King for a Day (13 page)

“Happiness to see me. It only lasts but a moment.”

“These are some weird conversations I’m making up.” I paused. “Are you sure it’s not really you?”

“What do you think?”

“Mack thinks it’s possible. So…I guess it’s possible.” However, made-up King knew things only I knew. Like what I had been thinking about when I’d left Miranda’s home.

“If I was not a product of your Seer imagination, would it make a difference?”

I thought about it for a moment. “No, it wouldn’t. But I would be asking you where the hell you are.”

“Telling might only encourage you, Mack, and Arno to come looking for me. Something I’m not in support of.”

Wait. Is he…is he…?

I stood up, feeling my face turn red hot. “Oh my God. I’m not making you up, am I? Holy shit. You’re real. You have been all along!”

He flashed that charming smile and shrugged. “Perhaps I took it a bit too far, but I have my reaso—”

“Bastard!” I lunged for him.

I reached for his neck with both hands and landed in his lap, straddling him. He caught both of my wrists and held them tightly in his iron grip. Amusement sparkled in his light gray eyes.

“You think this is funny?” I growled. Meanwhile somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I still questioned if I’d made him up or if I was just too naïve and trusting to see the truth. Had he really been toying with me all along?

“I assure you,” he said, still holding on to that wicked little smile, “that I take all of this quite seriously.”

I stared into those eyes, looking for some sort of proof that King was real. However, the moment I saw the beautiful lines of his cheekbones, the straight black brows, the square jaw and seductive lips, I became mesmerized. Was this another dream? Because the heat radiating from his lap as I straddled him certainly felt real to my body.

King loosened his grip on my wrists and studied my lips with voracious eyes.

I loved it when he looked at me like that. It made me feel powerful knowing he struggled with his own desires.

My hands traveled to his hard chest, and I felt myself slipping away again, crossing that line where my mind became drunk and saturated with lust. I craved him in a horrible, wrong sort of way.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, closing my eyes to savor the rush of dancing with fire.

He opened his mouth and submitted to me, allowing me to explore, lick, and seduce him with my tongue.

Lord. Why does he make me feel so crazy?
I ran my hands through his soft, thick hair and pressed my chest to his, wishing that the clothing between us would disappear. Especially the clothing that covered his eager erection now pushing between my legs.

I let out a little moan, triggering King to pull back, a look of wild hunger reflecting in his gray eyes.

Without saying a word, he slowly moved his large hands to my hips. He began to rock himself into me, grinding his erection into the apex between my legs. I slid my hands to his shoulders and started to move with him. His heat felt so good, so perfect.

I lowered my mouth to his once again and closed my eyes, wanting the ecstasy to never end. If this was or wasn’t him, it felt real, and it felt like what I needed.

When his hands glided up from my hips and cupped my breast through my sweater, it only deepened my need. I continued rocking myself over that hard bulge in his jeans, but that wasn’t enough. I needed to feel him inside me, filling me up, sliding in and out with that large cock I’d once held in my hands when we’d come
this
close to having sex in his office. It had been thick and long and perfect like the rest of him.

I reached for the button of his jeans and undid the first one.

King quickly grabbed hold of my hand. “No.”

I stilled and then glanced into his piercing, seductive eyes.

“I meant what I said, Mia. You are mine. And that cannot be changed.”

“I don’t und—” I blinked and was hit with a wave of sharp pain in my head. I closed my eyes and groaned.

King placed his hands over each of my temples and pressed firmly. “Look at me, Miss Turner. See who you are allowing to touch you. Really see,” he growled.

I tried to look at whatever it was that he wanted me to see, but I saw only his colors. Reds and blues, pain and sorrow, swirled violently together to form a brilliant shade of purple. “Purple,” I groaned. “I just see purple.”

“No!” He threw me off, and I landed on my ass with a thump on the hardwood floor. “You didn’t read the book, did you?” He stood from the couch and seethed. “Did
you?
”

My arms braced behind me, I shook my head no. “I haven’t finished it.”

King’s beautiful face turned a vicious shade of red. “I had it translated for you. Word for fucking word. And you will fucking finish it, Miss Turner!” he screamed.

“Why? Why is the story so important to you? Just tell me what you want me to know.” Why did my head hurt so badly? Why did I feel so intoxicated around him?

“It will show you what to expect from me.”

My mind tried to pull the pieces together, but there were simply too many impossible answers popping up. “I don’t understand.”

He swooped down and pulled me up by the front of my sweater. Deep purple lights danced in his pupils. “Understand this, Miss Turner: You have now been warned.”

~~

King disappeared in the blink of an eye, and of course, I frantically scrambled to the book. My eyes searched for the answers he wanted me to find.

“Holy Christ.” I paused. Had that been real? Had King just been here? Or was I going mad? Because if he had been, then why wasn’t he trying to help us with the 10 Club issue? I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t intervene, risking a forfeit of all his possessions.

Whatever was happening, my trembling hands had already started the task of searching for the spot where I’d left off.

“Here.” I skimmed the words quickly as Hagne described the events of that day, the family fighting amongst each other, and the bloodshed that broke out as the men of the island took sides over who they thought should be their ruler. Hagne seemed to enjoy every bit of the chaos and death prior to the event.

But as the sword fight began, I and the five hundred others in the stadium held our breaths, watching the display of sheer power and bottomless ferocity. Both men, equal in size and speed, swung with the force of giants and the gracefulness of well-trained warriors. The awe I felt, however, rapidly disintegrated into despair when I took in Draco’s large arms and the muscles stacked upon his broad chest. He had been blessed with a swift elegance that Callias lacked, and it was then that my heart began to wonder if Callias might have chosen poorly. Why had he challenged his brother to a fight when poison would have been a surer victory? But Callias had believed poison to be the tool of cowards. He refused to dishonor his brother or his family in such a way. Fool.

