Rebel Obsession (All the King's Men)

by Donya Lynne

  The last memory he had of his father had been tainted with pain and blame, and Trace had thought his father had been killed long ago, along with his brother.

  Life without his brother had been hard in and of itself. Brak had been Trace’s proverbial lightning rod. The one person Trace had been able to count on to keep him grounded. Losing Brak had been devastating, but thinking he had lost his father had left Trace feeling even emptier.

  But now his father was back. Maddox was alive. It made him wonder if Brak was still out there somewhere. Unlikely, but hope bubbled in his heart nonetheless.

  How long had his father been held in that lab? Where had he been? Was he okay? Had he finally accepted what had happened to Trace’s mother?

  Sitting with bent legs on the small bed in his cell, Trace bowed his head and settled his forehead on his folded arms, which rested on his knees.

  He didn’t know how long he sat that way before he became aware he was being watched. Snapping his head up, he saw Cordray standing outside his cell. Her long hair was pulled up in a tight ponytail that draped over her shoulder and down the front of her body.

  Trace lowered his feet to the floor and frowned, bristling. “You sure enjoy breaking the king’s rules, honey.” He wondered how she had been permitted to see him when the king had clearly stated he wasn’t allowed to have visitors.

  “Don’t you worry about me,” she said, eyeing him.

  Trace chuffed. “Don’t compliment yourself.”

  “Fuck you, Trace.”

  He flipped her off without meeting her gaze. “Will that be all?”

  Cordray’s face remained placid. “I thought I could help.”

  Trace scoffed. “I don’t need your help, honey.”

  “I could have told Bain what you did to Deacon, but I didn’t.”

  Trace pushed up off the tiny bed and stalked to the front of his cell. “Don’t go doing me any favors. You’re the reason I’m in here to begin with.”

  “No, you’re the reason you’re in here, Traceon.” Cordray arched a slender eyebrow at him, her brilliant blue eyes locking onto his.

  “Whatever.” Trace turned and marched away. “Fuck off, okay. How about you just fuck off and leave me alone?”

  Not to be deterred, Cordray pushed onward. “You had a choice, Traceon. You knew the law and you chose to break it. Actions lead to consequences. If you can’t take—”

  Trace spun around. “Spare me your philosophical ruminations, bitch. I don’t need your bullshit right now.”

  She shot needles at him from her eyes. “Fuck off. I’m not the one locked behind bars, and I’ll do and say whatever I want.” She tilted her head to the side. “And I’ll go wherever I want, too. If you don’t like it, you can suck my ass, because I don’t give two shits about you or whether you live or die. You got that?”

  “Then why are you here? Afraid I’ll die without saying goodbye?”

  A flash of emotion crossed her face—one Trace couldn’t identify, but which reminded him of dismay or surprise.

  “You’d better get used to me, Traceon,” she said, composing herself as quickly as she had faltered, taking a step back and placing her hands behind her as if she was at military at ease.

  Wearing a black, sequined tank top with the image of a black widow on the front, along with black cargo pants and studded platform boots with three-inch heels, she looked like more like the military fashion police than a soldier. Especially with all that ink and metal decorating her body.

  “Why’s that? You moving in to the cell next to mine?” Oh joy, what a ride that would be.

  “No, dickhead. Because when you’re out of here, I’ll be your boss.”

  A haughty laugh punched out of Trace’s throat. “As if! You couldn’t boss my dick, bitch.”

  The corners of Cordray’s mouth turned up almost wickedly, her eyes narrowing with self-satisfaction.

  Trace stopped laughing. “You’re serious?”

  “Oh yeah, big guy. Dead serious. You’ll be serving your community service at my shelter. If you ever want to work at AKM again, you’ll do as I tell you.” Her eyes dropped to his crotch. “And what was that you were saying about bossing your dick?” Her bright eyes lifted to his, one brow arching. And then she spun on her heel and sashayed away, head held high. Self-righteous little huss.

  Trace looked down.

  What the fuck? His pecker had sprouted to full attention, making a healthy tent in the scratchy canvas pants he’d been forced to put on before going into lockup. The bulge left nothing to the imagination.

  “That’s quite a package…Traceon,” Cordray called back, sniggering quietly.

  “Fuck off…Cordray.” He really hated that bitch. Damn her. But she had him by the short and curlies, and didn’t that just suck a donkey’s dick?

  At least fighting with her gave him an outlet for his power. But if he wasn’t careful, he could get addicted to verbally sparring with her, and that was something he really didn’t want to see happen.

  He’d just as soon knock Cordray out the first opportunity he got. Someone needed to put her in her place, and Trace hoped the task would fall to him. Soon.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  Io’s ringing cell phone awoke him, and he rolled into Miriam’s warmth, trying to ignore it.

  “That’s the third time it’s rung in the last fifteen minutes,” Miriam said, stroking her fingers across his cheek and kissing his forehead.

  “I know, but I don’t want to answer it.” He had a feeling he knew who it was, or at least what the incessant phone calls were about.

