King (Endgame Book 1)

by Riley Ashby

  I had asked the doctor to come to see us at the house, but after Ellery gave him a rundown of what Vail and I had gone through, he insisted we come to his office so he could run tests and examine us more thoroughly. Vail went first but nearly had a panic attack being alone in the room with the doctor. Ellery, Tori, and Castel all leaped to their feet, but it was Tori who slipped into the room with her. When they emerged an hour later, both were shaken but still standing.

  Ellery tried to follow me in next but was prevented as well. I smiled at him reassuringly as we went into the exam room. Since I had gotten off relatively easy, my checkup was quicker than Vail’s. The doctor noted my bruising and bleeding with a frown.

  “Stay here,” he said, leaving with my blood and urine samples. I bounced on the table anxiously, still dressed in the hospital gown. When the doctor came back in, his face was drawn.

  “What is it? What's wrong?” My heart flew to my throat. Had that bastard infected me with something after all? Was my fight all for nothing?

  “Nothing is wrong, I don't think. I need to ask you a serious question, though.”

  He sat in front of me and clasped his hands between his knees.

  “Sophie, I've known Ellery a long time, his sister too. I treated him as a teenager and continue to do so to this day … when he actually bothers to come in for his checkups. But I want you to know, if there is a situation going on, a situation you want to leave, I will help you in any way possible.”

  I was struck dumb for a second. He thought Ellery was abusing me? “No. God no. That's not what's happening at all. The marks …”

  I caught my words, trying to gather myself and not appear desperate. Of course, he noticed some of my bruises were only a few hours old. I didn't want to confess anything about my sex life to this man, but the last thing I wanted was police showing up at the house for a welfare check.

  “We … we have an understanding.” My face flushed. It was the nicest way I could think to say it. “I enjoy it when my lover hits me during sex, and he enjoys hitting me.”

  I wasn't sure if the explanation was enough, but relief passed over the doctor's face.

  “I'm glad to hear that, Sophie. But please, know that I'm here in the future. For anything.”

  I nodded earnestly. “Thank you, Doctor. Truly.”

  He smiled then stood. “Then I think we should bring him in here, so I can let you both know what I found.”

  A minute later, Ellery was standing next to me and demanding a full report from the doctor. I put my hand over his. He kissed the top of my head briefly.

  “She's in excellent shape, Ellery.” The doctor was sitting again, looking between us both. “You're fortunate. I don't think there's going to be any permanent effects from your trip.”

  I sighed in relief, but Ellery folded his arms. He was wound up. “But?”

  I looked from him to the doctor, confused. Was there something else?

  “I did find something. It looks like it happened a few weeks ago.” He motioned to a chair. “You might want to sit.”

  “I'm fine,” Ellery snapped, and I pinched his hand.

  “Be nice,” I whispered, but he didn't soften.

  “What is wrong? Did I hurt her?” His voice caught on the last word, and below his impatience and anger was fear that he had gone too far.

  The doctor opened his mouth, closed it again, and looked at me.

  The realization came crashing down.

  “I'm pregnant.” The doctor nodded, not looking at Ellery. My head felt detached from my body, but I pulled myself together quickly as Ellery crashed into the chair behind him.

  “What?” His eyes flashed between the two of us, panicked. “But … the morning-after pill …”

  “I told you I needed more than one.” My attempt at humor went unnoticed. I couldn't even tell how he felt about the news. His face was white with shock.

  “I can show you, if you'd like.” The doctor indicated an ultrasound machine in the corner, and at my agreement quickly set it up. The cold wand was a bit of a relief on my abused skin. A moment later, a grainy image appeared on the screen, and the doctor indicated a small spot.

  “I'd say about six weeks. It's the size of a sweet pea.”

  I tore my eyes from my child to look at Ellery, who was staring at the screen with an indecipherable expression. What was I going to do if he didn’t want to be a father? Would he disavow any responsibility? Surely not. Surely, he would still help me, if not emotionally then financially. I could be a mother on my own … Living without Ellery, however, was another matter.

  I could see the static of the ultrasound image reflected in his eyes. It was like looking at the night sky.

  “That's ours?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

  He was on his feet in a flash, my face in his hands and his lips against mine.

  “I love you so fucking much,” he whispered, each word punctuated with a kiss. “I've never been so happy.”

  I realized the doctor had withdrawn, pressing a small printout into my hand as he slipped out of the room. I sat and leaned against Ellery, looking at the first picture of our child.

  “A sweet pea,” I murmured, stroking the image.

  There was so much weight on me from the past two months. The fear of leaving home, the betrayal of my father, the confusion of all my emotions and uncertainty of how to move forward. It all fell away as I splayed my hand across my stomach, imagining I could feel the tiny life growing inside me.

  He held me against his chest. I could feel his heart hammering. “I mean, if you want—”

  I cut him off with a kiss, pressing the picture against his heart. “There's nothing I want more at this moment than to have this baby with you,” I whispered.

