King's Reign (Sydney Storm MC #6)(20)

I followed. “Mum! Stop. We need to discuss this.”

Finally, she spun around to look at me. The agony lining her face killed me, quieting me long enough for her to get a word in. “Lily, shhh. You will wake the children.”

That was what she was worried about? I knew I should have thought about that, but the only thought in my mind was that I was nowhere near ready to give up on Brynn.

“Brynn isn’t going to die, Mum. You can’t call the priest. The doctor said they are weaning her off the ventilator. That has to be a good thing.”

Her beautiful face crumpled into the kind of sadness that tore at my heart. I hated watching her struggle for the past few days. No mother should have to go through this. “We don’t know what will happen when they do that. Brynn needs this.”

Pain cut straight through me as I allowed her words in.

I didn’t want to think about my sister not being around anymore. Not being my person.

I need a person.

And I don’t want anyone but Brynn.

I had never experienced pain like this. It was an ache that sat sharply and deeply in my body. It felt like a knife had sliced a line from my heart down to my toes. I wanted to cry every second of the day. I wanted my anguish to be ripped from me so I didn’t have to feel it ever again, because surely one jagged tear like that would never hurt as badly as this.

This pain was merciless.

It felt like it could literally kill me.

“Lily,” Mum said, her voice softer, “you must understand I’m doing this to help her heal.”

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. “Yes,” I choked out, “but I can’t get behind it, because to me, it feels like you’re saying you agree she might die. I never want to agree with that.”

The silence consumed us as we each stayed rooted to the spot, unable to talk, and unable to move. At a time when we desperately needed the other, we had nothing to offer. I wondered how long it would take for my sister to wake up. I prayed it would be soon, because I wasn’t sure how we would survive this otherwise.

Mum turned away from me and walked the few feet to her bedroom. I stood alone in the hallway as she closed the door, shutting me out. I wished I had it in me to reach out and provide her some comfort, but I didn’t. Instead, I had to carry on with life. Had to get through the day, so I made my way back outside to where I’d left King. He wasn’t there, though, so I went in search of him.

I found him in the kitchen, rifling through the fridge.

He straightened, his gaze roaming over me before settling on my face. “I made room for them in here and pulled out some shit that looked like it had gone off.”

I eyed the bench where he’d placed two containers. “Thank you.” Such a simple gesture, but it meant something to me. At a time when life was so messed up, it was the little daily tasks that helped me focus. That helped me breathe.

Closing the fridge door, he came to me, eyes searching mine. I willed him to stop, but he didn’t. He did what King always did—he forced his way into my space and then some. By the time he was finished, he had me backed against the kitchen bench, his hand on my hip. “Talk to me,” he bossed. “How’s your sister?”

He had been right this morning—I did still want him. God, how I wanted him. The pull I felt toward King wasn’t something I’d ever experienced before. It scared me because he’d already cut and run once, had already hurt me, and that was after only a few weeks of knowing him. How could I trust he wouldn’t do it again? How could I trust him with my heart?

“Lily,” he ordered, “Talk.”

I looked up into his eyes and shook my head. Placing both hands to his chest, I pushed him away. It surprised me that he allowed that, but he did. “I told you this morning that I wouldn’t do this with you again, and I meant it. I appreciate you bringing food over, but—”

Something I said or did triggered a shift in his mood, and a dangerous glint flashed in his eyes. There was heat there, too, and that caused desire to pool in my belly. Before I had time to process that, he came at me again, this time a ferocious energy blazing from him.

Crushing his body to mine, his hand came to my throat as he growled, “Tell me you don’t want this.” He ran his other hand down my body, over my breast, to the button of my jeans. Mouth against my ear, he said, “Tell me you don’t want my hand in your pants, or my fingers deep inside your cunt.”

I moaned. It fell from my mouth before I could stop it. And God, if my pussy wasn’t throbbing with the need for everything he’d just said. I was wet for him, and he hadn’t even moved past the button on my jeans.

He ground himself against me and popped the button. His hand tightened around my throat as a grunt sounded from deep within him. Cutting some of my air supply off, he rasped, “I’m wound so fucking tight for you I can hardly think straight, and while I didn’t come here to fuck you, just laying eyes on you is enough to snap any restraint I have.” He lowered the zip on my jeans. “Tell me you fucking want me as much as I want you.”

He practically had me panting. Everything he said and did turned me on to the point where I wasn’t sure I could say no to whatever he wanted. All he had to do was slip his hand in my pants and I would cross the line of no return. I had to stop him from doing that.

I gripped his hand that held my zip. “I don’t want you.”