Page 18 of Cold Foot King

At last, when she was cried out and in control of herself once more, she wiped her eyes, looked up at him, and sniffed. “Why were you in prison?”

“The humans called it murder. You?”

“Also murder. Kind of. Wreck’s stupid mate brought everyone back to life, so technically, I performed zero murders.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “It’s probably best for the world that test is negative.”

She laughed thickly, thankful that he could lighten the mood. “We don’t need to be making any more monsters.”

“Who did this?” he asked suddenly, and brushed his thumb down her cheek.

That was enough to break the spell. She gripped his wrist and pulled his hand away, disengaged from the hug, gave him her back, and washed her face in the sink.

That story was off-limits.

King didn’t push. He wasn’t even in the bathroom when she dried her face and looked in the mirror. Instead, he was sitting at the table, eating one of the hamburgers.

“You make that table look tiny,” she said, trying to break the ice.

King gestured to the bed, where he’d set the rest of the food onto the paper-bag plate. “Eat.”

“Don’t boss me around,” she snapped.

He chewed thoughtfully, then shoved the last bite into his mouth, stood, made his way to the bed, and grabbed one of the other hamburgers. “It’s a sin to leave food to get cold.”

“It’s a sin to steal a woman’s food.”

“You aren’t my woman, and this is a good lesson for you. I eat. A lot. If you leave food uneaten, I will eat it.”

She sat on the bed and pulled the bag of food closer to herself. “I’m eating the rest, geez.”

“I need more food for tonight. I should’ve loaded up. There’s a little store across the street at the gas station. You can go if you want, or if you tell me what you like, I can get it.”

“You’re going to spend all your money on food.”

“Woman, I have to eat. If I don’t, the animal is gnarly to deal with. If I run out of money for food, I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

“I have been craving something since I went to prison,” she admitted around a bite of hamburger. It was delicious.

“What’s that?”

“Powdered donuts.”

“They have those. At least, they do if the dipshits from the prison break didn’t buy them all up.”

The clock on the nightstand said it was seven in the evening, but shops probably closed early in small-town Alaska.

“Eight o’clock,” he said around a bite. “I checked the hours.”

“Are you some kind of mind reader?” she asked.

King shrugged and took another bite.

She really looked at him, here in the dim light of the hotel room. He was turned with his back mostly to her, but she could see his profile so clearly while he chewed. He had dark, two-day scruff on his chiseled jaw. His hair had been cut short on the sides, and was just a couple inches long and mussed from his beanie on top. His thermal clung to his muscles. To a human it would look like he spent a lot of time in a gym, but she’d heard about silverbacks. As they matured, they grew and maintained heavy muscle to keep in fighting shape. Silverbacks fought a lot. She remembered the scars on his skin from a few weeks ago.

The fabric of his shirt hid a lot of his history.

“Who did you kill?” she asked curiously.