Page 45 of Roma King
Iclose my eyes and I see flames. Vibrant red, amber, burned orange, and shimmering gold. The flames sway and dance in a sea of color, and I curse myself for my own motherfucking stupidity. I shouldn’t have taken the phone back to her. I shouldn’t have sat in that bar and waited for her, knowing she would come. Knowing I would speak to her, that I’d look down into her eyes, smell the sweet perfume of that creamy, perfect skin, and that I’d imagine what she would taste like on the tip of my tongue. Knowing that I’d find myself spellbound by the shift of the light over all that glorious red hair, and I’d be unable to stop myself from thinking about it afterwards.
The smell of fresh sheets floods my nose as I pull the bed covers up over my head, growling under my breath. It’s early, too much light pouring through the windows into the loft. My bones ache after last night’s fights. I can tell my torso is peppered with bruises from the way it hurts like hell just trying to fucking breathe, but I don’t give a shit about that right now.
Soft, pliable, bitable lips. Baby pink.
A well-proportioned nose that turns up ever so slightly at the end.
Pale freckles, lightly dusting high cheekbones.
Mercurial, hazel eyes, brown first, then green, then blue, all in the span of a few short breaths.
I want…
I want more than anything in this world to fuck that girl so hard she’ll never want another man again, no matter how long she lives.
I shudder as I close my hand around my erection. I’m so fucking hard, it feels like my dick’s going to break as I begin working long strokes up and down the shaft.
I’ve never seen her smile. I can imagine what it would look like, though. I can also imagine what she’d look like underneath me, naked as the day she was born, her tits bare, her nipples peaked as she writhes and moans my name, begging me to come inside her. She wouldn’t last five seconds in a bed with me. I’d make fucking sure of it.
Doesn’t take long formeto come this morning, either. I can’t hold off. The very thought of her is intoxicating. My senses are alight, my insides combusting as my back bows away from the bed. With my hand covered in my own come, I slide it up and down my dick, shivering at the aftershocks of pleasure that snap through me like electricity. Fuck, that feels good.Seriouslygood. Zara’s hot, wet little mouth would feel better, but with that out of the question, my palm and my five-star imagination are living up to the task.
I groan as I get up.
Fuck.
Everything hurts. Like I went head to head with four different guys last night and got my ass kicked. Funnily enough, I did go head to head with a bunch of fighters last night, butIcame out on top.Idid the ass kicking. The shitty thing about winning a fight is this, though: no matter how quick you are, no matter how hard you hit, no matter how fast it’s all over, your opponent’s bound to get a few hits in on their way down. That’s just the way it goes. I was on fire last night, knocking the wind out of men twice my size, embarrassing the fuck out of them in front of their fake-titted, fake-lipped, Barbie doll girlfriends, and all because of my encounter with Zara.
I felt invincible. Unstoppable. Undefeatable. The way she looked up at me, sitting there on that bar stool, attitude and defiance laser-beaming out of those beautiful eyes? Holy fucking shit. It had taken everything in me to not grab a handful of that luscious hair, to tip her head back and lay a kiss on her that would have branded her down to her very bones. She would have been mine right there and then. I could have made it happen—I saw it on her. Hidden amongst her anger and the shadow of her concern, I witnessed the desire on her face, and my blood had roared in response. My lust was a primal song that blasted through my body, and it hasn’t stopped singing ever since. Walking away from her last night was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. Firstly, because my dick was so hard that by that point walking in general had been a very painful thing to accomplish, but secondly, more importantly, it was difficult because I knew I wasn’t going to see her again.
Yeah, I invited her to call me, but I knew the truth of it then just as well as I do now. Despite the way she was looking at me, like she wanted to climb up on top of me and ride the living shit out of me, she’ll never call. She’ll never seek me out, the way I sought her out. She’s too sensible. Toosmart. I like and detest that about her in equal measure.
