King’s Wrath

by Nina Levine

  I hadn’t considered that option, but deep down I didn’t believe it to be the case. Dialling Mum’s number again, I put my phone to my ear and hoped to hell she answered and was okay.

  When I stabbed at the phone, frustrated, Ivy said, “You want me to call Mum and check on them?”

  “Yeah.”

  She rummaged in her bag and pulled her phone out.

  No answer.

  She tried again.

  Still no answer.

  Fuck it. “I’m going over there.”

  Ivy gripped my shirt. “That’s not a great idea, King. Let me go.”

  I shook my head. “No, you finish what you’re doing.”

  She followed me as I stalked out of the house. “King!”

  Turning to face her, I said, “Ivy, I’ve got this. I’ll be back soon.”

  Pursing her lips, she said, “You’ll screw everything up. Please don’t go.”

  Shoving my fingers through my hair, I demanded, “How the fuck will I screw it up? It’s already screwed up. I just want to—”

  “Mum called me today,” she blurted before stopping herself and biting her lip in the way she did when she’d said something she regretted.

  I closed the distance between us, my shoulders tensing as I waited to hear what she had to say. “And?”

  “She just wished me a Merry Christmas, that’s all,” she said a little too quickly for me to believe that was all that had been discussed.

  “Jesus, Ivy, just fucking tell me everything.”

  I saw the moment she decided to let it all out. Her expression flashed from frustration to anger to determination in the space of two seconds. Straightening, she said with force, “She told me how hurt she was about everything that’s happened this year with your mum and with me. She misses me and wants to fix things between us. I’m going to see her tomorrow.”

  That last bit threw me—we were supposed to be leaving on our road trip tomorrow. But what really pissed me off was that she thought I’d screw this up for her. I planted my feet wide and crossed my arms, settling in for a long discussion. “You don’t want me to go there now because you assume I’ll fuck shit up?”

  “Well, you did last time.”

  And there it was.

  Would we ever move past my last transgression?

  “I thought we’d moved on from that.” My tone had turned cold. I tried like hell to curtail it, but when Ivy cut deep, I retaliated with ice.

  She stared at me in silence, and I saw all the anger she still carried about this situation. I saw her judgement and her lack of faith in me. And when she finally spoke, I heard her resentment. “You might have, but I’m the one without my mother, not you.”

  Every ounce of self-control I had snapped. Anger rushed through my veins and required an outlet. I’d discussed this with Ivy until I was blue in the fucking face over the last two months. I’d apologised. I’d told her I’d do whatever she needed. I’d tried to fix shit with Bethany myself. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for her if she’d asked.

  But she didn’t fucking ask.

  She’d cried and held me at a distance and played her games with me. And all the while, she’d told me we would get through this. And now she wanted to throw this shit in my face.

  I turned away from her and punched the brick wall behind me. I’d fucking regret that later, but for now it was what I needed. I then stalked to my bike without even so much as a glance back at her.

  She came after me, though. “So that’s it then? You’re just going to walk away from me?”

  I spun around, anger rolling off me in waves I wasn’t sure I could control. “It’s safer for all of us if I get the fuck out of here.”

  She flinched. It was the first time she ever had. But she recovered fast and kept on coming. Slapping her hands against my chest, she yelled, “Do you want to hit me, King? Would that make you feel better?”

  I took a step back from her, my jaw clenching. There was no way in hell I’d ever hit a woman. But I needed to get out of here before I started tearing our relationship apart more than we already had.

  Fuck.

  I turned my back on her again, but she grabbed my arm and pulled me around to face her. Wild fury blew between us. “I miss my mother! Do you even get that? Or do you just care that you have me where you want me, and fuck everyone else?”

  “Of course I fucking get that you miss her! Where the fuck is this coming from?”

  “I’ve been telling you for weeks that I wanted her here tonight, but you hardly even listened to me. I feel so alone, King. You never talk to me about this!”