Or perhaps the fool was I to believe that Callias’s ferocity and determination would make him undefeatable. I had not anticipated that both brothers, equal in age but for a few minutes, would not have received the same training. Evidently, they had not. Draco’s comfort with a sword was superior, his confidence and control displayed with every step and swing. His pale gray eyes, so patient, waiting and watching Callias’s every move.

He will win
, I thought.
No, I pray to thee, gods, to let Callias be victorious.

When Draco swung hard and knocked Callias to his back, I stood and screamed. It was then that Draco looked at me and saw what I felt, not for him, but for the man in the dirt, his twin brother. Callias rolled away and rebounded to his feet, sword ready. Draco stared at Callias and begged him to say that it was not true.

Callias, such a fool, told him that I was his as was the child in my belly. “As will be your throne and your head.”

Those words only provided fuel for Draco’s anger. He swung again, and this time he landed the blade in Callias’s neck. I screamed and rushed to Callias. But what could I do? There was so much blood. Blood everywhere. His headless body lay on the ground, twitching, while Draco called me a whore and condemned me to death in front of his family, my family, and our people. It was then that I told him I would prefer a thousand deaths than to spend one day with such a pathetic, disgusting, and weak man not fit to rule a pile of shit.

Draco scooped up the dirt, mixed with the blood of his brother’s neck, and forced it into my mouth while everyone watched. It was only because I carry a child that he did not execute me on the spot, but he promised that as soon as the child came, he would take it and—

“Miss Turner, there you are,” said a woman’s voice.

My head snapped up to the doorway of King’s chamber. It was Miranda wearing a leopard bodysuit, her bleached hair in a tight bun atop her head. Next to her stood her boy-toy Edward, who wore a hideous, bright-green jogging suit that had obviously been picked by his “owner.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. They weren’t due at King’s office for another forty minutes. And how the hell did she know about this place?

Shit. Try not to look surprised. Be calm.

“You’re early,” I said casually as I closed the book. “And you’re in the wrong place.”

“Well,” Miranda’s eyes scanned King’s chamber, “if you can barge into my home, then I can barge into yours.” She leisurely strolled toward the shelves as if she had all the time in the world, slow as mud.

“This isn’t my home; it’s King’s,” I pointed out.

She shrugged. “Not for much longer, I hear.”

Oh no. She knew about the deadline from the Club.

Don’t panic.

“You’re referring to the letter that Talia delivered yesterday?” I tried to sound amused.

She laughed. “What else?”

“I guess you saw her, and she told you all about it. Perhaps she also told you how to find this place?”

She shrugged happily and ran her fingers over the books on the shelf. “Hmmm…So many interesting things here. It would be a shame to see them fall into the wrong person’s hands.”

“King isn’t about to give up his possessions, and you, of all people, should know not to trust Talia.”

Miranda squinted with her thickly caked lashes. “You’re an idiot if you think anyone trusts anyone. And you’re a bigger idiot for trusting me.”

Crap.
King was right. She was going to double-cross me. “You think I don’t know you’re not worth trusting? That you wouldn’t come through on your end of the deal?” Okay, I’d hoped she would, but now I needed to buy time and think of what I would do next.

“Huh! I never welch. Never.”

I stood from the armchair and set down the book, wondering what the hell sort of curve ball she was about to throw my way.

Miranda snapped her fingers, and in walked Vaughn.

Oh shit.

He had one arm—yes,
that
arm—in a sling, tucked underneath his puke-green tweed blazer that matched his puke-green polyester pants. His straggly silver hair hung down in clumpy wisps around his ruddy face, and a snide smile occupied his thin lips.

As for me, there was no more hiding my emotions. I was shocked as hell and out of party tricks, so I simply braced for what was about to come.

“As you see, Miss Turner,” said Miranda, “I have delivered. There is Edward, all ready for you, and I’ve delivered that hand, as promised.” She pointed to Vaughn’s bandaged arm. “In fact, I’ve delivered two of them.” She grinned and flashed her artificially whitened teeth. “Your turn!”

I was still digesting the fact that Vaughn was standing right in front of me. With two arms, no less.

“Yes, Miss Turner, it is your turn.” Vaughn’s eyes sparkled with malicious elation. “Take my head. I dare you.”

I blew out a breath. This was bad. So, so bad. But what could I do? Throw myself at his feet and beg for mercy? Or say I was sorry? Uh-uh. My only option was to try to defend myself. I seemed to recall seeing a few sharp objects in the kitchen area.

“Okay. But let me get you something to numb the pain first.” I headed toward the kitchen.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, Miss Turner?” Vaughn asked.

I stilled and slowly turned to face them again. All three were smiling, clearly enjoying watching me squirm. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

“So,” I lifted my chin, “how did they manage to get that arm back on? All those stitches must’ve really hurt.”

Vaughn laughed, amused by it all. He knew he had me trapped. “Oh, no. I like pain. And so will you…Well, you’ll learn to live with it, anyway. At least for the few days I keep you alive while I skin you.”

My stomach turned, and bile crept up my throat. Where was King? Because if he’d been real, now was a really, really good time for him to show up.

Unsure of what else to say, I cleared my throat. “You don’t think that King will let you get away with this—taking his stuff, taking me?”

He looked at Miranda, and they both shrugged. “We are not going to take anything. The Club will.”