Page 69 of Vengeful King

I shouldn’t be feeling like this. I’m still trying to keep walls up between myself and Katrina. But Nikolai didn’t help; the second he looked at her, I slipped. I felt the possessiveness flare up within me. I cut her off from him without thinking, even though I knew nothing would happen. He wouldn’t touch one of ours, prisoner or no.

I don’t want to get attached, but I’m lying to myself by thinking I’m not already. I’m drawn to her, attracted to her. I’m impressed by her strength and the resilience I’ve seen since I brought her home from the club. Those are the most important qualities to me in life, and in a woman, they’re undeniably attractive to me.

But I can’t have her, period. Not really. I’m promised to another woman, the wedding just around the corner. Regardless of the fact that I’ve barely met this other woman, she is the future that is waiting for me. There’s no alternative.

I have my duty and my path. I can’t stray for this woman that was sent to kill me. I can’t give everything up for this attraction.

Still, I can’t help but notice how pale and shaky Katrina is. I can see it when she climbs into the car, when her hands shake as she pulls her seatbelt on.

It’s more scared than I’ve seen her since she was tied up. I know it’s because of the meeting, because of Nikolai and his men. The meeting made this all a reality for her, a reminder of how deep she’s in now. She’s in over her head.

Even though she’s brave and stubborn and strong, even though she holds her own amazingly well, it’s too much. She may have grit, but that’s not all you need in this underworld. She doesn’t know anything about the Assembly and its families. She doesn’t know the complex web of relationships, truces, old blood.

It’s incredible she made it this far. I know what Yuri is like; he doesn’t tolerate anything. He has no patience. I’m surprised Katrina made it as long as she did without interference from him.

When I pull up to the house, she’s still shaky. I can see it, noticing how it burrows deep in her bones. The fear is real for her now.

I don’t want to care. I don’t want to involve myself with her, but I’m moving as soon as the front door opens. I don’t know why I’m doing it at all, ushering her to the kitchen. I just know she needs food before she passes out.

Katrina sits in the chair I direct her to. I can see the surprise on her face, eyes wide and lips barely parted. She’s swept up in it as much as I am, though, and she doesn’t object. She just pulls her legs up onto the barstool and watches me.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I know that making food will bring me some peace. I’m used to cooking for myself, and it always reminds me of my mother. It grounds me.

I take some things out of the refrigerator for pasta. I don’t pay much attention to doing anything in order; I just take out a cutting board for the tomatoes. I know Katrina is watching me, sitting across from me as I slice.

I can feel her hesitate. I don’t want her to, but I know I shouldn’t encourage her—so I keep my mouth shut.

“Your brothers. Do they always come over together?” she asks suddenly.

I blink. It’s not what I expected. I can’t find a reason to not answer. “Usually.”

“Because they work together? Or do they live close to each other?”

“We all live near each other,” I explain. “In our territory. It’s easier to all arrive together.”

Katrina nods, her gaze distant. She rests her chin in her hand, but I can see the gears turning in her head.

“Do they all have houses, too? They’re married, right?”

“Yes. Finn isn’t married, but Aiden and Connor are. Connor’s marriage is newer.”

“Right. Are their places like yours?”

“Not really. Aiden has more of our mother’s furniture. He likes the old-fashioned look.”

I peer across the island at her, curious. It’s a lot of questions. I don’t even know why I’m entertaining them.

But there’s something noticeably fascinated in her gaze, a pull that I can see even through her nervousness. She’s scared to push me, but she wants to know.

I realize that it’s not just casual questioning, either. I remember what her phone looked like; her contacts were nearly empty, and no one had spoken to her recently. She doesn’t have anyone. Her mother barely remembers her most times.

She’s clearly been on her own for a long time.

Despite myself, I’m curious. I’m curious if I’m right, if she’s truly alone or if there’s one person in her world that she confides in. I’m curious if she lives alone, where she lives, if she’s ever wanted more.

I don’t know what I’m doing when I open my mouth, but I ask, “What about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

“No.” She pauses, then her eyes seem distant. “Well, none that I know of.”

---