  “Fuck, you’ve told me twice that you wanted her here. Fucking twice! Not multiple times over weeks. And I don’t talk to you about her because it only ends in you shutting me out for days afterwards. You tell me, would you want to bring shit up with me if you knew I’d stop talking to you and touching you for days on end?”

  “I do not shut you out!”

  I threw my arms up in the air. Why the fuck did we always—always—see shit completely differently? “The last time I spoke to you about this was three weeks ago. Do you know how I know exactly what day that was?” I paused for a beat before pointing my finger at her and continuing. “You came home from work wearing a flower in your hair. A pink rose. You were sad because your mum had left you that nasty message on your phone. Remember? So I made you get changed into that red dress that I know makes you feel good, and I took you to see that movie you’d been jabbering on about for days. The chick flick with the woman whose husband screwed around on her.” I stepped closer to her and angled my face closer to hers. “You hated the fucking movie after all that, you hated the pork belly I bought you for dinner, and you cried when I asked you what the fuck was really going on. We talked about your mum and then you refused to talk to me or let me fuck you for three fucking days. I slept on the couch for three nights. Tell me you remember that, Ivy, because if I’m recalling this incorrectly, I’d really like to fucking know.”

  Before she had a chance to respond, Annika ran out of the house and flew down the front stairs, a look of complete terror on her face. Holding the phone out to me, she cried, “It’s Bethany!” Sobs blurred her words. “Mum’s been in a crash!”

  The world spun, anger and fear colliding as I took the phone from her. “Bethany,” I barked, “Tell me she’s okay.”

  Silence.

  Blood roared in my ears.

  “Tell me!” I thundered. “Fucking tell me my mother is okay!”

  A sob ripped through the phone. “Zachary….”

  I knew.

  I fucking felt it deep in my bones.

  Gripping the phone harder, I demanded, “Where?” When all I heard were sobs and no answer, I repeated, “Where is she?”

  “Oh, God… it was a drunk driver…. Margreet was turning out of my street when he hit her. Just smashed straight into the side of her car….”

  I passed the phone back to Annika. I didn’t want to hear another word that woman said. If it wasn’t for her, my mother wouldn’t be dead. If Bethany hadn’t insisted on this fucking cold war with Mum and Ivy, none of this would have happened.

  I had to go to her.

  To Mum.

  I had to see for myself.

  Fuck.

  It slammed into me.

  Like a movie, my life with Margreet rolled through my mind.

  The day I came to live with her.

  The times she held me when the night terrors claimed me.

  The days she collected me from school because I got myself into another fight, and still loved me anyway.

  My last day of high school when she told me she was proud of me. And that she believed I could achieve anything.

  I saw the Band-Aids, the cooked meals, the kisses, the time she gave, the sacrifices, and even the lectures.

  Margreet loved unconditionally.

  She fucking laid her heart down and let it bleed love.

  She was my one person
.

  The one who, no matter what I did and what I fucked up, I knew would never walk away from me. Would never hurt me.

  And now she was gone.

  As I got on my bike, voices drifted in and out, faces flashed in front of me, and hands reached for me. I zoned the fuck out until Ivy’s eyes came into focus.

  “King! Where are you going?”

  I blinked.

  Where the fuck did she think?

  I was going to see my mother.

  And then I was going to rain destruction down on those who took her from me.

  9

  King

  Three Months Later

  * * *

  Lifting the glass of whisky that had been placed in front of me on the clubhouse bar, I threw it down my throat in one gulp. I ground my teeth together at the burn and jerked my chin at Sadie for another one.

  She lifted her brows but did as I wanted. Sliding it across the bar, she said, “This is your last. Jethro will have my ass for this.”

  “Why?” I demanded before draining half the glass.

  “He told me last week to cut you back. Said he’s given you a three-month pass, but now he’s done. That it’s time for you to clean yourself up.” She nodded at the drink in my hand and added, “That’s more than half a bottle you’ve drunk tonight, so I’m not giving you any more.”

