I dip down, getting in her face a bit and lay it all out.
Swear to God she wants to laugh but fights the shit out of the urge, and nods instead. “You want to know what kind of king I want to be? Fine, I’ll tell you, and then I’ll ruin you if you run around and tell another soul. I slide in, closing the gap she put between us and glare down at her. That I have no reason to answer, and then she takes another step away and I don’t like it, the distance. She withdraws, realizing she has no place to ask. “What kind of king do you want to be, Royce Brayshaw?” When I don’t open my mouth, her tone drops. “So, if that’s what me and everyone else assumes, like you said, then what do you mean by you want to be a king, but not the kind we are thinking?” “That I want or need to be the head, in charge or important, all eyes on me front line seen.” Everyone thinks it, no reason to keep my mouth shut about it, yeah? So I don’t. I glare, running my tongue along the backs of my teeth.
She nods, slipping in front of me, and waits for me to meet her eyes. Based on the persona I’ve created and created well. Things they’re led to believe at my own hand. “And what is it I’m thinking?” She shifts closer.
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