  Honestly, he was shocked the king’s guards hadn’t come busting down his door to retrieve Miriam by now. Having King Bain’s men interrupt his time with Miriam was becoming the status quo—a fucked up déjà vu he lived over and over. He and Miriam hadn’t made any efforts to flee or hide, choosing to stay in his home and steal as much time as they had together before being ripped apart, but here they were, four days later, and still no one had come to arrest him and take her back home.

  The call went to voicemail and he nuzzled his face against Miriam’s neck. She smelled of him. His scent was all over her, and hers was all over him. Not surprising since they had spent the past four days without an inch between them. His calling hadn’t cared that a child already grew within Miriam’s belly. It had continued to demand he make regular deposits of his fertile offering, a command Io was more than happy to comply with.

  “How do you feel?” he said, snuggling closer.

  “Good.”

  He grinned at the sound of the lazy smile in her voice.

  “No withdrawal?” He had faithfully been preparing doses of elixir for her every six hours, but the last dose had been over seven hours ago.

  “No.” She relaxed more fully against him and kissed the top of his head. “You’ve taken excellent care of me, Io.”

  His eyes remained closed, and he grinned as they shifted so that he spooned her. “You’re getting better already.” He opened his eyes and brushed her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck.

  “I know. I can feel it.”

  The phone started ringing again.

  “Fuck.” Io sighed heavily.

  “You should answer it. Get it over with.” Miriam dropped her face into the pillow, obviously not liking the disruption to the peaceful existence they had created during the past four days.

  Miriam was right, of course. He was only putting off the inevitable.

  With another sigh, he rolled back and snagged his phone from the nightstand.

  It was Micah. Not exactly who he had expected, but close enough.

  “Yeah?”

  “Sorry to interrupt you, Io. I know you’re busy and all….” Micah cleared his throat. “You’ve been summoned to appear before King Bain for your sentencing to be carried out.”

  And there was the hammer falling. Io’s heart dropped.

  “When?”

  “An hour after sundown, which is in about….�
� Micah paused as if checking the time. “That’s about two hours from now.”

  Miriam turned and laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around him.

  “We’ll be there,” Io said.

  “We?”

  “I’m bringing Miriam with me. She doesn’t leave my sight.” His free arm encircled her and held her tightly.

  “Understood. I’d feel the same way if it were Sam.”

  Io frowned, realizing something. “Hey, why are you calling me instead of Tristan?”

  A long pause, then, “Because I’m in charge now.”

  “What?” If Io had still been drowsy, he was now wide-awake.

  “You heard me. Tristan got suspended and King Bain put me in charge in the interim.”

  “There goes the neighborhood.”

  “Yeah, fuck you, too.”

  Io actually smiled. In the past few weeks, he’d come to like Micah. “You’ll make a good boss.”

  “Don’t blow smoke up my ass.”

  “I’m being serious, asshole.” Io wished he could live long enough to see how well Micah ran the team, but he knew he was as good as dead when he returned Miriam to her father.

  “Yeah, well….” Micah trailed off as if he didn’t know how to take the compliment. “Just get in here, you got me?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got you.” Io glanced down at the top of Miriam’s head. He could already smell her tears. “And don’t worry. I won’t play hero this time. I’ll turn myself in without a fight, okay?”

  “Okay, buddy. See you soon.”

  “See ya.”

  He hung up and set his phone down.

  “Miriam, look at me, baby.” He tucked his index finger under her chin and urged her to look up.

  Her beautiful eyes glistened with tears.

  “I don’t want you to go,” she said.

  “It’s okay. I’m okay now. But you have to promise me. You will have our baby and raise it for us. For both of us. Don’t do anything stupid, okay? Promise me.”

  She fought not to sob but failed, breaking down.

  “Promise me, Miri. I need to know you’ll take care of yourself and our baby.”

  The fantasy that he would be a father was over. They wouldn’t be together forever or raise their child together. He was sentenced for execution. The royal decree had already been announced. He couldn’t hope that his saving King Bain’s daughter would grant him leniency.

  Miriam sobbed, and her tears fell against his chest. “I promise, Io. I promise.”

  “Come here,” he pulled her up and kissed her. “Make love to me again. One last time before we go. I want to feel you one last time, Miri.”

  Miriam gave him everything she had to give, opening her body and her soul to him. And when she came, he let himself go, too, pouring all the love he had in his heart into his release, hoping it would be enough to sustain her after he was gone.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  King Bain sat at the richly carved desk in his chambers. The desk had been his father’s before his, and his father’s before him. The elegant antique had weathered time through exquisite care and love, having been crafted by hands older than he was and restored numerous times.

  He ran his large hand over the smooth surface and looked at the picture of his daughter, so small on his lap, with her dark curls hanging around her heart-shaped face.

  But Miriam was no longer a babe. She had grown into a mature and strong-willed female, stubborn and independent, decisive and passionate, ready to die for what she believed in. At one time, Bain had thought the traits to be a weakness in her, but now he realized that those same attributes were what made him such an effective and powerful king.

  Miriam would make a fine ruler of the race if it ever came to that. Queen Miriam. Unlike with her brother, Colin, who didn’t have the spine to rule, King Bain felt no trepidation if he suddenly died and had to leave the future of the race in her hands. She was more than capable to take care of anything that needed done.

