Page 73 of Vengeful King

I still can’t believe I’m here. Part of me is still shaken by it, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. I denied how much I wanted him for so long; it’s almost like a fever dream. But I haven’t woken up yet.

It felt so good to be in his arms.

I didn’t want to admit it, but alone in bed, the thought comes freely. I enjoyed what he gave me. I wanted something rough, something powerful. I’d never been able to have something like this. All my partners have been unsatisfying in the end, and most have been assholes too.

But this isn’t that. I’m getting much more than I ever have before.

It still feels like I’m waiting for something, though. Maybe in part, it’s the issue with Yuri. Lachlan is still waiting on news from the Russians, and the O’Reilly family has its own investigation running. Everyone is preoccupied.

So it feels like we’ve slid under the radar to do this.

I don’t know how this happened. It’s probably because I was alone for so long, and I tell myself that having nightmares for partners before Lachlan didn’t help. It’s part comparison, after all.

But it’s not just that, because somehow, this man I was supposed to kill—this man who took me captive—has started to feel like the only thing grounding my life. He’s been the only constant, the only thing that’s remained the same.

Something that’s becoming as necessary to me as air.

As much as the sex felt like a shift, it isn’t unfounded. After all, when we met, the attraction was there. It didn’t matter who we were or what we were doing. I wanted him, and he wanted me.

It was just everyone and everything else that got in the way.

So he makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, makes me want things I’ve never tried. I’m addicted to him in a terrifying way, and it’s especially terrifying because I still don’t know how he feels about me.

He opened up when I visited my mother only to pull away again, cold throughout the meeting with the Russians. Then he changed completely, suddenly giving in to what we’d both wanted from the beginning. But I still don’t know if it was real or just a spur of the moment, just an attempt to get it out of his system.

I just don’t know.

I do know waiting in bed won’t change anything. I learned that lesson a long time ago, when I was in chemo. I learned that waiting for life to happen is a mistake.

So I roll out of bed and pull my hair back. I go down the stairs, sore but relaxed, and catch a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror.

I look good. Better than I have in a while, maybe. I’m still in pajama shorts, and they’re so short they make my legs look a mile long. My shirt is thin, almost see-through, and it hangs off one shoulder.

I look like what I wanted to look like when I was alone. Like someone’s been fucking me and paying attention tome,instead of me looking after someone else all the time.

I’m almost entirely down the stairs when I hear voices and realize Lachlan’s brothers are visiting.

I feel an immediate rush of excitement I can’t quite squash, followed by a pang of uncertainty. I want to know them better, especially after asking him a few questions about them, but I don’t want to just rush in when they probably don’t trust me.

And I feel almost shy. I don’t know if I can look any of them in the eye properly without feeling like a teenager, feeling like I’m about to get caught at every turn. I don’t know if he’s told anyone about us, or if there’s even anusto talk about.

I hold my breath and walk right into the living room. I’m surprised to see not just the brothers, but two women.Rose and Willow,I remember, and I can remember who’s who based on the descriptions I heard at the club.

Rose is blonde and smartly dressed. I heard she works for a museum, and she looks like it. Willow is small and thin, her hair wavy and dark. She has a wise look about her, but a hopefulness too that looks young.

They see me come in first. They smile, not too friendly but welcoming enough. Rose is the first to say something.

“Hi. Katrina, right?”

“Yes. You’re Rose? I heard your name at the club.”

“Only good things, I hope,” she says, smiling. There’s no hesitation in her voice; she’s in command, confident. “Did we wake you?”

“Oh, no,” I say quickly, glancing down at my clothes. “I just…didn’t expect people.”

I’m self-conscious of my outfit almost immediately; it’s pretty obvious Lachlan and I had sex. It’s probably also apparent that I’m comfortable enough to come downstairs the way I look—so even if we hadn’t, it would look like I was trying.

Willow nods toward the men. “Well, they’re preoccupied, so don’t worry.”

---