Empire of Desire by Rina Kent

Fuck.

I don’t want her scared, terrified, or any of the negative emotions she’s written on her list.

But now this has happened, and in hindsight, I shouldn’t have touched her when King was around. Even if he was napping, because he’s a fucking hyena and if he’s suspecting something, he won’t sleep. He’ll be roaming and digging around like a fucking lunatic until he gets what he wants.

But I couldn’t stop it. And it’s not for lack of trying.

I gave her the space she demanded, even though I hated it, because it was the right thing to do. I wasn’t going to drag her into my mess or give her hope that doesn’t exist.

However, every day I spent without her was absolute fucking hell. Concentration? Zero. Sleep? Nonexistent.

And it’s not about her body or how perfect she feels in my arms. It’s the little fucking things, like how she sleeps with her face tucked in my neck or how we cooked together while she danced to her music.

It’s her light.

It’s her energy and cheerfulness. It’s the fucking meaning she gave to my life when I thought I didn’t need such a thing.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about that. About her presence, about that meaning I didn’t ask for but was there anyway, which opened wounds I thought were long healed.

So I had to kiss her.

I had to claim her for all the times I’ve wanted to kiss her since she stole that kiss on her eighteenth birthday.

That was the exact moment she stopped being my friend’s daughter and became her.

Gwyneth.

Just Gwyneth.

And now, said friend will kill me for it. Because he jumped after me in the water and the moment I resurface, he grabs me by the lapel of my jacket and punches me in the face.

My head snaps to the side from the force of it. Fuck. His punch is still as strong as when we were teens, if not harder. And here I thought he was recovering and didn’t have enough strength.

“Dad, stop!” Her shrieks from the side of the pool bring out the temper lurking inside me.

Yes, I was prepared for King’s reaction and wrath, but not in front of her. I don’t want her to see his ugly side—or mine.

Because this is heading straight in that direction.

“I’m going to fucking kill you! Your life will end today, you motherfucking asshole.” He enunciates every word with a punch to my face, my neck, my chest, everywhere.

I don’t stop him or punch back, not even when blood explodes in my lip or when my ribs sting with every breath I take.

“Dad, please!” She’s flat out crying now while perching on the edge of the pool.

“King, stop it,” I grind out. “Gwyneth is—”

He shuts me up with a punch to the mouth and it almost sends my teeth flying. Motherfucker.

“You don’t say her fucking name. That’s my daughter. My fucking daughter, Nate!! What type of fucking death wish did you have when you touched my fucking daughter?” Thwack! “Are all the other women not enough for you so you went after her?” Thwack! “Have you fantasized about her since she was a toddler? Were you touching her behind my fucking back?”

I raise my fist in a huge splatter of water and drive it straight into his face. I didn’t mean to punch him, but I do it because he’s saying shit he shouldn’t be saying. “I would never do that and you know it, but you’re being a fucking dick right now. She was never a woman to me until recently.”

“She’s not a woman. She’s my baby daughter, you motherfucker!” He grabs me by the hair and pushes my face into the water, then locks my legs with his to stop me from moving around.

He’s going to drown me.

The motherfucker is really intent on drowning me.

I grab his arms and push, trying to remove his hold on my head, but he has brute fucking strength that keeps me pinned in place. How can it be that this crazy asshole was in a coma and is still recovering?

The fucking idiot. If he kills me, he’ll go to jail and no one will be there for Gwyneth.

That’s when I hear her hysterical cries for her father to stop, but he’s too far gone to listen to her.

Or anyone—aside from the demons in his head.

My lungs burn and I swallow the chlorinated water in my attempts to get some air. My grip loosens from around his arms and black dots fill my vision.

Ah, fuck.

I thought he’d try to kill me. But not that he’d actually succeed.

Still, all I can think about is Gwyneth’s tear-streaked face and how she’ll probably lose both of us now.

Me to death.

King to jail.

Then she’ll be all alone again.

The pressure of King’s hand disappears from my head and I think I’m crossing over to the other side, but then soft palms grab me by the cheeks and lift me up from the water.

I gulp in a sharp intake of air and splutter water as I cough up everything that I swallowed. The scratch and burn in my throat don’t disappear, but none of that matters.

Not when Gwyneth is holding my face, wet strands of her wild hair sticking to her temples and tears streaming down her cheeks. “Nate? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

I can’t talk, and it’s not only because of the grogginess in my throat. How the fuck did she get in here? She doesn’t know how to swim.

I stare behind her and find that King has her by the waist to keep her afloat even when his face is tight and murderous, and he definitely still has plans to kill me.