  But for now, Bain was still in charge, and he had hard decisions to make. Decisions that put his family second and risked estranging his daughter from him forever. But that was what it meant to be king.

  He rose and headed for the door, weary of all that had happened and all that he still had to face, but Io and Miriam were waiting for him. It was time to get this over with.

  Opening the door, he walked the short distance down the hall and entered the large room where he had met with the others a few days ago, where Cordray had picked apart the minds of the two drecks, who were now locked in his dungeon.

  Io and Miriam sat at the far end of the table, holding each other as if they would never let go. Their eyes lifted in unison and looked at him as he approached.

  Io made to stand, but Bain lifted his hand.

  “No, Io. Stay seated.”

  Io frowned and settled back into Miriam’s arms. It was obvious she had been crying.

  “Let’s make this quick,” Io said. “I don’t want Miriam to suffer any longer than she has to.”

  Bain slammed his fist down on the table, causing the posted guards to jump. One cleared his throat awkwardly, as if embarrassed.

  “You insufferable bastard. Do you think I wish for my daughter to suffer, Io? She is my daughter. I should know her better than—” King Bain’s voice cracked and he quickly turned away.

  He refused to break in front his daughter or her mate. A strong front and solid show of power were critical for a king, who needed to remain personally detached from his work.

  He bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. The truth was Bain couldn’t remain personally detached. That was his daughter. His blood. His child. His baby. And while he should know her better than anyone, he didn’t. Because he had ceased being a critical part of her life a long time ago.

  “Father?” Miriam’s perfect voice touched his ears with concern.

  Drawing in a lungful of air, Bain held it, fighting his emotions before blowing it out and clearing his throat. His baby wasn’t a baby anymore. She was all grown up. Carrying a child of her own. His grandchild and future heir.

  “Daddy?” Despite being an adult, Bain heard the little girl she had been over forty years ago speaking to him, her high-pitched voice ringing like silver bells as she patted his cheeks, smiling her precious little-girl smile.

  Daddy, play Barbie with me.

  Not now, honey. Daddy has work to do.

  Damn him for never giving Miriam the time she had deserved. All she had wanted was for him to play with her and give her a little attention, but he had always been too busy being king to be a father.

  He didn’t want to miss any more of Miriam’s life, and he didn’t want her child growing up without a father the way he’d condemned Miriam to grow up without one.

  Breaking down, he bowed his head into his hands, and for the first time in his life, he cried in front of others. Never since his childhood had he allowed himself the luxury of sorrow where others could see it. Not even when his father died had he broken down until he was safely alone.

  “Leave us,” he heard Miriam say from behind him.

  He assumed she was telling the guards to leave, and within seconds he heard the door open and close as they did.

  “Daddy?” Her hand touched the back of his shoulder.

  That was all it took for him to completely shatter. Her tender caress undid him, and in an instant, he whipped around and pulled her into his grasp, hugging her harder than he could ever remember.

  “I love you, Miri. I love you so much. I’m so sorry. I’ve never been the father you deserved. But if you’ll let me, I’ll make it up to you or die trying. I promise.” He sobbed through his words, burying his face in her hair.

  * * *

  Miriam could hardly breathe. Her father held her so tightly.

  It took her a moment to shift gears, but before she could stop herself, she threw her arms around him and let fresh tears flow down her cheeks
and against his shirt.

  “Daddy….” She hadn’t called him daddy since she was a little girl who thought of him as her hero.

  “I can’t lose you, Miri. You mean too much to me.” He kissed her hair and reinforced his hold on her.

  “I’m still here, Daddy.” Her own embrace tightened. “You just haven’t listened.”

  “I know, sweetheart. God, I know.” He spoke against the top of her head, washing her scalp in warmth. “But that stops right now. I promise.”

  She let herself get lost in her father’s outpouring of love, feasting on it, having craved it for so long, and then she pushed away.

  He resisted, but she had to make sure he knew she was a package deal now. If he couldn’t accept Io as her mate, his breakthrough and show of emotion wouldn’t matter, because if he forced her to choose, she would choose Io.

  “Father,” she said, wiping her tears away and composing herself. She needed him to take her seriously.

  Her father frowned, but it was an expression of pain, not anger.

  “Father, I love you, but….” She turned and looked at Io, who had stood but remained back by the table, giving her room to work this out with her father. “Io is my mate, Father. If you want to make amends with me—”

  But her father was walking away from her, toward Io, wiping his face with his palm as if he didn’t hear her.

  As he drew near Io, Miriam feared the worst and held her breath as she watched Io take a wary step backward.

  “Forgive me.” Her father extended his hand toward Io. “I’m Miriam’s father. It’s…” It was obvious that sucking up his pride was hard for him and that he still needed to work through the ghosts that haunted him over realizing she was no longer his little girl. But he was making an effort. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Io.”

  Io glanced at her, his eyes wide. Then he stared down at her father’s outstretched hand as if it were a poisonous snake before looking up and meeting his eyes.

  Miriam could only imagine how confused Io was.