Page 39 of Wanted By a King

Fuck. Why didn’t I consider that she’d be missing them? Especially after yesterday.

It was the first holiday she’s experienced without her family. She may have managed to get through the holiday itself, but now, I can clearly see her heartache.

“I’ll take you,” I state, and she frowns, shaking her head and tugging her hand from my grasp.

“No.”

“No?” I ask. “Why the fuck not?”

“Not you. The twins. Or someone else. Just not you.”

Ouch. Fuck if that doesn’t hurt like a blade just got plunged into my fucking chest.

“Why the fuck not me?” I ask, not able to hide how fucking offended I am.

“Because, Grayson!” she yells, standing abruptly, making me fall back on my ass as she towers over me. “I don’t want you anywhere near my mom or Leslie! You didn’t fucking save them, so you don’t get to be near them!”

Jesus fucking Christ. This again.

I leap up off the dirt, grabbing her upper arm as she makes to storm off, and spin her to me.

“You wanna go to the cemetery, then I’m the one taking you. No one fucking else. Take it or leave it!”

Her nostrils flare as more tears spill over, and I can tell she wants to slap me.

“Why can’t you just let someone else take me?! Why do you have to be so fucking smothering?!”

Her words are slicing, and I just want to fucking shake her and remind her of the message on the wall of her parents’ bedroom. But there’s no use. She didn’t believe it was real then, and she’s not going to believe my words now.

Roughly gripping her chin, I draw closer until our breaths mingle.

“You want to do something? Then I am the one that does it with you. I’ve fucking told you that you are mine. I’m not going to keep reminding you.”

“But I don’t want you near them,” she whispers, her lower lip wobbling, so I nod.

“Fine. I’ll keep my fucking distance.”

“You will?” she asks, brows high.

“Fucking hell, Zoe. I know I’m a fucking prick, but I’m not the enemy here. I want to keep you safe. And, yes, shock fucking horror, I actually want to make you happy. I know what it’s like to experience loss. No way will I try to stop you from taking the time you need to grieve at your mom and sister’s graveside.”

A sob escapes her, and even though she stiffens, she lets me pull her to my chest as I wrap my arms around her.

We stand in the yard for a few minutes as she cries silently, and when I pull back, wiping her tear-stained cheeks with my thumbs, the look she gives me is filled with so much innocence that it nearly brings me to my knees.

Her words from the cabin a couple of days ago flash through my mind.

“Being held captive isn’t living, it’s merely existing.”

She was wrong. She’s not simply existing. She’s trying to survive. And under all her sass and fight is a grieving girl thrown into a cruel world of violence and vengeance with her as the major fucking prize.

When I find her dad, I’m going to gut him, put everything back in, stitch him up, and then fucking gut him again!

“Come on. Let’s go.” I gesture my head toward the street, and she nods slowly, giving in and accepting that if she wants to visit with her dead family, she has to endure me taking her.

The ride to the cemetery is uneventful apart from the dull ache in my shoulder. Zoe remains quiet, her head resting on my back as we ride, her arms tight around my waist as she holds on.

I bring us around to the back entrance, parking my bike in the shade of the trees where I can overlook the area to make sure we don’t get any surprise visitors.

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