In Peace Lies Havoc (Midnight Mayhem #1)(87)

“Shit.”

The door opens, and King walks through, pausing when he sees I’m awake.

“What happened?” I ask, running my hand through my hair. It feels like straw and I smell. Badly.

“You don’t remember?” he says, attentively stepping inside the room.

“Not really.” I reach for the glass of OJ and take a sip slowly, rejoicing in the cool pulp juice. “God, I smell.”

King shakes his head, and when our eyes connect, we do that thing we always do. When our eyes say the words that our mouths cannot, I see the strain on his face. His pupils dilate, and his jaw sets to stone.

“You can go for a shower, P,” he whispers, stepping forward. “But I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

I squeeze the sheets. “That bad, huh?”

King chuckles. “Yeah, baby. That bad. Come on.” He reaches for me, my hand connecting to his. It’s a small gesture with so much meaning. That’s the thing with King and me. We write our story in invisible ink, so no one else can read it. He tries to carry me to the small steps near his bathroom, but I push him away.

“Stubborn,” he murmurs, and for a brief second, I see the old Kingston I knew all those years ago. Once we’re in the bathroom, he turns the faucet on and waits for it to heat up, closing the glass door. “I wiped your face down when you were asleep. I mean,” he kicks down the toilet cover and takes a seat, “Delila wanted to give you a full-on bath, but I almost killed her, so she didn’t try again.”

“King,” I whisper-scold, my heart clenching in my chest. He looks so…tormented.

He shakes his head and gestures to the shower.

I smile, taking a small step inside and undressing while I’m in here. It’s stupid because King has seen me naked before, but I’m not feeling very anything right now, and I need to sit in here alone. I close the glass door, knowing he hasn’t moved from his spot.

“Music,” I murmur, knowing he would hear me.

The door opens, and then closes, before opening and closing again. The sound of the sound dock picking up his phone dings through the air as I reach for the soap. Seconds pass before “Evil Angel” by Breaking Benjamin starts playing. My eyes close and I inhale, exhale through the waves of music surrounding me. Music has always and will always be the main part of me and how I express myself and vent my energy. I think that’s the same with everyone in Midnight Mayhem. I work on the shampoo and conditioner, rubbing it through my hair. Squeezing soap onto my palm, I scrub my face and then wince when I feel how bruised my cheek is. After I rinse off, I slowly slip to the ground, pulling my knees up to my chest. The door cracks open and King looks down at me. I draw my knees in closer. His eyes don’t drop. He doesn’t eat me alive with lust. He’s tortured and guarded and…broken.

Breaking Benjamin continues to fill the silence between us as he kneels down and reaches for my chin. The water cascades over my face, hiding the tears that are free-falling. “I guess that wasn’t going to be the last time you kneeled for me.” I try to joke about the words he used when I first formally met him on the boat, but hiccup and choke on my words when tears tremble out of me. “I remember everything.” I swipe across my cheeks even though I don’t need to.

King pauses, his eyes darkening. “I promise you, P. No one will ever come near you again. He wasn’t even supposed to be on that fucking yacht. We’ve got some digging to do, but from where we’re standing right now, we think he’s been sleeping with the enemy and he killed a guard to get on the yacht.” There’s so much promise in his words. Can I trust him again? What happened now seems like an ant in an army of soldiers. Jack killing the guard obviously explains why his knife had blood on it.

My shoulders jerk as memories flash through me of Jack drugging me and then trying to rape me again.

King steps into the shower, military boots and all, his arm wrapping around my waist and taking a seat on the floor. He pulls me between his thighs and I rest against his chest, crying.

Yes. Yes, I can trust this man.

“Give me your pain, Dove,” he whispers into my hair. “Give me all of it.”

“Why.” I shake, pressing against him harder.

“To numb mine.”

I suck in a breath, pushing off his chest and looking into his eyes. Water pours over his hoodie, and I reach up, pushing it off his head to expose his hair. I run my fingers through it, my finger coming down the side of his cheek. “You’ve grown so much.”

He pushes my finger away. “Ditto.” He stands, pulling me up with him. When we’re both standing again and I’m leaning against the wall, I run my index finger across his lip and he freezes. Have I overstepped? I don’t care. Right now, I want to kiss him. Even if we don’t go further than this, I want to kiss him.

I lean forward and he remains completely still, unmoving. When my lips touch his, his arm tightens around my waist. My hand comes to his face and my mouth opens as his mimics mine. His tongue sneaks out across my lower lip before he’s picking me up with one arm, my legs wrapping around his torso. The song has switched to “Crawl” now, and I’m thankful for the angry tone from Breaking Benjamin drowning out my thoughts.

He shoves me against the wall, his head pulling back and his eyes searching mine. He has one hand pressed against the wall while the other is wrapped around my waist.