Cross (Dark Kings 3)

“We need to talk,” Cross speaks, his voice still rough from the sex we just had.

So much for avoiding this. Who knew a King would ever utter those words. “About?” I play dumb because let’s face it, it could go one of two ways.

“What happened before I carried you off into my bedroom,” he answers, turning onto his side, curling his arm around me.

That doesn’t answer my question. “Fine. You can join the girls and me for lunch later.” I dodge the conversation.

“Alexa.” His arm wrapped around me, forces me to turn to face him. Removing his arm, he reaches up, running his thumb over my still parted lips. “You. Me. Us. Grave.”

I sigh.

“It’s important that you understand things have changed now.”

“It doesn’t have to,” I say softly, unable to meet his eyes so I look at his skull tattoo on his chest. Even though it has no eyes, I swear it’s staring into my soul.

Gently gripping my chin, he forces my eyes to meet him. “I want it to.”

My breath catches at his words.

“Grave asked me if I loved you.”

My eyes widen. “Why would he ask you that?”

“I didn’t get to answer him. April stormed in.” He doesn’t answer my question.

“That’s a good thing,” I breathe.

“I was going to say yes.”

I swallow nervously. He shifts onto his left forearm and looks down at me. His right hand cups my cheek. “I didn’t realize it until this morning. When I received the call that your bar was on fire. For a moment, I forgot you were standing in my bathroom.” His eyes search mine. “I understood what I’d be losing. If someone hurt you.” His hand drops to my chest, and he places his palm on my skin, feeling my heart race. “If someone took you from me. Alexa … I don’t need you to feel the same way.” He gives me a smile as if he won a bet. “But I want you to understand that …” He leans down and tenderly kisses my parted lips. “I’m in love with you. And when a King finds his queen, he’s one hundred percent committed.” Pulling away, he cups my face.

I open my mouth, but his lips find mine again, and before I know it, he’s back on top of me. I’m desperate for him.

His touch.

His words.

His love.

I never thought it would feel like this. Like I’m the only woman in the world. Nothing before him ever mattered.

CROSS

I SHOVE MY father back, and he hits the podium, knocking it over.

He stands, rubbing the blood off his chin with the back of his hand. “Is that all you’ve got, son? I’ve been training you for years now, and you’re still a weak little boy.”

I rush him again, this time, bending my knees and picking him up over my shoulder. I throw his body down onto the floor and hear bones break.

His laughter bounces off the cathedral ceilings, and they make my skin crawl. “You’re fucking pathetic,” I spit at him. I walk away, giving him my back. Going home. My mom needs me there. If that’s where Mr. Reed even took her. She needs to know that she can leave his ass. Why the fuck has she stayed this long anyway, money? Money isn’t everything.

“You know.” He laughs roughly, “She never once stood up for you.”

My feet come to a stop, and I slowly turn around to see him still sitting on the floor, leaning up against the fallen podium.

“It was her idea, actually.” He pulls a cigarette out of the inside of his leather jacket and lights it up. Putting it to his lips, he takes in a big drag and then lets it out. “Do you know why you were born, Cross?” He calls me by the nickname I was given when I was younger due to the kids who saw the scars on my back that he gave me. “You were born for a purpose, son.”

I snort at that. “No one was born to burn.”

“You were born because your mother wanted a baby who would pay for our sins.”

I look away from him, not wanting to believe what he says, but deep down, I know it’s true. She has never tried to stop him from hurting me. She’s never been nothing more than a doting wife and a pathetic fucking mother.

“You don’t live in this world without paying debts, son.” He gets to his feet once again. “Get used to it. The debts will get too big to pay with your own flesh.” With that, he drags himself back to his office.

I’ve fought him a lot over the years. Most ended in me getting my ass kicked. But he’s gotten older, slower, weaker. Where I’ve grown bigger, stronger, angrier.

I go to leave but stop staring up at the front of the church. I’ve been a prisoner to this place ever since I was born. The crosses, the burns and the humiliation.