  I emptied the glass and slammed it down before moving off the stool. “Fucking asshole,” I muttered. If I wanted to fucking drink ten bottles, I fucking would.

  “King.” Jethro’s voice sounded behind me. “A word.”

  Turning, I scowled at him. “I’m busy, Jethro. What do you want?”

  Anger slid across his face. “My fucking office!” he barked.

  Less than a minute later, I stood in front of him and demanded, “What the fuck with the drinking? You slapping limits on any other fucker around here or just on me?”

  Jethro never tolerated this kind of outburst, and tonight was no different. “You’d do well not to test me, King. Not after all the shit I’ve had to deal with over the last few months while you’ve been drinking yourself almost to death. I’ve let it go because you’re dealing with your mother’s death, but that was three months ago. It’s time to get yourself straightened out.”

  “What shit are we talking about, Jethro? I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I’ve cleaned up a fuckload of messes for you and taken care of anyone you needed taking care of.”

  “The problem is that you’ve taken care of them a little too well. Your bloodbath across Sydney is starting to bite the club in the ass. We’ve got too much heat on us. You need to tone that shit down, brother.”

  “That bloodbath was at your request, brother.”

  His mouth pulled into a flat line. “If I say to tone it down, tone it the fuck down.”

  The tension between us crackled through the office. I’d had just enough to drink that I was willing to tell him to fuck off, but I hadn’t had enough that I forgot my respect for him, so I backed down and nodded.

  His hard gaze didn’t ease. “We need to discuss Ivy.”

  “What about her?”

  He studied me for a moment, like he was assessing how to proceed with this conversation. His tense shoulders dropped and his gaze thawed. “It’s no secret that I have plans for you, King. I recognised your strengths the day I met you, and I’ve been training you up ever since. The things you’re capable of are things this club needs if it’s going to hold its own, so I’ve worked to draw them out in you.” He paused for a beat. “Those things are good for the club, but they’re not good for Ivy.”

  I crossed my arms. “What the fuck are you talking about, Jethro?”

  “I’ve been watching your relationship, and I’m concerned about what I’m seeing. Ivy used to turn up here happy to see you. You used to make all the time in the world for her. Sure, you two fought, but I never saw you lose your shit at her in a way that I feared for her safety. Something’s shifted between the two of you, King. She’s not happy, and you’re angry with her all the time. And to be fucking honest, I think you’ll go too far one day and hurt her.”

  My breathing slowed. His words rang with an honesty I didn’t want to admit. My mother’s death, and my subsequent quest to punish those I believed responsible had taken the kind of toll on my relationship with Ivy that I feared we couldn’t come back from. On top of that, we were raising Skylar together after Mum’s death. Between our work and family commitments, our anguish and my bitterness over Mum’s death, we were crumbling. These days, we didn’t fight so much as move through life disconnected from each other. I couldn’t recall the last time we’d even mentioned our engagement.

  The drunk driver who killed Margreet had disappeared, and I had been unable to track him down. Prevented from delivering the punishment he deserved, I’d fixated on the other person I blamed. Ivy’s mother. It was a fucked-up mess because as much as I wanted to destroy her for the part she played, my love for Ivy stopped me. And so we existed in a toxic bubble of resentment, hate, love, and an inability to reach the other. Physically, we came together, but our sex had disintegrated to irregular, violent encounters.

  Jethro was right.

  Even I was concerned I’d go too far with her one day.

  I blew out a long breath. “Fuck.” Eyeing the man I trusted the most in the world, I admitted something I never admitted to anyone, ever. “I don’t know what to do.”

  He watched me earnestly. “If you love Ivy, you’ll walk away from her. You’ll put her safety before everything else. The path you’re on is a dangerous one, brother. Don’t force her to deal with the repercussions of that.”

