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Touch Me, King Kane

Emory

The question lingers in the air between us as I stare into King Kane’s eyes, trying to figure out why he’s followed me to my bedroom. It doesn’t make any sense. Isn’t he expected to still be at dinner with the rest of his guests?

If anyone from dinner were to follow me, I would’ve assumed it would have been Rainer. But it’s not his blue eyes I’m staring into as the king leans against my door jamb.

He clears his throat, a moment of hesitation that is out of character for him. “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says.

“Oh.” I take a deep breath and step back once, almost tripping over my discarded shoes. I catch myself, seeing an eyebrow arch in concern. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” He doesn’t come into my room, and I’m assuming that’s probably because I haven’t invited him in. But he is leaning further in than he was before. “Opal can be such a… bitch.”

I want to agree with him, and I also want to demand to know why he never mentioned to me that he had a fiancée. I found out
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