King for a Day, Page 6

  We stared at each other for a long moment, and I sincerely had to wonder why Mack would want to save me. Frankly, he barely knew me. “Why don’t you just run?”

  “Why don’t you? In fact, if I were in your shoes, especially now that you know what it’s going to take to stop the Club, I would be getting the hell out of here.”

  “I can’t abandon my family. And why does it sound like you’re trying to convince me to go? ”

  “I owe King a very great debt. Plus, I know he’d want me to protect you from all this.”

  “I thought King hated me.” Okay, “hate” was too strong a word, but he saw me as his disobedient pet.

  Mack smirked and shook his head. “I know if we’re lucky enough to survive, you plan to fight it, but King chose you, Mia. You. To be by his side for the rest of his life. He will never share you. Never trade you. He will never leave you. You’re his.”

  Mack’s words poked at the pit of my stomach. Flutters mixed with the knots. “You make it sound like he loves me. That this was all some romantic gesture on his part.”

  “Maybe for a man like King, it is.” He glanced at his watch. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to convince you to run?”

  I shook my head. “I appreciate your concern for me.”

  He appeared genuinely disappointed. “All right. I gotta go. I’ll be back in four hours. Can you look for the serum?”

  “Wait, why four hours?” That was a huge chunk of time, and it was already ten p.m.

  “Miranda lives in Los Angeles. And I know she won’t do deals over the phone. Most members won’t.”

  I suppose it made sense given that phones could be tapped.

  “What am I searching for?” I asked.

  “It’s a vial of blood that says ‘Cleopatra’ on it.”

  “As in…?”

  “Yes, the Queen of Egypt.”

  I lifted my brows. Best not to ask.

  “And the poisons?” I still couldn’t believe I was going to do this.

  Mack scratched his chin. “I’m not sure.”

  “I found King’s catalog; I’ll look through there.”

  Mack’s eyes glanced at the thick book on the coffee table. “Excellent. It’s our lucky day, then. Maybe you can find the magic-hand spell and a way to kill Vaughn?”

  I made a sour face, trying to hide the actual horror I felt over being in a situation worse than any nightmare I had ever imagined. “Sure.”

  Mack offered me a consoling smile. “Not too late to change your mind, Mia.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not throwing in the towel.”

  He took a deep breath, winced, and then barked out several curses. He sure as hell didn’t look okay to me, but he had no intention of staying put. “Well, I’m off to L.A. to find a hand.”

  So disgusting. “Good luck.”

  He nodded and disappeared down the stairs.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  11:15 P.M.

  After Mack left for L.A., I found myself standing in the middle of King’s chamber all alone with nothing but my thoughts. I knew I should be focusing on finding the serum, but my eyes kept gravitating toward the book I’d left sitting on the armchair. I couldn’t help but think it was what King really wanted me to find.

  And the ring.

  Again I glanced at the diamond on my finger. Okay. Obviously, it was no ordinary piece of jewelry. Rings didn’t simply hop on your finger like that. Hmmm. Actually, now that I thought it over, I was able to see King’s place after I’d put it on. Yeah, but so was Mack.

  Okay. I had no clue what the ring did. But what I knew for certain was that it was not intended as a romantic gesture. Didn’t matter what Mack said regarding King’s marking me as his “special someone,” because it made absolutely no sense. If I were King, able to select only one woman to give his weird 10 Club immunity to, I would pick someone who wanted me back.

  Okay, yes. Some tiny, dark part of my soul desired the man. He exuded an addictive, potent virility. His body was a tribute to all things wholly masculine and sensual, right down to his hard, round, beautiful ass. I’d seen it once along with his other unforgettable unmentionable during one of our “almost encounters.” But the part of me that desired him was not the sane part or the part in control. It was, however, the part I would fight tooth and nail to ignore. Even more so now that I understood King considered my entire body, even the private parts, his.

  “I’m not yours, King. And you shouldn’t have wasted your one precious brand on me.” My head immediately started to spin, and I doubled over, feeling like I might vomit. In the back of my head, I heard King screaming at me, telling me to open my eyes, to stop fighting with my old reality.

