Page 106 of Claimed By a King

What should this version of me do?

I huff in irritation at not having the answer to something as simple as what I want to do. Then it hits me, and I quickly wrap my pinky around his. I pull at where our fingers are intertwined.

A visible shudder runs through his body as, slowly, his gaze turns sharp, focused, and he looks directly at me. “Her real name is… was Erin,” he rasps.

“Okay,” I say, softly.

“Fuck!” he roars, ripping his finger from mine.

I watch as he agitatedly paces the length of the room while running his fingers through his wavy hair. He keeps muttering to himself, and the only bits I pick up sound like nothing more than curses.

“Fuck!” While shouting out his frustration and anger, he kicks at everything that gets in his way.

Feeling at a loss on how to help him, I look down at my hands. That’s when I see it. The blood. I don’t know if it’s his or mine, and it doesn’t really matter.

“Gray,” I call, surprised at how steady my tone is. “Get over here.”

His head snaps in my direction, and when I show him my bloodied hand, he exhales audibly and rushes to my side.

“Does it hurt? Fuck, I completely forgot to—”

I roll my eyes. “Shut up for a second.”

His trademark smirk makes an appearance as he cocks an eyebrow and tilts his head to the side. “I thought you wanted me to talk, Princess.”

Just like that, we slip back into our old dynamic, and I let out a relieved sigh at how easy and normal it feels. So maybe that part of me hasn’t changed all that much.

Again, I wrap my pinky around his and pull him down on the floor with me. I cross my legs and place my free hand on the fresh cut on my stomach. I try not to cringe as I pull my shirt up, but it stings since the blood is making it plaster to my skin.

“Show me,” I whisper.

Gray doesn’t need me to spell it out, and he willingly reveals my bloody handiwork on his toned stomach.

Without looking away, I unlock our pinkies and pull on his hand until it can reach my stomach. Then I run his pinky through the open wound before I do the same to him.

Every time I want to flinch away or hide from the monster I heard on the phone and the memories it stirred, Gray’s dark gaze is enough to keep me in the present.

“Zo,” he rasps. “What are you doing?” There’s an undertone of curiosity mixed with incredulity as he asks.

“Blood to blood,” I murmur. “Pinky to pinky, Gray.”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead in surprise. “That sounds like the beginning of an evil chant,” he says as he shakes his head.

“Maybe it is,” I quip. “So you better answer my question.”

My newfound strength isn’t a façade. Seeing Gray react that violently took over my own feelings, pushing them down until he became my sole focus. I hate seeing him so out of it, and if ignoring my fear helps him, then that’s what I’ll do.

“Erin was one of Loretta’s whores,” he says, and I nod for him to continue even though I’m not following. “Loretta owns the Sleep-Eazy Motel and runs a whorehouse there. While I was looking for you I found out that Adam went there, and when he did, he favored Erin. He made her say her name was Zoe.”

Ignoring the way my stomach churns, I ask, “Adam? As in—”

“Yes. Him,” Gray spits. “Apparently he’s forgotten what it’s like to have you if he thinks whores can ever compare.”

I shudder at his words. “But why would Gunner—”

“She reminded me of you when I first met her,” Gray admits. He sounds so defeated I wish I could make myself move to his side and hug him. “I told her to call me if she ever needed help, Princess. I fucking told her she could trust me. But that was another lie, wasn’t it?”

Another? Oh fuck. Now I finally understand.

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