  He laughed in relief, unable to pull away. He kissed me again, stealing the last breath out of my lungs. “I can think of something I want more right now.” He pushed my hair back from my face, a smile stretching across his. He couldn't hide the lust in his eyes. “Get dressed. I'm taking us home.”

  When Sophie entered my life, a bittersweet cycle had started. I took my first breath the first time she walked into my home, and my will to live was tethered to her heartbeat. When she walked away with Chase, my heart stood still until I held her again. And when the doctor revealed she was carrying our child, I found a new reason to live. Eight months later, I held Sophie's hand as she suffered through forty-eight hours of contractions, multiple epidurals that did nothing for her pain. She refused to have a C-section unless the baby was in danger. My heart broke with every scream until it finally split in two … then those two pieces started beating the moment the doctor placed our daughter against her chest. Her head fell back against the pillow, her tears mingling with laughter as our tiny little girl's cry filled the room. The moment the nurses left us alone, I climbed into bed with her while she nursed our baby at her breast. I didn't allow them to take her to the nursery, opting instead to sleep on the couch in the hospital room so I could sit with Sophie for every feeding.

  We named her Rhiannon, because she was our princess. One day, she would be a queen.

  We struggled, like all new parents do, with sleepless nights and arguments over whose turn it was to change her diaper. We fought more than we ever had. But no matter what, I got up every time Rhiannon cried and carried her from her room to ours, holding Sophie against my chest as she nursed. And finally, a few weeks after we brought our baby home and after Sophie had plenty of time to heal, we made love again. She did ask me to be gentle, but not for long.

  *

  On our daughter's six-month birthday, after putting her to bed, I pulled Sophie through the secret passageway into the library. She loved to spend time here, more so now that she was reading to our daughter. I would come home from days in the city to find them reading, or napping, blankets and toys and books made of hard cardboard spread across the floor. My home was no longer the immaculate single man’s castle I had kept for all these ye
ars. There was always dirty laundry to be washed, even with staff to do it for us. More than once I had cracked a plastic toy under the soles of my shoes as I walked too quickly through a room. Some of my favorite shirts had been ruined by spit-up stains that didn’t get treated quickly enough.

  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  I had my jacket on even though there was no one in the house with us tonight, and I folded it carefully over a chair. The ring in the pocket was over a year old at this point. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to ask her after we got back from New York.

  “Please don’t propose to me yet,” she said on the very day I had planned to take her to dinner at the most expensive restaurant I could find and make her mine in front of the entire city. She wrapped her arms around my neck as she spoke, reassuring me with her body that she wasn’t worried about our commitment or promises to each other. “I’m beyond stressed with planning for the changes that are coming. I can’t think about a wedding.” She pulled back to look at me, searching my eyes for signs of hurt or feelings of rejection. But I understood her reticence. I knew she loved me, and I wanted her to be mine, but I could never do anything to cause her hardship.

  When we first went to tell her father about the baby, he’d called her a whore and demanded a dowry from me. She ran from the house crying, unable to cope with the way her father had abandoned her after everything she had done for him. Other times I would catch her running her fingernails over the skin of her wrist, a far-off look in her eyes, and I knew she was distracting herself from the memories of that night in New York. Some days her anxiety and trauma meant she couldn’t get out of bed without my assistance. It didn’t bother me that she needed more time, because I lived to serve and care for her. If my beloved wanted time to adjust to our new situation, I would give it to her. I had no other choice, not when I loved her as much as I did.

  Now, we had both done enough waiting.

  I hadn’t eaten all day between meetings and playing with our daughter. Sophie had a doctor’s appointment that had kept her out of the house for several hours. Her hair was a messy bun on top of her head; she lounged against me on the floor in yoga pants and a tank top with skinny little straps that I slowly pulled down her shoulders until I had the fabric bunched around her waist and my lips were against her breasts.

  I loved the way she tasted since she had become a mother. There was a different quality to her flavor, a distinctive new way that her skin felt beneath my tongue. She arched beneath my touch, quiet gasps in the flickering firelight that was our only illumination.

  No one else in the world existed besides us.

  We were silent as we shed each other’s clothing, skin sliding against skin as perspiration beaded on the surface and brought us together at the moment we kissed. She moaned my name into my mouth, sucking my tongue, fingers digging into my ass to pull me deeper.

  “Marry me,” I whispered, catching myself off guard. I wasn’t going to ask her like this. I had a speech prepared.

  Her eyes widened, but I didn’t stop moving. Let her say yes as I filled her, if that’s what was meant to happen. Let her scream out the answer at the peak of her orgasm and wake the creatures asleep in the trees outside.

  She shoved against my chest, pushing me onto my back and rolling on top of me. She pulled my hands up to cradle her breasts as she rode me harder and faster.

  “Ask again,” she said, breathless, our hips sliding together in rhythm.

  “Will you marry me?” I begged, pleaded, implored with every ounce of my body and soul. Every moment she went without answering was sheer torture.

