Page 25 of Cold Foot King

Her hands were shaking, but she didn’t understand why. Perhaps it was the memory of the night he’d cut her. It had been her greatest shame at the time. It had been such a big deal to the Pride.

She set the phone down, wrung her hands between her knees, and watched the banjo player.

Not your King anymore. Not your mate anymore. Do you want me to kill him?

What? No!Send.I told you, I don’t need anyone to save me. I didn’t fight him. It was my fault.

Mmm. Explain how a man cutting a scar to the bone is justified in any way. Nothing you say can convince me that him mutilating you was your fault.

It’s a long story.Send.

I’ve got nothing to do. I’m watching the news. Watching the Damon interviews. The humans are gunning for a full search into the prison.A picture came through, and it was of King laying on the hotel bed with his arm resting behind his head, shirtless. His eyes were such a blazing-bright shade of gold.

Why is your gorilla worked up?Send.

Because I want to kill a stranger named Rook.

Huh.Don’t sent me shirtless pics anymore. You’re better than that.

A minute went by with no response, so she figured the conversation was over. She was learning him. He hung for a minute, then she popped at him and he left her alone.

She gave a private, smug smile, but it slipped from her lips as she stared at her dark phone screen. She didn’t really want him to leave her alone right now. It was nice talking like this, when she didn’t have to see his face and remember their time in the prison. Maybe that was just the buzz talking, though.

Her phone lit up, and she pulled it up quick. He’d sent another picture, and this time it was him in front of the full-length mirror on the bathroom door, six-pack flexed, shoulders and arms all puffed up and huge. Scars everywhere, and the forest scene tattoo that covered his entire right arm. His pants hung low on his hips, exposing the elastic waist of his underwear. His chin was tilted into the air, and he wore a smirk. The caption read,Don’t tell me what to do.

Kat chewed the corner of her thumbnail, and did a quick glance around before she looked at the picture again. This was the finest man she’d ever seen. From the breadth of his wide shoulders, to his trim waist, to the defined abs, and the light trail of hair that traveled from his belly button down into the elastic of his underwear. And that expression on his face that oozed utter confidence was so attractive. She’d always liked powerful, confident men, and she’d been there when this one went to war with the phoenix. He had confidence, and his animal did too.

How many mates do you have in your family group?Send.

Zero. Family group is dismantled. My fault. Don’t want to talk about it. Please ask anything else.

That was fair. That was a big ask, and while she was now even more curious about his story, it wasn’t right to push him. Not when he’d shown her kindness today.

What’s your favorite color?Send.

Used to be green, but now it’s blue.

Why did it change?Send.

It changed when I saw the sky today. It’s been awhile. I missed it. What’s yours?

Hopeful that it would steady out her drumming heart rate, Kat huffed a steadying breath and began to type.I always said my favorite color was the green in Rook’s eyes, when his lion wasn’t riled up. I liked him from early on. Over time, the green didn’t show up much. He was always angry. He was paired with my friend, and he was bringing me on too, and had two others lined up. He wanted a lot of mates. I was so blind to it, I listened to his lies. He only wanted to be with me. He wanted me to be his Queen. He wanted to give me the world. I had loved him before he took on my friend, and she didn’t want him. She hated him, and I was so hurt, but he was making me promises that he would set it right.Kat looked up to see her reflection in the mirror behind some liquor bottles behind the bar. Her scar was so stark when she didn’t cover it with makeup. She dropped her gaze to her phone and finished the text.Green isn’t my favorite color anymore either. I don’t know myself well enough to pick a favorite color yet. I know I should be embarrassed, being an adult woman and admitting that, but I don’t. I don’t know myself. Not anymore.She hesitated to send it, her thumb hovering right over the button. This was getting too deep. Much too deep.

She set her phone down, sipped down the remainder of her drink, and listened to the banjo player. Eventually, she turned at the sound of laughter, and watched the men playing pool. They were cutting up, throwing money on the table in a bet. Life went on.

Ruth started making her another drink, and she allowed it. She still felt good and buzzed, not dizzy.

Fuck it. She opened up the text and hit the send button, then shoved her phone into her pocket, threw cash on the counter with a tip for Ruth, and took her new drink over toward the pool tables.

Life went on.

Life went on.

Life went on.

What had happened had happened. She could let it all haunt her forever, or she could accept that she hadn’t been perfect, and that she’d made mistakes. She’d given a man too much grace, and fought for something she had no business fighting for. She’d messed up so much, and she had to deal with that. She had to live with it, but again…life went on.

Tonight, she was going to do something she’d sworn she would never do again.