King’s Wrath Page 3

  When we were alone, I loosened my grip and said, “Can you calm down for one fucking minute and listen to me?”

  “I do listen to you. It’s you who doesn’t listen to me.” She said this with total conviction, the anger in her eyes shifting to something else. Sadness maybe.

  I took a step back, hit hard by what I saw there. The last thing I ever wanted was Ivy sad. It was clear though that she wasn’t happy and hadn’t been so for at least the last six months. Fuck, maybe more. I would have sworn against what she’d just said, but she honestly believed I didn’t listen to her.

  Scrubbing a hand over my face, I contemplated how to react. Holding her gaze, I finally blew out a long frustrated breath and asked, “Do you really believe I would screw around on you?”

  She blinked, seemingly unsure, and wrapped her arms around her body. My question managed to cut through the argument and give us the space to stop and think, to try and get our heads together and see things clearer. Fuck knew our tempers were our greatest flaws and did neither of us any favours.

  “I don’t want to,” she said, her voice quieter, the hostile edge gone. In its place was the vulnerability that shot straight to my heart every time. This was the Ivy I loved.

  I reached out and pulled her close, my hand cupping the back of her head. “Fuck, Ivy, what are we doing?”

  She buried her face against my chest, not answering me. When her body shuddered with a sob, I wrapped my other arm around her waist and held her to me. Ivy didn’t like crying. She said it made her feel weak. So I knew shit was bad if she was crying.

  I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, her long dark hair whispering across my face. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore. It’s fucking killing us. How can I make you understand that you’re the only woman I want in my life and in my bed? Tell me, and I’ll do it. I’ll do any-fucking-thing to make you happy.”

  She scrunched my shirt in her hands, thumbs digging into my chest as she sobbed. I hated it when she cried, too. It reminded me of all the times she wept when she first came to live with her foster mother. She cried back then because of the horrific things her parents had allowed to be done to her, and no fucking way did I want to be the cause of more tears.

  I pulled away and took hold of her chin. Angling her face up to mine, I said, “Don’t cry. I’ll fix this. You’ve just gotta tell me how to do that.”

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks and took a breath. “I know you love me, but when I see those women near you, it does something to me. I know my jealousy is extreme, but I can’t control it, King. I try, but I can’t. And then you fire up at me, and that just makes it worse.” She stopped for a moment, looking at me with uncertainty, as if she was unsure how to go on, but then she said, “You yell at me, and I feel like you don’t hear what I am trying to say to you. You’re so set on trying to make me bend however you need me to that you don’t listen to what I need. I’m tired of being the one who always does the bending.”

  I knew our arguments were about so much more than whatever we were fighting over. This was the first time Ivy had given me any hint as to what that was.

  “Are we talking about that night shift job?” I asked.

  She sighed. “Yes. And other things.”

  “What other things?” Jesus, just fucking tell me.

  Her forehead creased in a frown. “Don’t get shitty with me again. I’m just trying to be honest here.”

  “And I don’t want to have to pry this shit from you kicking and fucking screaming,” I muttered, working like fuck to keep a leash on my impatience.

  “You are such a fucking ass.” She glared at me. “It’s almost everything you do, King. You’re demanding and always want things your way. You wanna be the one to drive when we go out, and drop me off and pick me up when I’m out with friends, and choose what mobile phone I get, and tell me when you don’t want me to wear a certain skirt or dress when we go out… things like that. And on top of that, you usually assume you’re right and don’t always listen to what I have to say. It’s too much. You need to let me be me. And you need to let me show you that sometimes I do know things.”

  Fuck.

  The way she saw things was a whole lot fucking different to the way I saw it. “The reason I do all that shit is to keep you safe and protected—”

  Wild energy rushed between us as her mood swung back to hostile. “So choosing my phone is to keep me safe? That’s bullshit, and you know it. And again, you’re not listening to me!”

  Fucking hell, I had whiplash. Turning, I took a few steps away from her. I had to; otherwise, I’d lash out. Not physically, but verbally, and that would only move us further away from each other.

  I paced back and forth a few times before coming back to her. My eyes met hers again, full of determination. I had to make her understand me. “All I’ve ever wanted was to keep you safe. Hand on my fucking heart, I do all that shit with that goal in mind. I know I’m bossy and demanding and a pain in your ass, and I wish I could tell you I’ll change and things will be different and all that shit that men tell their women whenever they fight, but I can’t. I’m not going to change because my goal isn’t going to change.”

  She remained silent while she processed that, but Ivy had the kind of face that displayed all her emotions, and they all ran across it while she did her thinking. So much so that I knew I’d failed to make her see where I was coming from. “So that’s it then? Things stay the same, you get everything you want, and I just have to make you happy?” She crossed her arms again in that same furious manner as before and waited for my response.

  Give and take wasn’t one of my strengths, but I knew I had to meet her somewhere in the middle. Fuck knew how, though, because I’d meant every word about not budging from trying to keep her safe. “I’m shit out of ideas for how to manoeuvre through this, but we’re equals here, so no, you don’t just have to make me happy. You have to be happy too. All I ask is that you’re also safe.” And you let me do what I need to do to make that happen.