  I scrambled to the kitchen area and hovered over the sink, feeling like I’d be sick, but nothing came out. It was probably because I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. In fact, I hadn’t eaten much at all in the past month and a half. I’d lost fifteen pounds and was down to a seven, a first for me and a really sad way to get there.

  I opened King’s fridge and found only champagne. No food. No other beverages. Just really expensive-looking champagne, the same French bubbles, actually, that King had left in my hotel room the night he branded me in Palenque.

  Jerk.

  I’d thought he was being considerate, given I’d had an extremely horrific day—a little run-in with some violent Mexican officials at the airport—when in reality, the champagne was probably symbolic of what King intended to do to me that night: take ownership of my life without permission.

  I wandered over to his glass walk-in wine cellar and noticed it was full of champagne as well, a few hundred bottles.

  Okay. I guess he really likes bubbly. Which, given how he looked, wasn’t fair. As I mentioned, I’d seen this man naked, and his body was a work of chiseled art. Right down to his well-endowed penis. He even had this really elaborate tattoo, kind of like an Egyptian collar—a semi-circular pattern that covered his entire collarbone and a good portion of his well-defined chest. It was stunning. But how a man as beautiful as that got away with this as his diet? Total mystery to me.

  “Lucky bastard,” I mumbled.

  Then my head filled with sharp spears of pain. I hobbled over to his bed and lay down, burying my face in his pillow as I groaned. What was happening to me? It felt like something was trying to claw its way inside my skull.

  After a few minutes, the crippling ache dissipated, and I caught myself feeling soothed by King’s luscious scent. It was a smell like no other. I used to think it was some sort of expensive cologne, but now I wondered if it was his natural scent—sort of citrusy with a hint of spice.

  “Enjoying yourself, Miss Turner?” King’s voice radiated from directly in front of the huge bed.

  I dropped the pillow and scrambled to sit up. “Holy crap.”

  Wearing his usual sleek, expensive black suit, King looked down with those penetrating, pale gray eyes fringed with black lashes.

  Oh my God. I don’t believe it! “Where have you been?” I gasped, feeling frigging relieved out of my mind.

  He strolled over to the side of the bed where I sat. “Does that mean,” he said in a low, suggestive voice, “that you are happy to see me?”

  “You have no idea.” I was about to jump up and hug him. That’s how happy I was to see that evil, beautiful man—our problems were solved—but he swiftly bent down and placed his warm hand to the back of my head. He pulled me to his mouth, and all I could think of was how incredible it felt to kiss him. His soft lips moved against mine, and our tongues slid together in a seductive rhythm. His hot mouth was like a dark drug that made me crave more, crave everything. Even the dangerous rage that lived inside his soul, smoldering like a fire from hell. Oh God. Everything about this man—his touch, smell, and voice—mesmerized me, enticed me, and beckoned me to let go and enjoy all he could offer.

  King slowly pulled away and gazed into my eyes. “This is a dream, Mia. Another dream. Like the time you saw Brian.” />
  “Brian?” He was my brother’s roommate in Mexico. After Justin went missing, I went to their apartment, looking for answers, and found Brian. We’d had a long conversation, and later that night, I saw his body. He’d been dead for over a month. King said it had been a product of my mind, which had been trying to reconcile my old reality with my new Seer-reality. Somehow my mind took remnants of Brian’s soul and created a person as real as anyone. But he hadn’t been because, as King rightly pointed out, dead people didn’t talk.

  My eyes opened, and I felt my heart fill with terror. I began to bawl.

  “Why are you crying?” King asked.

  “Because if I’m seeing you, then you’re dead. Just like Brian.”

  “Ah, I see.” King smiled in that charming sort of way that meant he was hiding something. “It’s possible that I’m not dead and your mind is simply pulling imprints I’ve left behind. After all, this is my chamber.”

