Empire of Desire(Empire #1)(92)

He must sense the determination in my tone and see it on my face, since he throws one last glare my way and pulls Gwyneth inside.

I wait for a few minutes beside the pool, wiping the water out of my face and grimacing when I touch a cut. The crazy motherfucker went for my looks, even though we have a rule against that. Not that I blame him, but still.

After some time has passed, I go through the back entrance of the kitchen and grab a towel and some dry clothes from the laundry room. It’s King’s clothes. Gwyneth has been on a high ever since he woke up and washed some of his clothes, so they’re fresh.

He’ll kill me for this, too, but he shouldn’t have ruined my Italian suit.

I quickly dry myself, then pull on a pair of King’s khaki shorts. I put my arms through the shirt sleeves and wince when my ribs ache. I stare at my chest and find a violet spot forming. Fucking King and his fists.

Sometimes, it feels as if he’s still the delinquent from school who dealt with everything by using violence.

I’m about to button up the shirt when I hear a slow tapping of shuffling feet. Sneakers.

Sure enough, Gwyneth slips in as if she knew I was here all along. She’s changed into one of her long shirts and her hair is still wild and wet, barely dried with a towel. A shadow covers her tiny features and it’s accentuated by the warring of the gray and blue in her eyes.

She runs toward me and stops a breath away. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live.”

Her fingers touch the cut on my brow and I wince. Tears glisten in her eyes and she starts to remove her hand, but I grab it, flattening her palm against my cheek. “I’m fine. I expected this.”

“I hate this. I hate Dad like this. He almost drowned you out there… You almost died, Nate.”

“I would’ve done the same if I were in his place, except the killing part, because that will land him in prison.”

“Nate!” She pushes at my chest, straight on the bruise, and I groan.

“What’s wrong?” She starts to inspect my chest and gasps at the view. “Oh, God.”

“It’s nothing.” I button my shirt and she helps me, her fingers trembling when they reach the top. “Hey, this is nothing. We had worse fights than this when we were young.”

“Maybe you should leave, Nate. For now, just go and I’ll talk to him—”

“No, you won’t. I will.”

“But—”

“I’ve known him longer than you have and I can deal with him.”

“What if he hurts you again?”

“He won’t. I can protect myself.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Now, where is he?”

“In his office, I think.” She digs her nails into my shirt, not wanting to let me go.

So I lower my head and claim her mouth. I suck on her bottom lip until she opens with a moan. My hand fists in her wet hair and I feast on her taste, a mixture of vanilla and whatever she’s feeling at the moment. Right now, it’s despair. And I take that for myself so she doesn’t have those negative emotions anymore.

I never liked kissing. Never engaged in it either, but I want to keep kissing her until I’m out of air and she’s the only oxygen I breathe.

I want to keep feeling her body clinging to mine, her softness molding against my hardness and her moans filling the air.

Those moans and sounds are for me.

Only me.

I almost died because I kissed her not so long ago, but I will still repeat it. I will still risk death for her.

But I don’t want her to risk anything in case King sees us again.

So I begrudgingly pull back, relinquishing her sweet lips.

She’s panting, her eyes darkening with a bright green color, but she doesn’t look to be on the verge of a breakdown like earlier.

“Be careful,” she whispers and lets me go when I coax her to step aside.

“I’ll be fine,” I tell her and stride out of the kitchen without a look back. Because if I do, I’ll be tempted not to leave her side.

If I do, I will take her away from here and give King the middle finger.

But that’s just not the smart thing to do in a situation like this.

I take the stairs slowly because my ribs ache with each step I take. The crazy fucker probably bruised some of them.

I barge into said asshole’s office without knocking. Because fuck him and his crazy ass.

When we were teens and I decided to fight him, everyone told me not to challenge the “King.” That it was stupid and reckless and I’d get my ass whipped.

But I did. The best way to become a king is to slaughter one.

And I was out to do just that.

Yes, he used me as a punching bag the first few times, but I didn’t give up until the king himself fell at my feet.

Until I became his worst friend and best enemy.

And right now, it feels like we’re back to those times where he’s the king and I’m out for his throne.

He’s sitting in the chair at his window that overlooks the front pool. This is probably where he was when I was kissing Gwyneth earlier and decided to use his fists.

But now, he doesn’t look like he wants to touch me, because he has a gun in his hand.

“That’s smarter,” I say, locking the door behind me so Gwyneth doesn’t have the chance to come in. “Better than your clear jealousy of my looks that you tried to ruin.”