend I imagined it.”
King’s chest burned.God, she was too much.Lena was too brave, too stubborn, and too right.He wanted to drag her back into his arms, bury himself inside her until the world disappeared.But he couldn’t.
He reached for the only weapon left.Distance.Coldness.“You’ll thank me later,” King told her.
Lena’s eyes narrowed, hurt bleeding into rage.“Don’t you dare.Don’t you dare act like you’re protecting me when really you’re just scared.”
The word hit like a fist to the gut.Scared.
She stepped closer, right into his space, tilting her head back to look him in the eye.
“You hide behind your scars, your patches, your damn whiskey, but I see you, King.And it scares the hell out of you,” she told him.
He sucked in a breath, every muscle straining.
“Say it,” she demanded, voice trembling with fury.“Say I didn’t matter.Say last night didn’t mean anything.”
The words stuck in his throat.King couldn’t.Not with her so close, not with her scent still clinging to his skin, not with the memory of her whispering his name etched into his bones.
Silence stretched, thick and dangerous.
Lena’s eyes shimmered, but she refused to look away.Finally, she stepped back, grabbing her clothes from the floor.She dressed quickly, her movements sharp, her jaw tight.
When she pulled her shirt over her head, she turned to him one last time.
“You don’t get to use me and throw me aside, King.You don’t get to decide what I can handle.You’re not the only one who’s been through hell,” Lena told him flatly.
Then she was gone, the office door slamming behind her.
King stood there, heart pounding, every instinct screaming at him to chase her.To drop to his knees if he had to, to beg her to stay, but he didn’t move.
Because he was King, and Kings didn’t beg.King poured another drink, but the whiskey tasted like ash on his tongue.
