He isn’t happy about my request, but he follows through, aware of what the repercussions would be if he didn’t. Yeah, I was dependent as fuck onanydrugs my first year here, but this isn’t about me. It’s all about K.
I feel the heat of Dok’s heavy gaze on me when my two front teeth crunch through the first white pill. I swallow down my half without any water before holding K’s half out in front of me. A smirk tugs at my mouth when she allows me to place the tablet between her lips without a single snip of hesitation crossing her features. It’s the simplest gesture, however, my cock acts as if I’m notching its head into her plump and inviting mouth.
We do the same thing another three times until the four pills Dok handed me have been consumed, and K’s hand shoots up to remove something from my beard. My head slants to the side when she removes a chunk of Bailey’s skin matted through the wiry mess minus the grimace you’d expect. You can’t feel ill when you’re nurturing someone the same way they’re nurturing you. It isn’t possible. That’s why I killed Bailey and Rory without an ounce of remorse being felt. I knew it would do K more good than harm to know I’d do anything to protect her.
“You good?”
This time I wait for K to bob her chin before helping her down from the examination bed. After curling my hand around her uninjured one, I guide her to the door. “Have her medication in my room by the time we return.”
Dok grumbles something, but I miss what he says. I can’t hear anything through the pounding of the pulse in my ears.
“Jump in,” I say to K after guiding her to my car Eight is in the process of dumping Rory’s slumped form in. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
“She good?” Eight asks when I join him at the trunk.
I fold Rory’s leg in half like Eight did one of Alexei’s goons only days ago to ensure he fits in my trunk before jerking up my chin. “She’s more than good,” I reply before I can stop myself.
I said to Nikolai earlier my obsession with K is because she reminds me of India, but that isn’t true. India’s inclusion in my life royally fucked me over. Because of her, my father and brother are buried beneath the same six feet of dirt, and I became a monster. If anything, K’s similarities to India should give me the hives. However, there’s only one part of my body that swells when she’s around. It can be as red and angry as welts and cause just as much discomfort, but it’s usually a rash women beg for time and time again.
Feeling my unease, Eight asks, “Are you sure you don’t want me to come to Jim’s with you? I kinda miss the old bastard, so I don’t mind dodging his bullets if he’s still pissed at me. I’ll even squeeze into the back seat, so you can keep your girl up front with you.”
Although annoyed he’s double-guessing my order, I also understand his hesitation. I haven’t been this unhinged since Nikolai’s crew found me on the cusp of death. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather you stay here. Justine will keep Nikolai subdued for a couple of hours, but we won’t know how he’ll react once he’s out of her spell.” I slam down the trunk before moving for the driver’s side door. “Besides, if Jim kills you, I’ll be left standing next to a pigpen longer than required. It’s not often they’re served two bodies in a day.” Eight laughs off my worry with a playful tug of his collar. He needs to work on the panic in his eyes if he wants me to believe he isn’t worried, though. “Keep an eye on P’s until I return. News of Vladimir’s death is only just circulating, so we can’t be too cautious. If our enemies think we’re busted up, they’ll want to pick at the scabs.”
“Aight, I’ll head there now.” When I crank open the driver’s side door of my car, he straddles a quad just to the left of me. “Heads up.” I look up in just enough time to catch the bag he tosses at my head before it smacks me in the face. “Nero said your girl didn’t eat breakfast. Figured you’d have a better chance than us.”
After jerking up my chin in thanks, I slide into the driver’s seat. “If you get any rumblings, call Nero. I can’t find my cell phone.”
Eight returns my head jerk before he kicks over the quad’s motor. Its healthy vibrations only just conceal his snickered, “Again.” I have a habit of misplacing my electronic devices.
Although K’s attention appears to be on Eight, I can feel her eyes on me. They’re as heated now as they were when we dined on the delicious range of goodies Dok keeps well hidden, and it has nothing to do with the bag of fragrant-smelling food Eight just handed me. She’s still liking that I stood up for her almost as much as I’m loving her lack of disgust I killed two men in front of her.
Killing is only sinful when it’s done to an innocent.
I almost let Nikolai’s verdict stand, but the scratches on K’s arm altered my verdict. I couldn’t see them when she slipped her hand into mine, but I most certainly could feel them. The droplets of blood sliding down her arm obliterated any chance of Rory walking out of his room alive. I wanted him dead no matter the consequence.
Mercifully, I don’t see Nikolai disagreeing with my judgment once he emerges from his Justine high. Rory disobeyed his direct order. The verdict for that is only ever death.
I wait for Eight’s quad to leave a dust trail before directing my focus to K. “Put your seat belt on, K. Don’t want you getting hurt.”
If I didn’t already know her eyes were on me, I’m left with no doubt when they float away to locate the buckle of her belt. Her gaze was so heated, my face cooled when she moved her eyes away.
Once the familiar click of a belt latching into place sounds through my ears, I fire up my engine, shift my gearstick into first, then commence our five-mile trip.
We’re a quarter of a mile away from Clarks when I dig my hand into the bag Eight tossed at me. There’s an array of food inside—bacon and egg muffins that are still warm, freshly baked cookies, fruit, and enough bread to feed an army.
Although I’m dying for K’s stomach to quit fucking growling, I’m not so hyped up on the adrenaline every kill awards me with to know feeding her stomach its every desire right now could end disastrously. Jim is a cool guy, but even I have issues showering at his ranch. The dude is almost blind, so he has the perfect excuse for a lack of cleanliness, however, what’s his whore’s excuse?
Nikolai gave him the pick of the crop when he offered up the use of his industrial fridges two years ago when we had bodies to hide and no place to hide them. He picked well when he chose Arabella, she has a nice rack and plenty of ass, but it’s clear her hoover lips were the only thing Jim considered while testing out the merchandise on offer. She can’t cook or clean for shit.
With that in mind, I pull a bread roll out of the bag, take a large bite out of it, then hand it to K. She waits for the dry clump of carbs to slide down my throat before accepting her share. For someone eating her first meal in almost twelve hours, she doesn’t scarf down the bread roll like I’m anticipating. She nibbles at it like a mouse. Even her nose screws up during her chews.
Once she’s finished her share of our bread roll, I ripped through another one with my teeth to ensure her it’s safe to eat before handing it over.
When her little nibbles get the better of me, I mutter, “You better tell me your real name soon, K, or I’ll start calling you Mouse since you eat like one.” An unexpected smile tugs at my lips when her nose screws up even more. She’s not a fan of the nickname I chose for her. “You don’t want to be called Mouse?” When she peers up at me with her big eyes out in full force, the thud in my chest shifts to my ears. “I guess I wouldn’t be a fan of being called a rodent either. Do you have another nickname in mind? I’ll call you anything you want to be called.”
I wait and wait and wait for her to answer me.
When a peep fails to leave her lips, I say, “Come on, K. I heard you talk. You can do it. You’ve just got to be brave enough to take the plunge.”
