King for a Day (17 page)

I slowly approached, terrified by what he wanted to show me. I prayed it wasn’t one of his recent makeover victims. “Come on now, Miss Turner. I have a dinner party tonight. No time to lose.” He reached forward and yanked me by the hand.

When I reluctantly peered inside, the strength in my legs washed away.
Shit!
I braced myself against the door jamb.

King’s limp body lay on the small, twin-sized bed. His feet dangled over the edge, and one arm hung on the floor.

“You can see him, can’t you?” Vaughn asked.

I nodded yes. “What did you do to him?”

Vaughn let out an accomplished sigh. “That’s my little secret. But he’ll not be sneaking away for little visits anymore!” He snickered. “Oh, but not to worry. As promised, he will be wide awake to watch while I peel the flesh from your bones.” Vaughn made a strange little bow. “Sleep tight.”

He left me there with King, and I heard the iron gate close. I quickly peeked outside in the corridor to ensure Vaughn was truly gone before rushing back. “King? King,” I whispered. “Wake up.” I shook him by the shoulders, but he wasn’t moving. I put my ear to his mouth, and there was no breath either.

I was about to freak the hell out when I realized that the man I was seeing was already dead.

I stared closely at the fine details of his handsome, peaceful face—light-olive skin, sultry lips, his straight nose and thick black growth of stubble. I cautiously reached out and ran my fingertips over his eyebrow. Its texture was fine and silky. Then I glided my hand over his cheekbone, down his neck, and to his exposed collarbone that showed through his partially unbuttoned dress shirt.

Jesus, what did Vaughn do to you?
King’s elaborate collar tattoo was gone. I pushed open the shirt a little wider to inspect for marks. The skin was in perfect condition as was the rest of his beautiful body. He was warm and firm to the touch. Not cold or clammy. Not transparent or permeable like I’d seen ghosts in movies. King was real and solid and felt very much alive.

He’s still a ghost.

I began to cry. “God, King, why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

But if he had told me that he was the spirit of a cursed king roaming the earth, searching for salvation from his personal hell, would I have believed him? Actually, given everything I’d seen the man do? Yeah. I think I would have. Would I have run like he’d asked? Even if he’d confessed to killing Seers? No. I’d already thought that through on the plane. I would have ended up in this very spot, and maybe King knew that. He seemed to know a lot of things.

I lowered myself to sit beside the bed, on the cold cement floor, and tried desperately to ignore the violent reds that stained every inch of every surface. Vaughn had hurt a lot of people down here in his “special” rooms, the sick, sick bastard.

Instead, I focused on King, thinking through our every encounter. How had I missed it? The way the man seemed to climb out of the shadows and into my head; the way he mesmerized me with his presence. He was anything but a man, yet all I saw was a handsome billionaire in a nice suit, with a jet and some serious personality quirks.

I laughed quietly to myself, remembering what King had told me once: “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miss Turner, but there are only two types of people in this world: living or dead. I’m afraid there isn’t much in between.”

I guess he was the “not much in between.” Mack even mentioned that some part of me knew what King was, but that I hadn’t wanted to accept it. He’d been right. It was why my head always ached.

I sighed. So this was it. I was going to die. Here. With Draco the cursed king from some Greek island. The king who’d had his heart decimated by a psycho bitch that decided destroying him for one lifetime wasn’t enough. All because she saw him as weak for being kind to his people. “I think you fucked with the wrong king, Hagne.”
And thank you psycho-Seer for fucking up my life, too.

Damn. I almost hoped King succeeded in resurrecting her just so he could remove her head all over again and I could watch. What a complete bitch.

~~

“Miss Turner, so nice of you to join me.” King’s deep, sultry voice penetrated my ears and shot tiny tingles over my aching, tired body.

“Not now, King. I need to sleep.” I moaned and pushed his hand from my cheek.

“I think there will be time for sleep later. Perhaps an eternity of sleep if you do not wake,” he said.

“No. I want to stay in bed,” I whined.

“You do realize that you are in Vaughn’s basement, yes? And that he intends to kill you in twenty-four hours in a very violent, unsavory, public execution broadcast over closed-circuit television.”

Huh?
I lifted my head that had been resting on the edge of the bed while the rest of me sat hunched over on the cold floor. King sat on the bed, his arms crossed, leaning back against the wall.

I blinked and stared into those pale gray eyes. “King?”

He lifted a brow. “Yes?”

“Am I dreaming?”

“No. Shall I pinch you?”

I nodded my head.

He reached down and pinched my arm.

“Ouch!” I yelped. “That really hurt.”

He smiled, and those little dents on both cheeks made an appearance. He was so beautiful, even now, after I knew so many horrible things about him.

I slowly rubbed my face and groaned.

“The water in the sink comes out hot if you’d like to wash your face.”

“Thanks.” I slowly rose to my feet, noticing my head felt light and clear for the first time in weeks. “That’s funny,” I said. “My headache is gone.”

“Well,” he flicked his hand, “you finally know all of my secrets and have accepted the truth.”

“All of them? Doubtful.” I hobbled over to the sink and splashed warm water on my face to rinse away the dried tears. I’m sure I looked like a complete disaster, but I wasn’t about to primp and try to look pretty for Vaughn.

I used the bottom of my navy blue sweater to dry my face while thinking about what I wanted to say. I had so many questions, but I suppose, what I really wanted to know was…

“No,” King said abruptly. “I would never have killed you to save my own skin.”

