King Novel novel Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

“Who did this?”

Enoch’s voice is low and guttural, barely above a growl, but it feels as though the words slice through the air and pierce me straight in the chest.

Fuck.

My mind blanks for a second before it kicks into panic mode. I jerk back, shoving his hand away from my thigh, which sit stings under the bandage. My laugh comes out shaky, unnatural, and it sound as if I’m auditioning for a comedy gig 1 have no hope of landing.

There is no comedy in Enoch’s face though. That’s the difference.

“Oh, that?” I wave my hand, swatting at a nonexistent fly, “It’s nothing, Old scars, you know? Battle wounds. Comes with the territory of being an omega and all.”

Enoch doesn’t blink. Not once. His piercing emerald eyes are locked on mine, unyielding, intense, and I swear I see his nostrils flare, trying to scent the truth.

“Anyway!” I blurt, spinning on my heel to grab the camera off the desk. My hands fumble as I’ve forgotten how to hold a simple object, and the weight of his silence behind me feels like a goddamn boulder. “Let’s talk about this beauty, huh? No flash this time, I promise.” I risk a glance over my shoulder. He hasn’t moved.

“Did you know it’s got ten different filters? Ten! And I got it for dirt cheap.” My voice rises as I barrel ahead, filling the suffocating quiet with every random fact about the camera I can think of. “Oh, and I got you this bookmark too. It’s leather. Fancy, right? You can use it with that book you’ve been obsessed with.”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of interest. His broad frame looms in the room like a goddamn immovable force, and the air between us grows thicker by the second.

Shit, think, Taryn. Think.

I huff and turn around fully, gripping the camera as my lifeline. “Enoch, seriously, you-”

Before I can finish, he’s moving. Towards me at that.

“What the hell!” I yelp as he lifts me off my feet in one fluid motion. Bridal style. As though we’re in some twisted fairytale, and I’m the clueless damsel who forgot to read the script.

“Enoch!” I hiss, squirming in his iron grip. His arms are unyielding, solid as stone, and I might as well be trying to wiggle out of a steel cage.

He doesn’t say a word. Not one. Just starts walking, his jaw set, his eyes focused straight ahead—he’s got a mission and nothing will stop him. Not even me.

“Put me down!” I slap his chest–not that it makes a difference. The man doesn’t even flinch.

We make it into the hallway, and that’s when the whispering starts.

“Is she showing him off again?”

“God, he’s hot, though.”

“Did you see the way she’s clinging to him?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. I bury my face in my hands, wishing I could teleport out of existence. Or at least out of this hallway.

1/4

Sat, 15 Mar

Chapter 22

“Enoch, seriously, this isn’t funny!” I snap, my voice muffled by my palms. “People are staring”

Still nothing. He keeps walking, his strides long and purposeful, until we pass by the head maid sitting in her usual spot.

My stomach twists when I see her. She’s polishing the leather whip as her prized possession, her beady eyes narrowing as she takes in the scene of me and my so–called ‘boyfriend‘, I feel her glare on me like a physical weight, and a sick sense of foreboding coils in my gut.

Fucking old lady.

But Enoch doesn’t stop. His gaze flicks to her once, briefly, before he keeps moving like she’s nothing more than a speck of dust in his way.

Of course, she’s already planning my next “disciplinary session.” I can see it in the way her lips curl into that sinister smirk.

By the time we reach the infirmary, I’m already bracing myself for more stares. We’re not even through the door when Kallias appears out of nowhere, blocking our path like some overgrown guard dog.

“What’s wrong with her?” Kallias asks, his eyes darting between me and Enoch. “Why is she going to the infirmary?”

“I’m fine,” I snap, glaring at him. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Kallias isn’t buying it though—adding to another knucklehead to convince. Ugh, why are men so difficult? Kallias‘ gaze sharpens, and he opens his mouth to push further, but Enoch doesn’t give him the chance.

Without a word, Enoch steps forward and shoulder–checks him–hard. Really hard.

Kallias stumbles back, his face contorting in disbelief. “What the fuck, man?”

“Enoch!” I hiss, panic lacing my voice. “Are you trying to get us both killed?”

Enoch keeps walking, completely unfazed, while Kallias glares after us, his jaw ticking with barely concealed fury.

And just like that, I know I’m in deep, deep trouble.

***

The infirmary is quiet except for the faint ticking of a clock that seems louder than it has any right to be. I really did not need to be here.

Enoch places me on the examination bed—I’m made of glass, but the sheer tension radiating off him makes me feel as if I’ve been dumped into a lion’s den. His arms linger at my sides, his jaw ticking, his gaze locked on mine, daring me to protest. Oh I will fucking protest, alright.

“Enoch, I’m fine,” I say, my voice wobbling slightly.

He doesn’t budge. Of course, he doesn’t.

“Can you give us a minute, please?” Dr. Lisa’s bored tone cuts through the air as she swivels on her stool to face us. Her lab coat is crumpled, her glasses slightly crooked. Classic Dr. Lisa–over it before the conversation even starts.

Enoch narrows his eyes at her, clearly not thrilled about being dismissed, but he finally steps back.

Lisa sighs, grabbing a clipboard. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with this time, shall we?”

I wince as she lifts my skirt slightly to inspect the back of my leg. Her pen clatters to the floor.

Her usual boredom vanishes, replaced by wide–eyed shock with her jaw dropping. This is definitely a bit of an exaggerat over some scars. “Oh my Goddess, Taryn.”

2/4

Sat, 15 Mar

Chapter 22

Her words are sharp enough to make Enoch straighten before he could even leave, his eyes narrows dangerously as he steps closer to the bed where I’m in.

Lisa’s fingers trace over the edges of the wounds, her lips pressed into a thin line. “These aren’t fresh, but they’re not healing properly. If your woll can’t keep up with them, it means-”

“It means they keep happening.” Enoch growls, low and guttural.

Lisa flinches at the sound, and I reach out, grabbing his wrist to stop him from looming over her like some overprotective guard dog. “Enoch, wait outside,” I say firmly.

His eyes snap to mine, darkening with something primal. “Why?”

“Because I don’t trust you not to lose your shit and murder someone,” I snap, giving him my best glare.

Lisa nods, clearly cager to back me up. “She’s right. You should wait outside.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to argue. His chest rises and falls heavily, his nostrils flaring, but then he points to my leg. “Pain?”

I falter. The question is so simple, yet it feels as if he’s reaching into my soul and pulling out every hidden truth I’ve been trying to bury. I really don’t want to talk about it.

“I’m fine,” I lie, forcing a smile.

He doesn’t believe me. His eyes drop to my leg again, and then he turns to Lisa.

“What?” His voice is sharp, clipped almost.

Lisa adjusts her glasses, her expression grim as he turns back to my leg. “Whip burns,” she says quietly. “These are definitely whip burns.”

Enoch repeats the word under his breath, laced with something dark and dangerous. “Whips.”

His jaw clenches, and I know I’ve lost him.

“Enoch,” I say softly, but he’s already walking out, his shoulders tense, his hands curling into fists at his sides I almost spot his kunckles turning white until he disappeared out the hallways.

The door slams shut behind him.

Lisa exhales shakily, pulling her stool closer to the bed. “Taryn,” she says, her voice softer now, “what’s really going on?”