Throne of Scars (Lost Kings MC 20)

“Serena,” he says in a tone low enough not to be overheard but stern enough to grab my attention. “Stop thinking I’m mad at you.” His mouth curves into a wry smile. “I’m relieved everything still works at my age.”

“What? You’re not that old,” I sputter. “You’ve certainly never disappointed me in that area.” I’ve been with men half his age that don’t have his stamina or had some other weird sexual dysfunction. I doubt Gray will appreciate that comparison, though. “Besides, you always hear about some celebrity fathering kids into his nineties or whatever.”

He scoffs. “Please, half the time, it’s probably donors. Stories made up to soothe their egos and deny their impending visit from the grim reaper.”

“Ewww.” My nose wrinkles but I can’t help laughing.

“That’s better.” He pats my hand and sits back. “Do you want dessert?”

“I do, in the worst way.” I turn in my seat, checking out the restaurant. “Do you think they have cake and ice cream?”

“Let’s find out.”

Grinder

This is so fucking weird. Conversation with Serena feels like trying to capture a feral kitten tonight. She’s so suspicious and defensive. I keep trying to remind myself it has more to do with her past experiences than me, but it’s hard to watch her struggling so much when all I want to do is hold her in my arms.

I want things back to the way they were. Before her attack. I still haven’t processed that the guy who hurt Serena is dead. His brains blown out right in front of me. Not that it matters, I’m used to gore and death. And in my life there always seems to be another enemy waiting to be dealt with.

The waiter stops at our table and clasps his hands in front of him. “Can I interest you in dessert tonight?”

“Yes,” I answer quickly, worried Serena will change her mind out of embarrassment or something silly. “Do you have any cake?”

“Oh yes.” The guy’s eyes light up, like maybe he baked them personally. “We have a decadent chocolate blackout cake. Moist layers of chocolate cake smothered between thick frosting and—”

“That,” Serena says. “I’ll have that.”

“Excellent choice.” He turns toward me. “We also have—”

“She wants ice cream with the cake.” I nod to Serena.

“Oh, yes. I can do that. The cake is very rich, though—”

“Do you have strawberry ice cream?” she asks.

“Ah, we have a raspberry gelato.”

“Oh, that sounds even better.” Serena beams at him. “Can I have them separate?”

“Absolutely,” he answers without skipping a beat. “Sir?”

He rattles off a list and I pick tiramisu.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, two.”

“Decaf for me, please,” Serena says.

I raise an eyebrow but don’t ask.

After he leaves, Serena leans over the table. “I’m not sure if I can have coffee.” She blinks quickly. “Shoot, maybe I’m not supposed to eat chocolate either.” She reaches for her purse, hooked over the back of her chair, and pulls out her cell phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Googling it. Although, you get so many contradicting answers, I don’t know what to think.” She pauses, staring at her phone and flicking her thumb over the screen. “Moderation. Big help,” she grumbles, tucking her phone away.

“I’m sure pregnant women eat chocolate all the time.”

“I know.” She glances down. “I just want to do everything right.”

“I can’t imagine having to worry about small things like that every day for the next nine months,” I say quietly. “And I’ll never be able to understand what it’s like. That’s what I meant about wanting to take care of the things I can. So you can concentrate on all these other things that I can’t help with.” Since she didn’t seem to take me seriously yesterday, and last night I thought about how to express it better, it makes sense to bring it up again.

“Like what?”

“Like your bills.” I wiggle my fingers in a give it to me gesture. “Put all your monthly expenses together and hand them over Friday. Unless you’ve got something that needs to be paid right now.”

Her jaw drops. Damn, she’s awfully cute when she’s surprised. Although, I don’t know why it’s such a shock. Real men take care of their responsibilities.

“But I’m going to find another job. I already had a sort-of offer…”

My jaw works from side to side. “You were struggling to pay everything before you lost your job. Let me help you get caught up, then…you’re going to need to take some time off.”

She stares down at her hands. “I don’t have a lot. Rent and car insurance. My student loans are a big one, some medical bills, oh, and I have to pay the full tab for my health insurance from the old job until I find a new one. Definitely going to need that.” Her mouth turns down. See, she’s already getting stressed thinking about all this shit.

“Doesn’t sound like anything I can’t handle, buttercup.”