Page 70 of Vengeful King

I’m not sure whether to push, so I wait for her to open up on her own. It takes a few minutes; I can see her struggle the same way I did at first when she started asking questions.

It’s a dangerous line to toe for us. But in the end, the desire to talk about these things is stronger than any fear of consequences.

“My father left when I was young,” she explains. “He just…I don’t know. Thought it was all too hard.”

“What was? You’re an only child,” I say. I don’t add that if he left, that was an excuse. Something to ease his ego. No real man would leave a wife and child like that.

“I had cancer.”

I can’t help the way my hand stutters. I don’t know how to respond at first, but I set down the knife I’ve been using to cut vegetables. I turn and lean back against the counter, searching her face.

I remember the scar on her chest. An accident, she’d said. It seemed plausible at the time.

“How young?”

She shrugs. “High school. I missed a lot. And he was gone, so…it was just me and my mom.”

“Was she also…?”

“No. No, the Alzheimer’s came after. Early onset, they said. It wasn’t triggered by anything; it was just time for her.”

I can’t imagine what it must have been like. I can’t fathom an eighteen-year-old Katrina battling cancer, missing prom, mourning a father that wasn’t worth her tears. She fought it all and came out the other end only to face her mother’s decline.

I’ve known she’s strong. Hearing all this—even just the minor details—only confirms what I already suspected.

Katrina isn’t just strong. She’s unbelievably powerful, unbroken. Everything she’s been through might have hurt, but she’s come out intact. Whatever hurts she has now, they’re nothing compared to what she could have had. She could have shattered entirely.

“I didn’t have much time after recovery to celebrate,” she adds. “It was out of one hospital and into another. There was no celebration.”

“But you deserved one.”

“Maybe. But living was enough for me.”

She smiles, and despite the obvious struggle and pain she’s been talking about, it’s real. She truly believes that surviving was enough.

Hearing her speak about her life draws me in, despite my intentions. It reminds me why I was weak in the first place, why my resolve wavered.

And looking at her now, the hunger I have for her rises once again.

It’s the same as when I watched her at the club. I could see then that she was different, stronger. I wanted her because of that. Now, knowing what I do, I only know that I was right. I only know that I want her even more.

I shouldn’t do this. I’ve told myself the truth—that I can’t have ties to this woman. I have a duty to my family, an upcoming wedding. But those things don’t seem as important now. Not when I’m looking at her across the island, seeing her for who she is.

The voice telling medon’t do itisn’t as strong as the urge to move closer to her. I don’t think anymore; I know all the reasons not to take things further. I know all the things that could go wrong.

But I don’t give a damn.

I walk around the side, right up to her, and kiss her.

I can feel her surprise. She’s frozen by it for a few moments, locked in place by shock. But that fades, and she’s suddenly kissing me back. It deepens as she melts into me, responding like she’s been waiting for this the entire time.

Maybe she was waiting. I know what it was like when I touched her before. I know I’m not the only one that’s affected.

She kisses me back, a low moan in her throat, her hands clinging to the front of my shirt. I can’t help how I respond. I hold her thighs, gripping tight, feeling her body in my hands. I can feel her tremble at my touch, shake when I kiss her deeper.

I want more.

I can feel the chemistry between us take over. However much we both know we shouldn’t do this, I know we both also want it. I have my family, Katrina has hers—but despite that fact and the way she tried to kill me, the way I took her captive, we can’t stop ourselves.

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