I may have shown some restraint and stopped myself from going through her shit, but I did do one thing with her phone before I gave it back to her. The number I stored will probably go unnoticed for months, and when she does stumble across it, she’ll probably have trouble recalling who she met that would have warranted the contact name,‘Raised By Wolves.’
That had entertained me more than it should have—her little parting shot across the bow on the street outside the fair. Little does Zara Llewelyn know, but she was right. Iwasraised by wolves. One wolf in particular, with a penchant for ripping people’s throats out and leaving them to exsanguinate in the dirt.
As I brush my teeth, I allow the mantra that’s been pounding like a drum inside my head for the past twenty-four hours to repeat itself over and over again:She could be yours. She could be yours. She could be yours.
There’s a sharp, determined light in my eyes as I stare myself down in the mirror, and even I recognize it as dangerous. If I listen to that voice in my head, telling me to take what I want and to make it mine, the consequences…god, the consequences will be catastrophic.
Shelta forbade me from pursuing her. I wouldn’t normally give a shit what my mother thinks about anything, but there was the threat. ‘If you get involved with her, the two of you will end up regretting it for the rest of your lives. I will personally make sure of it.’Not to mention the final, warning note to her words.You will stay away from the woman in your dreams. She’s not for you, do you hear me? She’ll be the ruin of us all.
If Shelta believes as I do, that Zara is the woman I’ve been dreaming about for half my damn lifetime, then I can’t go fucking near her. I can’t. Shelta will see her as a threat, and my mother does not take kindly to threats. She dispatches them swiftly, and she does so without a second thought. I’ve seen the fire in Zara’s eyes. I’ve heard it in her voice. She’s a warrior, but Shelta is fucking ruthless, and I wouldn’t wish my mother’s wrath upon the heads of even my worst fucking enemies.
Still. The chant will not leavemyhead.
Claim her. Mark her. Fuck her. Bind her. Sink yourself so deep inside her that she doesn’t know which fucking way is up.
I spit into the sink, and then I bare my teeth at my reflection in the mirror, growling at myself under my breath.You can’t have her. Fuck someone else. Get your dick sucked by a pretty blonde. A bartender with big tits, who’ll make you a whiskey sour after she’s made you come.
This is what my mother would say to me. She’d never curse the way I curse, but Shelta was born blessed with the innate ability to string a series of common, inoffensive words together into a sentence and make you feel like you just got fucked in the ass. Four nights ago, she did precisely that as she reminded me (apparently for the last time) of my duty, and what must be done to protect the Rivin family. WhatIhave to do: find a woman. Marry her. Accept the crown. Be a good son, and a good king, and don’t dare fucking complain about it, not once. Not even under my breath.
Once I’m showered, dressed, and I have a coffee in my hand, I plant myself out on the sprawling balcony and I turn on my cell.
I usually only turn it on for a couple of hours a day. One hour, early in the morning, if I can manage it. If I only have to live with the torture of potential contact with the outside world for a mere sixty minutes, then I find I’m less likely to punch holes in my walls. Anyone who needs to reach me knows how this works, and they make contact accordingly. Anyone who doesn’t know the system doesn’t need to know it and can go fuck themselves for all I care.
My irritation levels rise as I sit, sipping on my coffee, eyes scanning the city skyline, waiting for the first chime to disturb the silence. It’s bound to fucking happen. It always does. There’s no escaping it. I’m almost surprised when ten minutes tick by. Then another five. I begin to settle into the hope that maybe today I’ll be blessed with a little peace and quiet. And that is my mistake. I should know better than to even form the thoughts in my head, because the moment I do…
The ringtone blares out, loud as fuck. I pick up the phone and answer it, already knowing who it is. She hasn’t called me since the day I was banished, but I knew I’d opened a floodgate when I visited her the other night. My mother’s voice is even more flat and monotone than usual as she greets me. “I hear you made it out of the cage alive again. I suppose I should be relieved.”
