A Treacherous King- Dark Mafia Romance

sixteen

Caine

I couldn't sleep. I had too many thoughts, too many emotions threatening to swallow me whole.

Tonight had been a close call. I could have lost Simon and it would have been my own fucking fault. The image of the American pumping his chest trying to get his heart to pump blood again kept playing over and over in my mind.

She had saved his life.

She could have refused to save him. She could have pretended she didn't notice that he wasn't breathing. But she didn't. She had sounded and felt as panicked as I felt. She cared, I realized. She cared about Simon, she cared even more for Nadia. She had made friends out of them. She trusted them. That's not how this was supposed to go.

I had thought I heard someone prowling around in the kitchen. At first I thought it was Nadia, no doubt starving after all the screaming she did at me, but as I rounded the corner I noticed that the kitchen was coated in darkness. Nadia would have every light on in the house. Then I saw her.

She was bent over at the waist. The light of the refrigerator casted light upon her short night gown, her lace underwear showing through the thin, silky material. I silently cursed myself for having the urge to slip my callused hand up her smooth thigh. To press her against me and feel her plump ass grind into my cock as I palmed her tits.

I had startled her thinking she would drop everything and run back upstairs, but instead she turned away from me. I grimaced at the full sight of her in her lingerie. The material shifted over her ass as she walked over to the counter and took a seat. I had walked over to the counter and leaned across it, silently reaching down to adjust my semi hard on.

I had asked her a question and she was staring at me now, her full lips partly open. She has a slight crease between her brows as if my question brought her great sorrow. Moments later she comes out of her trance and continues to eat her banana.

"My grandma." She answers, her chewing slowing. I'm trying to picture the young American learning gun safety, but she must think I am taunting her. Her eyebrows furrow like they do whenever she gets frustrated.

"It's true." She says, defensively.

"Was there a reason she taught you?" A shadow befalls her features. She squeezes the banana, mushing it up in her hand.

"To protect me from men like you." She bites.

I deserved that. I deserve all her stabs fueled by her anger. I take full responsibility for being the monster that haunts her nightmares. Nevertheless, her comment sends a tiny spark of hurt at my heart.

"Sounds like a great woman." I say, meaning it.

"She..." She trails off. She puts the banana down and releases a sigh. I wait for her response but she doesn't finish her thought. Instead she pours some milk in a glass and takes a big gulp.

"I shouldn't be talking to you." She says, indignantly.

"Why?" My voice comes out low and stoic.

"Do I even have to explain?" She rolls her dark eyes.

"You're angry that I brought you along tonight." I state it as a fact rather than a question. She just huffs out a breath and tears into her yogurt.

"I wasn't thinking when I asked you to come along." I admit to her. I am not apologizing by any means, it was true that the thought of Simon in peril unhinged me and I hadn't been thinking clearly.

"Asked me? I don't recall you asking me to do anything." She retorts.

"Okay. When I ordered you to come along." She purses her lips.