  I wiped my tears with my sleeve. Was he—I mean—was I saying that because I didn’t want to believe it was all over?

  King pulled me up from his bed so that our bodies pressed tightly together.

  He felt so real. So damned real.

  He smiled with affection, but his eyes twinkled with a spark of annoyance. “You must run, Mia. You mustn’t let Vaughn get you.”

  “Run?” I shook my head. “I don’t understand. Run where?” Why was I asking that? It’s not like a made-up version of King could tell me anything.

  “Anywhere away from here.”

  “I can’t, King. I can’t just leave my family. And I can’t…” I didn’t actually want to say the rest.

  “Yes?”

  I ran my hands over my hair. “If Vaughn has you, I can’t leave you there.” Okay, I said it. I cared, but I couldn’t help it. That was who I was.

  This time, King flashed a genuine smile that touched his eyes, and I felt instantly sucked in. He had such an effect on me, and I began to wonder if it was because of our bond.

  He returned his beautiful mouth to mine, kissing me with those sinful lips. His hot mouth worked at a sensual pace, and his thick stubble scratched at the delicate skin surrounding the edges of my lips. He feels so good, so real.

  My entire body melted into him, giving into whatever power he held over me.

  Slowly, he broke away and nuzzled his way to my ear. “I am not worth the sacrifice,” he whispered. “Read the book I’ve had translated for you. Then you’ll understand.”

  And just like that, King dissolved into a swirling cloud of purple light, leaving his taste on my lips.

  I spun around, searching the room with my eyes, holding my breath. “King?” But he was gone.

  Christ. Had that been real? Or had I made that up?

  I quickly gathered a wad of fabric from the front of my sweater and brought it to my nose and sniffed. Then I smelled my hands. King’s scent completely covered me.

  My eyes moved to the bed. Of course, you idiot. I’d been lying on his pillow and blankets. No, it couldn’t have been real.

  My stomach clenched into a knot so tight that I doubled over in agony. My face felt like it was on fire, ready to burst into flames. My head felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

  What was going on? An epic battle seemed to be brewing inside the confines of my skin and skull.

  I sat back on the bed and waited for the sensation to pass. Meanwhile, King’s words played in my head. Or were they my own words? I didn’t know, but he’d told me to run. Run to where? 10 Club would find me. Maybe they’d go after Justin and my parents, too. And even if they didn’t, if I suddenly disappeared, what would that do to my mother?

  I couldn’t not try to fix this.

  I scraped my shaking body from the bed and went over to the kitchen area to search the cupboards for anything non-alcoholic with sugar to drink.

  I found nothing except a collection of wine openers and a box of cigars.

  Cigars? I didn’t know King smoked, but I could definitely see him doing it. When it came to King, just about everything he did was old school.

  I looked at my watch. Holy hell. It was already past midnight, and an entire hour had gone by since Mack left. We had little more than eighteen hours to go, but I had to eat before I passed out.

  Christ, King. He could figure out a way to show up inside my head, have rooms that appeared out of thin air, and put live heads in jars, but he couldn’t figure out how to grocery shop.

  All right, I knew there were a few convenience stores-slash-gas stations down the street. I’m sure they’d have some energy drinks and nuts or something.

  I grabbed the book from King’s armchair, unwilling to risk losing it, and trudged my way down the stairs, through the bottom floor. When I yanked open the door to go outside, I saw Mack lying face down on the ground.

  “Mack!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  It is the night before my wedding to Draco, and I know tomorrow will be the worst day of my life. I will stand before our families and take our vows. From that moment forward, Draco will own me. But I hate the man. The way he stares fills me with disgust, and sometimes, I think I would rather die than let him touch my body as his wife. Why did he have to be born first instead of his brother? The other girls on our island say Draco is the most handsome and intelligent, the most kind and thoughtful of all the men in his family, but I think Draco is weak. He is so unlike his brother, Callias, who is truly a man, a man who takes what he wants instead of asking. I wish that he would take me. But that is not my fate. It matters not how many candles I light or how many times I ask the gods, they are determined to watch me suffer.

