Page 12 of Shattered King

Lulu

I jumped, startled awake. My face was smooshed against the wall, butt cold and numb, head aching. Sitting on a toilet seat lid for however many hours I’d been locked in this bathroom was not the most comfortable of places to nod off. I stared at the door, tilting my head to the side, listening.

Then I heard it, the sound of Hunter’s heavy footfalls. His boots thudded against the hardwood floors as he moved around the cabin. A shiver traveled through me from head to toe. After he’d pinned me against the wall, those fingers wrapped around my throat, I’d thought, this is it, the end. But instead of choking me to death, he’d snarled, shoved away from me, and walked out. A door had slammed somewhere in the cabin and it had been silent—until now.

My mind raced. What was he doing out there? What did he have planned for me? Was he just going to leave me chained to the toilet to starve to death, or did he have something else in store, something far worse?

Josh would be awake now, wondering where I was. Missing me. Sara would have worked out something went wrong and would be sick with worry.

I tugged on the cuff around my wrist, the clank of steel against steel echoing loudly in the small room. Pain radiated up my arm. I’d been forced to hold it in a weird angle all night and now it ached like a bitch.

Jesus. I had to get out of here.

The sound of Hunter’s boots got louder, moving closer. The lock in the door clicked and then it was pushed open.

I sat up straighter, blinking against the light streaming in from behind him, into the dim bathroom. I didn’t say a word. He’d made it clear I wasn’t to speak. I watched him move closer, the nerves constantly going to town in my belly, increasing as he pulled something from his back pocket.

I shrank back unconsciously when he moved toward me. Even as I did it, it felt wrong. I’d never once been afraid of him. Even though I knew he’d come after me one day, I’d never believed he’d hurt me physically, not really. I mean, he’d once loved me beyond reason, had looked at me in a way no one else ever had in my entire life. When he’d made love to me, that big body covering mine, hands in my hair, eyes locked on mine, he’d made me feel treasured, precious.

How could that kind of love, that kind of connection, vanish completely?

The realization that it had was another blow. I’d done what I had to in order to protect him, but even if I told him the truth, he’d never believe it, not now.

He made a strange sound, kind of like a growl, making me jump, then released the cuff attached to the sink. Gripping my biceps, he hauled me off the toilet and dragged me out into the living room. There was a chair in the middle of the room and he shoved me onto it. Pulling my hands behind my back, he cuffed me again.

I waited for him to say something, anything, but he was silent. He just stood there, staring at me for so long that I wanted to squirm under that icy glare. It penetrated me like a laser. Like it had the ability to flay me wide open, reveal all the ugliness beneath. I tried, but I couldn’t hold that stare, not when what I saw there made me feel so raw, so damn exposed. The way he saw me was reflected in those hostile blue eyes, and what he saw was just another vicious emotional hit to add to the rest.

I was the woman who screwed up his life. The woman who betrayed him.

There was nothing else. Not anymore.

He moved suddenly, walking toward me. I braced.

He went down to his knees and, gripping my chin, made me look at him. “Ready for a chat, Lulu?”

I was chained to a chair, the man in front of me making no attempt to hide how much he despised me. But my traitorous heart did a happy little flutter. My body suddenly felt electric, a mix of emotions confusing my senses, making me tremble harder. Nerves, fear, lust, and excitement tore through me at the speed of light. My heart raced so fast I could feel the vein in my neck throbbing hard and heavy.

It’d been dark last night, but now in the light of day, I could see him clearly and I couldn’t help but drink him in. My gaze moved over him hungrily, taking in every detail of his face, his body. The clothes he wore. He was still lean but bigger than I remembered. His black T-shirt strained around his biceps in a way that made my mouth dry. The worn denim of his jeans hugged his long legs to perfection, cupping his dick in a way that made me hot and achy between my thighs. I noted absently that he hadn’t gotten another lip piercing, and his hair wasn’t cropped like he used to wear it. It was the perfect length to run your fingers though and hang on. It suited him. Made him look rougher somehow.

We’d always had an intense physical connection. From the first moment I saw him, when he started working for Pierce, I’d wanted him. Pierce was mean and cruel and sick, but he was also a coward, picking on those smaller and weaker than himself. Which was why he never went anywhere without one of his men. Hunter had occasionally filled that position, but mostly he’d been used for debt collection. Leaning on those poor bastards stupid enough to forfeit their repayments to Pierce.

Despite all that, as soon as I met Hunter, I knew there was no other man for me.

He’d looked at me across the room that day and something had happened. We both felt it. He approached me that afternoon, and I was helpless against his pull. I never, not once in the two years we’d been together, said no to him. For any reason. Whenever he wanted me, I was ready for him, just like I was now. That low ache began to throb, and I sucked in an uneasy breath at just how much I wanted him.

God, there had to be something mentally wrong with me.

Back then, we’d somehow managed to keep our relationship a secret. I’d told Hunter my stepfather wouldn’t be happy that I was dating one of his employees. God, when Pierce found out about us . . .

I shoved away the memory and gave him a jerky nod, telling him to get on with it.

He gave me a once over, something I couldn’t name moving through his eyes. “Where’s Pierce hiding?”

The question surprised me. I don’t know what I was expecting. No, that was a lie. I’d expected him to ask me why I’d done what I had, why I’d let him go to prison. It was screwed up, but his not wanting that from me, not needing those answers—it hurt. Deep. I thought he’d brought me here to finally learn the truth, and I realized in that moment how badly I’d wanted him to force it out of me, to make me tell him everything, to relieve me of this crushing guilt.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

He stood, putting distance between us again and leaned against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. He shoved his hands in his pockets. All casual-like. “No?”