  “Yes,” she whispered, and we came together just as we always did.

  Five minutes later, she stared endlessly at the princess cut diamond set in white gold adorning her left hand.

  “It’s perfect,” I whispered, admiring the way it fit her finger as if molded to her skin.

  “It’s huge,” she said, laughing, but she wasn’t displeased. She hadn’t stopped smiling.

  “Any bigger I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to walk.” I laughed and kissed her cheek. Her right hand lay splayed across my heart.

  “It’ll get caught on my clothes.” She stopped looking at it finally to wrap herself around me tighter. “I was getting impatient.”

  I put her on her back, pinning those slender wrists above her head. Her hair was spread out like a halo, and in that moment, I didn’t think she had ever looked more beautiful. “You were the one who told me to wait.”

  She gave me a naughty grin. “And you waited just long enough.”

  She kissed me until the light of dawn.

  *

  A year after the night I proposed, I ran my fingers across Sophie’s skin as I undid the zipper of her wedding gown.

  I had known she would look gorgeous in whatever she wore, but I wasn’t prepared to be so blown away by the woman who was to become my wife. My lungs ceased to work for a full minute when she appeared at the top of the aisle in her white satin and lace. I worried I was going to lose consciousness before I could tie her to me forever. I was never as happy as when she slid the ring she chose onto my finger and then kissed me before the minister told us to.

  Castel gave the best speech in living memory at our reception.

  “The two of you complement each other in ways many of us could only dream of,” he said. His eyes were red-rimmed from alcohol, but his voice was steady. It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to cut loose, having held himself to the high standards of the FBI for so many years. But he had started a new life since my sister came home, and I’d eventually gotten my best friend back.

  But I wasn’t thinking about him right now.

  “You have no idea what I'm going to do to you, Mrs. King.” I bit the soft flesh of her neck as the dress tumbled to the floor at her feet. I reached around to cradle her breasts, larger since Rhiannon was born and just as beautiful as the day we met. Her nipples peaked under my touch. Soft hair tickled my neck as her head fell back against my shoulder.

  “I think I have a pretty good idea.” She turned her head to bite me back then spun around to work on the buttons of my shirt. In a moment she had me stripped, and I was fastening her hands with my tie. The diamonds of her wedding band glittered in the low light, and I impulsively ducked my head to kiss her finger.

  “I'm never letting you go,” I whispered, laying her back on the bed and tying her hands to the headboard.

  “You never have to.” She arched her hips up against me, the lace of her bridal lingerie grating against my hardness. The pain was exquisite. She spread her legs wide, welcoming me, and I didn't even bother removing her panties. With one movement, I pushed them to the side and slid into her, unable to wait another second.

  She laughed. “No foreplay, Husband?”

  I bit her lower lip. “This is round one, Wife.” I rolled my hips, plunging deeper into her, and she didn't speak again except to scream in pleasure.

  Thank you for reading!

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  Rook (Endgame Series Book 2) available now!

  About the Author

  Riley Ashby lives in the American Midwest. She eats entirely too much tofu and owns just the right number of cats. King is her first book.

  Read on for a sneak peek from book two, ROOK, available now!

  The first thing I remembered after my slavery ended was waking up on a plane with my head resting against Castel Austen’s shoulder.

  On the second day, I woke up in his bed.

  I didn’t recognize where I was at first. The room was unfamiliar, the bedsheets foreign—I wasn’t in my normal room. Was this a trick? My breath came fast and hard,
causing my body to shake uncontrollably. I didn’t recognize anything I was looking at, or smelling, or feeling. And then he spoke.

  “You’re okay. Just relax.”

  I looked to my left to find Cas sitting three feet away in a chair. The heavy bags under his eyes were more pronounced than I had ever seen them, but he sat forward the moment I awoke. I calmed but only slightly.

  I had been dreaming of my last night with the man who took me. Chase Reilly was one of my brother’s business associates who, it turned out, ran an extensive network of human trafficking rings. He kept me for himself, finding his pleasure in my screams. The last night he had me, I’d been bound with chains.

  Not anymore. My hands moved freely.

  “Where am I?”

  “My room.”

  “No, I mean whose house am I at?”

  He sighed and folded his hands. The concern on his face was evident. “Your brother’s. Ellery.” As if I’d forgotten him. “We picked you up two days ago in New York and flew home to LA the same night. You’ve been asleep for about sixteen hours. We’re going to see the doctor in an hour.”

  Everything started to come back to me in waves. The drugs I was given had sapped my memories and made it hard for me to know what was real, but I remembered some things. A card game. An overturned chair. A girl I had never met before who was responsible for my being alive.

  My desire to remember what had happened was quickly overcome with a craving. It’d been at least a day since I’d had a hit of … of whatever they were giving me. Nausea wracked my empty stomach while goose bumps spread across my arms. I reached for my elbow automatically, seeking the vein. Shame bubbled up my throat as my addiction subsumed me.