  However, by this time tomorrow Draco may own my body, but Callias will own my heart. I will think only of him when Draco comes to my bed in the night. And I will scratch his back when he bucks on top of me. I will imagine I am scratching out Draco’s eyes.

  I wish the man nothing but death and pain.

  Mack’s soft groan from the emergency room bed moved my attention away from the book in my hands. I leaned forward in my chair and brushed his blond hair from his forehead. I’d never noticed before, but he had a small scar over his right brow and one on his chin. He was a very handsome man that reminded me of those “all-American” types I saw in the Abercrombie perfume ads I’d worked on once.

  Ha. I chuckled to myself. How long had it been since I’d even thought of my old job? A little less than two months ago, advertising was my life. I specialized in global fragrance campaigns. But the days of Manolo heels and flights to New York, Paris, and Buenos Aires were long gone.

  Mack cracked open his sleepy blue eyes. “Why are you staring at me?”

  I smiled. “Hi, there. How are you feeling?”

  “Like shit.” His eyes began to move around the sterile hospital room. “You took me to the hospital? Fuck.” He struggled to get up, but I pushed him back down.

  “No, Mack. You can’t move. You have a concussion, three broken ribs, a fractured arm, and the doctor thinks you have a ruptured spleen.” I still couldn’t believe that the hundred-year-old twig did this to him. “He’s waiting for the test results.”

  “He can call me when he gets them. Help me up.”

  Damned stubborn man! What is he thinking? And I knew I never should have let him walk out of that warehouse. He hadn’t even made it to his damned car! He’d passed out cold on the sidewalk for over an hour before I found him.

  “I’m just thankful you weren’t flying when you blacked out.” Especially since he always flew alone.

  His eyes flickered with pain. “How many hours did we lose?”

  I looked down at my hands, already knowing the time because I’d been watching the clock like a hawk. “We have about sixteen hours left.”

  “Shit. We’ve lost too much time. Now you have to run, Mia.”

  “What? No. We’re not giving up.”

  Mack stared at me for a moment. “Of course, you’re right.” He moved to get up again.

  “Mack
, no. Didn’t you hear me? The doctor said you might be bleeding internally. There’s no way in hell you’re flying a plane. And before you ask, I already checked all of the commercial flights. Everything is booked to L.A. until two p.m.”

  “Then we’ve hit a wall,” he said.

  I blew out a breath. “I know,” I murmured, thinking. “I had a vision that King came to see me,” I blurted. “At least, I think it wasn’t real.”

  Mack simply stared.

  “Yeah, I know. It’s strange.”

  “What did he say?” Mack asked.

  “To run. And that he can’t be saved.”

  “Is that all he said?” Mack mumbled, squirming in his bed, trying to get comfortable.

  “You sound like you believe it might’ve actually been him.”

  “It’s King. Anything is possible. What else did he say?”

  “He asked me to read this.” I lifted the book.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a story about some horribly mean girl who has to marry a guy she doesn’t want. She’s a Seer, like me.” I shrugged. “That’s the only reason I can think of that he’d want me to read this—if he wanted me to read this.” I wasn’t sure what was real any longer.

  Mack looked at me blankly. “I don’t have a clue what that book means, but are you sure you want to keep going?”

  “Yes! Why do you keep asking me that?”

  He looked away for a moment. “I want you to have a chance before it’s too late. Look what happened to me.”

  “There’s nothing you can say, Mack. So drop it.”

  “Then pass me my phone,” he grumbled.

  “Sure.” I got up and dug through his bag of clothes. “Here you go.”

  He made a few taps.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Arno, so he can fly you to L.A.”

  “What?” I stood up. “You want me to go see Miranda?”

  “We still have sixteen hours, and if you’re not throwing in the towel, then this is what has to be done.”

  “I can’t look her in the face and commit to…” I leaned in; we were in a private room, but I didn’t want to risk anyone hearing what a horrible person I’d become, “killing her husband in exchange for that hand,” I whispered.