  I’d heard about Jethro’s old lady, but since she was dead, I hadn’t met her. The story went that they’d endured a violent marriage. I’d heard rumours he’d beaten her so badly one night that she’d ended up in a coma and died the next day. I had never been convinced the story was true, but listening to him now, I contemplated that maybe it was.

  A knock on the office door ended our conversation, but I couldn’t get his words out of my head for the rest of the night. By the time I arrived home three hours later, completely shitfaced after visiting a pub on the way, I was a wreck of confused thoughts and denial over the state of my relationship.

  I could never give Ivy up.

  She was mine, forever.

  Fuck, but what if Jethro was right?

  What if I did the unthinkable one day?

  “King? Is that you?” Ivy’s voice floated downstairs as I stumbled through the house knocking shit over as I went.

  “Fuck,” I muttered. “Yeah,” I called up to her. I vaguely recalled that Skylar was at a sleepover with a friend. Thank fuck, because my crashing and banging would have woken her, and she had enough trouble sleeping these days. Mum’s death had devastated her to the point it affected every part of her life but especially her sleep.

  When I didn’t hear from Ivy again, I figured she’d gone back to sleep. Probably hopeful that I’d leave her alone. But fuck if thinking about her all night hadn’t given me a hard-on that I desperately needed her to take care of. I hadn’t been inside my woman for a good two weeks, and I fucking needed her. Needed her touch.

  I staggered up the stairs, tugging my shirt over my head as I went. Dropping it on the floor of our bedroom as I entered, I then reached for my belt. Fuck, Ivy lay naked on the bed, with the sheets kicked off. Every inch of her beautiful body displayed to me. And that sweet cunt I would never get enough of calling to me.

  I moved faster, shedding my clothes, and climbing on top of her. She lay face down, and I spread her legs as I ran my hard dick along her pussy.

  “King,” she mumbled, sleepily. “Don’t.”

  My mind, fuzzy from too much alcohol, tried to keep up, but my need for her controlled me. I ground myself against her, groaning at how fucking good she felt. “I need you, Ivy.” I peppered kisses down her back. “I need this sweet fucking cunt.”

  She swat
ted me away. “Not tonight,” she mumbled again.

  Taking hold of her arms, I pressed them into the bed either side of her as I continued to grind against her. Jesus, I fucking needed inside her fast. “Yes, tonight. You haven’t fucking let me near you for two weeks. Tonight, you’re letting me fuck you.”

  “King!” She woke up and bucked under me. “Fucking stop it! I don’t want to have sex with you tonight.”

  I was so fucking tanked and screwed up over the state of our relationship and everything I’d discussed with Jethro that her refusal pissed me off. Pushing my body forcefully down onto hers and gripping her wrists hard, I demanded, “When the fuck do you think you might want to fuck me again, Ivy? This year? Next year? Fucking ever? I’m getting tired of this game.”

  She jerked under me and started a full-force battle to shift me off her. When I refused to budge, she bit my arm and screamed, “Get off me!”

  “Fucking hell!” I roared, letting her go. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

  She scrambled off the bed, staring at me angrily. “Why the fuck do you think? You wanna force yourself on me, you should expect me to fight back! Just FYI!”

  I moved off the bed and lurched towards her. “Don’t be fucking dramatic. I wasn’t fucking trying to force myself on you.”

  Her eyes widened. “Well, what the hell would you call it when a woman says no and her man doesn’t listen?” She screamed her question at me, almost out of breath because she was that worked up.

  I moved in close to her, backing her into the corner where she pressed herself against the wall like she was trying to escape me. “I’d fucking call it desperation. I’m so fucking hard for you, every fucking day, and every time I manage to get close to you, you shut me the fuck down.” My eyes bored into hers. “At some point, you need to give me what I want.”

  She glared back at me. “Or what, King? You’ll just take it?”

  I glared back at her, my blood pumping hard, my head pounding.

  Fuck.

  How the hell had we gotten here?

  How the fuck had I become this man?