Page 85 of Claimed By a King

Rather than answering me, she links her arm with mine and we walk into the bathroom. Mama leaves the door open and immediately walks over to the shower and switches the water on. At first I think I’m seeing things, but the longer I look at her, the more visible the tremble in her hands becomes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask.

She avoids my question and calls out to Gray. “We need some clean clothes and fresh towels.”

“I can—”

“No,” she says through clenched teeth. “I need you to stay here with me, Zoe.”

The longer I look at her, the more I see the toll it takes on her to be here with me. I don’t know what it is about the tiles, and I’m determined not to ask. That’s for her to tell me if she wants to.

“Here you go,” Gray says, joining us in the bathroom. Mama is quick to take the towels and clothes from him, before shooing him back out. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks me, not budging until I nod.

“I’ll be fine,” I whisper.

As soon as he’s gone, I whip the tee over my head before I have time to second-guess myself. My panties are next to go, and once I’m naked, I gather my long hair over one shoulder and hurry under the scalding water.

I moan as the water soaks my hair, and I don’t waste any time reaching for the shampoo. Wanting to get rid of the lime stench still clinging to my nostrils, I use the entire bottle. Once I’m satisfied that all I can smell is coconut, I reach for my loofah and run it all over my body.

“Why are you helping me?” I ask, looking over at Mama who’s sitting on the closed toilet.

She moves one leg over the other and runs her fingers through her dark hair. “Why wouldn’t I?”

I huff. “You once told me you only help those who help themselves. I haven’t done that.”

She tilts her head to the side, not bothering to hide the way her eyes track every inch of my naked body. “Did Gunner do all that?” she asks, gesturing to the skin that he used as a canvas for his twisted and perverse entertainment. “Or did the other Reapers also…”

There’s no need for Mama to complete her sentence since we both know what she’s really asking. Did they take turns or was I exclusively Gunner’s?

“Only Gunner,” I say, my voice monotone. “He claimed me as his Old Lady. Aside from him, only two other guys touched me. There was the guy who pulled me from the car after Rhiannon got us into the car crash, and he met a grizzly fucking death.”

Bile creeps up my throat, and I shudder as I remember having to make the choice of how Johnny met his end. It’s just one of the many thoughts plaguing me, but this one is different. Even though I know I never had a choice, I can’t shake the guilt I feel at being the one to choose his death.

“Then there was my sister’s riding trainer.” I squeeze my eyes shut as all-consuming guilt makes my breath hitch. “I was the one who touched him. I stupidly hugged him, and Gunner shot him right in front of me. Then he… he… fuck. That was the first time he raped me.”

My mind is warring with itself. Unable to decide whether the guilt or the pain of having yet another thing taken from me weighs the heaviest. Lost for words, I slide down the tiles until I’m sitting on the bottom of the shower while the water cascades around me.

I pull my knees up and rest my head on them, facing Mama who never looks away from me. Even though our eyes meet, it’s like we’re both seeing something different. Unimaginable horrors playing in our mind’s eye, threatening to pull us down.

Mama is the first to shake herself out of it, literally shaking her head. “Did you know my dear mom worked with the Reapers?”

“I heard something when I was with them,” I answer.

She nods. “Rocco bought me when I was sixteen and married me that day. He and the Diamond Crew wanted to rescue me, and that was the best way to draw my parents out. I killed my dad that day, and that landed me in jail for three years.”

I make a strangled sound as I listen to her horrific story.

“So trust me when I say that I get trauma, and I know firsthand what it’s like to feel like a fucking hippo is sitting on your chest.”

The comparison has me barking out a laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because that’s exactly what it feels like.

“If it wasn’t for Rocco, I don’t know what would have become of me.” She says it so flippantly, like she’s repeated the words so many times she’s detached from them. “Loving a King isn’t easy, especially nottheKing. They’re stubborn, proud, and damaged bastards. But they’re also loyal to a fault, and love with their entire being.”

Though it’s obviously Rocco she’s talking about, the words fit Gray to a fucking T.

“Gray loves you, Z. You’re hisit,and I want you to understand that what you’ve been through changes nothing. He’ll understand if you can’t ever love him back—”

“But I do love him,” I say, needing to set the record straight. “It fucking broke something inside me when Ithought he was dead.” My voice cracks at the end, and I finally allow myself to feel the emotions I’ve had to bottle up for months.

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