  She stared at me like I had two heads. “Fuck me, is that you compromising, baby?” Her lips twitched with the hint of a smile. It was her use of “baby” that really caught my attention. I couldn’t recall the last time she’d used it; she’d been pissed off at me for that fucking long.

  The way we watched each other changed. Softened. Anger faded as hope flared. “Don’t get fucking used to it.”

  Edging closer to me, she said, “Those things I mentioned that you do, they don’t always bother me.” She took hold of the hem of my shirt with one of her hands. The other one stayed by her side. “I just want you to give me the choice, you know? Don’t always barrel in all protective and shit. It makes me feel powerless.”

  Her last statement was the puzzle piece I needed. Everything she’d been trying to tell me finally fell into place in my fucked-up brain. Why hadn’t I seen it before? Of course Ivy would lash out if she felt powerless. After having her power stripped from her as a child, it was the one thing she held onto tightly.

  Fuck.

  I knew I didn’t have it in me to change completely, but I could try to rein my shit in for her.

  My arms circled her so I could hold her close. “I love you,” I murmured, before my mouth found hers in the kind of kiss we hadn’t shared for months.

  Deep and slow at first, the kiss turned desperate and frantic as I backed her up against the clubhouse shed. Soon we were tearing at each other’s clothes, the need to fuck overwhelming.

  It had been months since we’d been like this. Sex had become a purely physical release for us—we got off as fast as we could and we moved on—but this, this was raw and carnal.

  Ivy’s clothes and my shirt landed on the ground. She undid my zip and pulled out my cock, eyes to mine. Pumping me, she bit my bottom lip and kissed me before saying, “I can’t drag this out, King. I need you now.”

  Within a moment, I had her in my arms and up against the wall, her legs tightly around me. Thrusting
my cock deep inside her, I growled, “Fuck!” before losing myself in the act completely.

  I slammed into her furiously, needing my fill.

  Her fingers dug into my back as she held on, blissful moans matching my groans. Ivy loved it when I fucked her like this.

  My eyes closed as the pleasure built.

  Up my spine and out to every nerve ending.

  I needed more.

  Craved the dark shit.

  The shit I never touched.

  Refused to touch.

  Grunting, I grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her head back before sinking my teeth into her neck. I barely heard her whimpers. Between the brutal way I fucked her, the savage marking of her skin, and the roar of need raging through my head, I was oblivious to everything but my filthy desires.

  I was a fucking time bomb waiting to detonate with the hunger that breathed deep inside me. I never gave it air. Didn’t want to inflict it on the woman I loved, but something had triggered inside me today, and I was helpless to stop the course I was on.

  I was unravelling.

  Coming undone.

  Unable to stop myself from taking what I wanted.

  It wasn’t until Ivy bucked violently against me that I was dragged from the dark haze I’d allowed to take over.

  My eyes snapped open.

  Hers stared back at me with fear.

  And panic.

  My fucking hands were around her neck.

  Choking her.

  She clawed at me trying to loosen my grip, but my strength was too much for her. She could hardly fucking breathe.

  My body had her pinned against the shed while I fucked and choked her. And I hadn’t fucking realised it was happening.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, letting her go and stumbling backwards once she was standing on her own, out of my hold. No other words came out. I struggled to fight the mess of thoughts in my mind.

  How the fuck did that happen?

  This was the shit I kept a tight fucking lock on. It was the shit my father did, not the shit I did.

  I dragged my fingers through my hair, clawing at my scalp.

  Fuck.

  No.

  Ivy collapsed to the ground, huddling into a crouch. When she had her breathing back under control, she looked up at me with confusion, completely stricken. “King,” she started, her voice cracking. “What’s going on?”

  I stared at her, battling my way through the mental fog blanketing me. “That shit will never happen again.” I never made promises unless I intended to keep them, and this was one promise I would never break. Jesus, I was the one who kept her safe. I would never be the one who hurt her.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as we watched each other, a deathly silence hanging between us. I wished she would stop looking at me with those eyes full of terror.

  We stayed like that for what felt like forever. When she finally stood, she quietly dressed before wrapping her arms around her body and asking, “Have you done that before? With someone else? I mean, is that something you want in sex?”

  I’d slept with a handful of girls before Ivy, but had never done that with any of them. I shook my head. “Never.”

  She moved closer to me, looking up into my eyes with a questioning look. “Did you like it?”

  “Fuck, Ivy,” I said, unsure of what to say. I did fucking like it; I was getting off on it like I’d never gotten off. But that didn’t mean I wanted to do it again. What the fuck would happen if I went too far? I didn’t want to think about that. The average male could play with it in their sex life, but I wasn’t the average man. I was fucked-up and craved shit no one should ever crave. I’d likely go to the extremes like I did with everything else in my life. I couldn’t chance that with her.

  “Tell me,” she demanded. “I need to know if I should be prepared for this.”

  My eyes searched hers, looking for what, I wasn’t sure. An interest in being choked? Fuck that, I needed to shut this shit down now.

