Page 13 of Merciless King

There were red marks on my pale skin from wrestling on the floor, trying to get away from that man. My right hip and shoulder had bluish bruises already coming up and there was a graze on my elbow.

My fingers trembled as I slid my hand over my ribs on the left side, over the scar there, dark and ugly. One of five marring my body. I didn’t like to touch them. I hated the way they felt, raised and horrible against the rest of my smooth skin. I shuddered.

What happened today could have been worse.

A lot worse.

I quickly turned away, getting the water in the shower going nice and hot, hotter than usual. I couldn’t seem to warm up. When the temperature was right, I climbed in, tipping my head back under the spray. Closing my eyes, I took steadying breaths as what happened in the shop flashed on replay through my mind.

I quickly shut those thoughts down and lathered up, scrubbing every inch of my body, shampooing my hair twice, and washing my face until it tingled.

It was stupid, all in my mind, and scrubbing myself raw wouldn’t change anything or erase what had happened, but it helped. For a short time anyway, it did help.

I climbed out, quickly dried off, and wrapped the towel around my head while I found something to wear. I pulled on a pair of black tights and a soft oversized blue sweater. My damp hair was too heavy to tie back so I gave it another rub with the towel, dragged a brush through it, and left it down.

When I walked out, Detective Daniels was sitting on the couch.

He glanced up at me, his gaze sweeping over my body. “You need anything?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine—”

Someone knocked on the door and I jumped.

The detective stood, a look of resignation on his face I didn’t understand. He went to the door and checked who it was before he opened it.

“King,” Daniels said.

Van walked in, brushing right past him. “Thought I’d find you here,” he said to Daniels, then his gaze found and locked on me, the intensity behind it making me shiver. “Okay?” he asked.

I nodded, mouth suddenly dry, palms sweaty, heart racing like a startled woodland creature. That’s how I felt around Van. Like I was in the presence of a predator. I equally loved and feared the feeling.

And why was he even here? What was going on? Honestly, I thought I’d never see him again.

Van turned back to Detective Daniels. “You can leave now. I’ve got her.”

His tone was abrupt, forceful, and brooked no argument.

Daniels scowled.

And I had the sudden urge to run to my room and close myself in.

Van

No way would I let her be here on her own, and I sure as hell didn’t want her here with Daniels. When I realized he’d taken her, my damn head had nearly exploded. The guy had seized his chance as soon as my damned back was turned.

That wasn’t going to fly.

The way Connor looked at her? Yeah, his interest in her was more than professional.

Like you’re any better?

London looked up at me, eyes wide. “I can’t ask you to do that.” She swallowed, her delicate throat working, lips trembling. “I’m fine now. I’ll be okay here on my own.” She smiled, or tried to, and failed completely.

I ignored her and repeated to a visibly pissed off Connor, “I said I’ve got her.”

The guy’s gaze fixed on mine for a beat then slid to London, noting like I did that this time she didn’t voice any objections. No—in fact, she looked a little relieved.

Connor did not look happy, and asshole that I was, it pleased the hell out of me. Finally, when no one said any more, he nodded, and said to her, “I’ll be in touch.”