I turned and stared into those beautiful eyes. “You can hear what I’m thinking?”

He shrugged.

Well, that’s embarrassing
. And it explained why he always knew my thoughts. “Then you know that I don’t believe you.”

He nodded. “I know. However, I will counter with pointing out how I could have killed you at any moment had that been my intention.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He tilted his head. “I have my reasons.”

“Such as?”
Revenge? Because if you end your curse before you bring her back, you won’t get it, will you? You’ll disappear the moment your curse is lifted.

“Not revenge,” he replied to my thought.

“Then?”

He quirked a brow and flashed a grin. “All in good time, Miss Turner. All in good time.”

“Time,” I hissed.
I think he just likes playing with me.

“I cannot deny I derive a great deal of pleasure from
playing
with you.”

Stop that. Get the hell out of my head.

“But it’s such a lovely place,” he argued. “As are your dreams.”

Oh Lord
. “So, all those times it was you visiting me when I slept?”

He flashed one of those wolfish smiles that always put me on edge. “While I enjoyed each and every one of them immensely, those were all you. I simply got to watch the show.”

“Oh.”
Now I’m really embarrassed.

“I believe arousing is the proper word,” he said, answering my thoughts.

“Please stop.” I held out my hand and winced. “I’d like to
not
have my final hours on this planet sharing them with the man who used, manipulated, and planned to kill me.”

“I thought we already covered that point. Murdering you was never part of my plan.”

“And I’m supposed to just,” I threw up my hands and leaned against the bare black wall opposite him, “trust you? Maybe you should let me inside your head.”

“I do not believe you’d enjoy it there.”

“Why not, King? Or should I call you Draco?”

“I have not gone by that name in a very, very long time.”

“Exactly how long?” I asked.

“Longer than you could possibly imagine, but that’s not important right now.”

I waited for him to tell me what was.

“I cannot allow this to happen,” he said.

“You mean, Vaughn’s sick little plan?”

“Yes. Because you are mine, Mia. And I mean it.”

He was starting with this again? Didn’t he see how moot this ownership thing was? “And, your point?”

“I will not allow him to end your life in such a cruel and violent way.”

Does that mean he has a plan?

He nodded yes. “That is correct.”

“Stop listening!” I barked.

“I cannot help hearing you, Mia.” His eyes flashed to the tattoo on my wrist.

Deep breath of patience…
“So what’s your plan?”

He stood and walked over to me. “I want you to know,” he said with that deep, unwavering tone, “that I would never hurt you. Not to save myself.”

I didn’t like the sound of that last part. It insinuated there might be an exception to that rule.

“But I cannot allow Vaughn to perform the vile acts he plans for you. I cannot.” He rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip and studied my face for several long moments. A flicker of purple light danced in his eyes. “You deserve so much better than this, Mia.”

“Meaning?” My back still to the wall, I edged away, feeling uneasy.

He dropped his hands. “Do not be afraid, Mia.”

“A-a-afraid of what?”

“I am going to end your life before he has the chance.”

CHAPTER
TWELVE

The moment King said those words, I bolted to the room where Vaughn had originally placed me. I slammed the door shut, but there was no lock on my side, so I resorted to using my back to keep it shut.

King wanted to murder me.
Of course. I’m the last Seer. I die, and all of his problems are solved.

“No, Mia. You are wrong,” said King’s deep voice through the door.

“Get out of my head!”

“Mia, you need to trust me. You need to know that there is absolutely no other choice. And if you allow me to explain—”

“Fuck you, King.” I felt so hurt, but what should I have expected from him?

“As much as I would like that, I’m afraid that doing so in front of an audience is not my style.”

My eyes flickered to the 360-camera mounted to the ceiling in a small cage. Was Vaughn watching us now?
Can he see and hear us?

“He can only see and hear you. As for me, I am visible only if I will it. However, he has stripped away all of my powers and created a barrier of some sort to keep me trapped inside the confines of this basement. Please, Mia, open the door.”

“Whatever you have to say, you can say through the door.”

I heard him sigh. “All right, but you’re being childish.”

Says the man who wants to kill me.

“Yes. Says the man. He is also going to tell you not to speak, but to listen. I can hear your thoughts. Vaughn cannot hear me speak. This provides us with one small advantage: privacy.”

So, you want me to talk to you like this?

“Yes. Very good.”

I can’t wait to hear what you have to say, evil bastard.

“Miss Turner—”

Oops. Sorry. Your Royal Evil Bastard?

“Mia. Enough.”

Or what? You’ll kill me?

King made a loud sigh. “I’m coming inside.”

“No!” I pressed my back firmly to the door. “Don’t come near me.”

“Mia.” King appeared right in front of me, his hands extended.

I yelped and then reached to open the door, realizing how futile that move might be; there was nowhere to run.

King slammed the door before I had a chance to crack it open. “Stop!” He grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed me to the door.

My eyes stared at his hands. “How do you do that?”

“Touch you?”

I nodded. “And the door.”

“I am very old and have learned how to manifest myself in brief intervals if I focus. As for you…” He grabbed my wrist and placed his palm over his mark. My skin tingled, and a pleasant wave of peacefulness washed over me. “The tattoo connects us. It allows you to see and feel me even during the dark hours.”

Dark hours?

“My sundial gives—or gave—me two hours each day to walk in the world of the living with little effort.”

How is that possible? Oh, wait
. I held out my hand.
Don’t tell me. You don’t ask how.