  “It doesn’t matter if I liked it, we won’t be fucking doing it again,” I snapped. I couldn’t stop the hard tone from colouring my words, and I didn’t blame her for flinching, but fuck, it felt like we’d taken three steps forward tonight and then two back. Just when we’d sorted out one problem, I’d fucked up and caused a new one.

  She turned silent again. I wondered what thoughts ran through her mind, but before I had a chance to find out, her lips flattened, and she muttered, “I’m going home.”

  I exhaled sharply as I watched her walk to her car. What a clusterfuck.

  Needing a drink, I headed back into the clubhouse. I wouldn’t be going home tonight. Ivy and I needed some space, and I needed to know she was safe from me.

  5

  King

  * * *

  I quietly watched Ivy from where I sat at my foster mother’s dining table. Margreet had her best china laid out for today’s lunch. Sunday lunch was a tradition in our family for as long as I had lived with her. I’d only missed five lunches in that time, but Ivy had made it to every single one. She and Margreet had a special bond. One I loved to watch, which I did now as I drank a beer.

  They sat together on the couch, talking excitedly about something they were doing together next week. It was the first time in a week I’d seen Ivy light up. Since I’d wrapped my hands around her throat and lost my footing with her. We’d hardly connected during the last seven days. She’d pulled away, I’d been busy with club stuff, and I hadn’t trusted that we could get through a discussion about it without ending up in another argument. So, I’d kept my distance.

  Skylar wandered into the room and plopped herself on the chair opposite me. Sliding a piece of paper across the table, she asked, “Can you please help me with this?”

  I took the paper from her. Dropping my gaze to read it, I said, “Mum or Nik can’t help?” It was an assignment about her family.

  “Mum said I had to ask you about some of it. The stuff about you.”

  I met her gaze again and nodded. “Yeah, okay. When’s it due?”

  “In two weeks.”

  I’d given my full attention to Skylar so had failed to notice Ivy walking my way. It wasn’t until she ran her hand across my back and said, “We can stay after lunch and do it,” that I noticed.

  Our eyes met. The warmth I found in hers took me by surprise, and I returned it. Fuck, we needed this today.

  Looking back at Skylar, I said, “You wanna do this today?”

  “Hell no, but Mum said I couldn’t leave it until the last minute this time.”

  “Skylar,” Mum said in a warning tone as she joined us, “don’t use that language please.”

  My sister pulled a face. “King swears all the time. It’s not fair that I get into trouble for it when he doesn’t.”

  My lips twitched as I tried not to chuckle. The hell I’d caused Margreet as a teen had equipped her with the necessary mental and emotional tools to deal with any misbehaviour from her other foster kids. She’d been tough as nails from the day I met her, but after raising me, she’d learnt how to be smart about it, too.

  “He doesn’t swear in my house,” Mum said as she tied her apron, preparing to finish cooking the roast lamb and vegetables for lunch. Her gaze landed on me. “And he knows the rules and what will happen if he does.” She looked back at Skylar. “Same as you do, young lady. Your decision to use that word just now has earnt you a half-hour deduction of your television time today.”

  Skylar groaned as she slouched in her seat. “That’s not fair! That wasn’t even a real swear word!”

  “Don’t argue with me, child,” Mum said as she bustled into the kitchen. “You know full well that word is not permitted in our house. If you keep arguing, you’ll lose another half hour.”

  As Skylar’s mouth opened to argue back, I reached across the table and placed my hand over it. “Enough.”

  She shot daggers at me, but she shut her mouth and did as she’d been told. Snatching her assignment sheet off the
table, she shoved her chair back and grumbled, “I don’t need your help anymore,” before stomping off towards her bedroom.

  I leaned back against my seat, my eyes meeting Ivy’s. She’d taken the seat next to me. “And you want kids?” I wasn’t convinced we could handle them. Hell, we could barely handle our own relationship. Adding children to that mix could end us.

  A slow smile graced her face, and she leaned into me, hands curving around my neck. “I don’t just want kids, I want your kids. You’re going to make the best father.”

  If we weren’t sitting in my mother’s home, I’d have pulled her onto my lap and kissed the fuck out of her. Instead, I brushed my lips across hers and said as quietly as I could, “We’re never doing a week like this again, Ivy. This radio silence almost killed me.”

  She swallowed hard and nodded as her fingers splayed across the nape of my neck and threaded through my hair there. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

  I placed my hands on her legs before slowly running them up her thighs. It was a good thing she had jeans on, or I’d have seriously struggled keeping myself out of trouble. “I’m taking you home after lunch, and we’re talking this out. And we’re not doing anything besides talking until it’s sorted.”

  Her brows arched. “Umm, it’s not just me who has trouble keeping their hands to themselves.”

  Mum cut into our conversation when she called out from the kitchen, “Zachary, I need your help in here, please.”

  I kept my gaze trained on my woman as I called back, “I’ll be there in a minute.” Then to Ivy, I said with fierce conviction, “I love you.”

  With that, I stood and headed into the kitchen. The tension I’d carried with me for the last week hadn’t eased completely, but it had lifted somewhat. I didn’t feel like I was drowning in the ocean while ten fucking sharks circled me, which was how I’d felt while Ivy refused to come near me. I’d do everything in my power to ensure we never went through that again.