KING OF ME (THE KING TRILOGY Book 3) Read online

  I won’t fall for him. I just…I sighed. He was magnetic, that was the best way to describe him.

  Unable to resist the numbing oasis of sleep, I closed my eyes and tried to think of something else. An image of a perfect future popped into my mind: everyone gathered at my parents’ Victorian home on Knob Hill in San Francisco. Justin and his girlfriend, Jamie, holding their beautiful baby while sitting on that floral, overstuffed couch in the living room. Becca and her mother squabbling over some random fact about an actor they both loved. “No, he’s dating that model,” one would say. “No. They broke up,” the other would respond. Then there would be my parents sneaking kisses in the kitchen while they prepared the finishing touches on the meal. Me, well, I was there, too. Somewhere. Although, I couldn’t see any details. Maybe because I was still in ancient Minoa, beginning to wonder if I ever wanted to leave.

  Could I do that to my poor parents? Because their losing a daughter would be just as bad as losing my brother. And losing us both? I shuddered. I couldn’t begin to imagine the grief.

  Nevertheless, even if I wanted to go home, it might not happen. So then what? What would become of my parents?

  Jesus, we’re all so screwed.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I didn’t know the hour, but when my eyes opened, it was because my subconscious had been poking my conscious mind in a petulant, little sister kind of way until I couldn’t ignore it.

  I sat up in King’s bed. All but one oil lamp had burnt out, enough to spot King’s well-constructed frame sitting on a chair in the corner, his eyes intense and focused like an animal. All too reminiscent of the man I knew many years from now, his posture—stiff with hands clasped and elbows resting on his knees—meant he was deep in thought and not at all happy.

  “You’re back,” I said.

  King continued staring with a dark gaze, irate and feral. That was another familiar King move. No, not a good one.

  My heart began to gallop inside my chest. “King?”

  “What?” he responded coldly.

  “Are you okay?”

  “What do you think, woman?”

  “No.”

  “Any manner I choose to examine the puzzle results in death.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” I said remorsefully.

  “I did not ask for your pity.”

  “I don’t pity you,” I said calmly, sitting up, “but my wagon is hitched to yours.”

  “What the Hades does that mean?”

  “My fate is heavily dependent on yours. And I want”—what do I want?—“you. I mean, you to live a happy, full life.”

  I looked away for a moment because the gaze of his sky blue eyes was too intense. They made my skin break out in erotic shivers and my body heat with need every single goddamned time.

  When I gathered the gumption to look at him again, he stood, crossed the room, stared for one uncomfortable moment, and then sat on the edge of the bed, facing me.

  “Have you put a spell on me?” he asked.

  “What? No. Why would you say that?”

  “I cannot think when I am near you,” he said sorely. “The moment I saw you, I felt an odd joining. As if you and I had lived several lifetimes together.”

  His words shocked me. Maybe because I felt the same way.

  “And last evening, when I dozed off under the stars,” he said quietly, “I saw you in my dreams, a look of pain in your eyes while you watched me drown in an ocean of red light. Each attempt I made to open my mouth only filled my throat with blood. I awoke tasting it on my tongue.” He looked down at my hand and began absentmindedly tracing a tiny circle over my skin. The sensation of his touch, the intimacy of it, instantly triggered a gnawing, heart- wrenching, carnal hunger. I found this real live version of him mesmerizing. I wanted more. More touching. More of his smell. More of his warmth. But I knew I shouldn’t.

  “The red is pain,” I said. “It’s your curse.” I knew this, because I’d seen his light with my gift. It was red—pain—and blue—sorrow—mixed so violently together that it turned into a deep purple. “And it’s a tragedy what happens to you.”

  “How is it possible that you fear me, but do not despise me?”

  “Because your curse isn’t who you are.” I realized that now. I couldn’t blame this man. I couldn’t hate him. And I couldn’t deny that I felt something profoundly emotional between us.

  How the hell that was possible, I didn’t know. But I couldn’t stop it.

  His gaze intense and fixed on my eyes, he leaned down and pressed his soft lips to mine. It didn’t feel like a kiss meant to lead anywhere. Instead, it felt more like a test or a validation, to see if what he felt was real, despite the improbability.

  It was.

  The sensation surged through my lips’ sensitive nerve endings, down my throat, and into my heart. It took my breath away.

  He pulled back and stared with those luminescent blue eyes. “I’m sorry for what I have done to you, Mia. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

  I hadn’t been expecting that. “It wasn’t you. I mean—it wasn’t your fault.”

  He tilted his head. “No. It was not. But you needed to hear that from me. I can see it in your eyes.”

  I teared up, but held back from crying. “Thank you.”

  King suddenly cleared his throat and threw a giant wall between us. “I have thought this through. All outcomes lead to a civil war and, therefore, a collapse of my people and the destruction of everything I have built. All except one.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I will be gone for several days and leave my guards to watch over you.”

  “Where are you going?” I blinked rapidly.

  His large chest puffed out with a deep breath. “Callias is on the other side of the island seeing to several disputes between the farmers. I will go and attempt to reason with him, give him a choice to discontinue his pursuit of Hagne—something I doubt he will do.”

  “Why do you think that?” I asked, because it was exactly what I had planned to do.

  “Callias is stubborn and wild. But I owe it to him to try. And I owe it to myself to die with a clear conscience.”

  Die? Clear conscience? “I don’t follow.”

  “You say that he challenges me for the throne.”

  I nodded.

  “And that he fights to keep Hagne.”

  I nodded.

  “Then to change our fates, I will fight him and allow him to win.”

  No. No. Fuck no. Their fights were not boxing matches; they fought to the death.

  “You can’t fucking do that!” I protested.

  He frowned with a smugness befitting a king. “I do not know this word ‘fuck,’ but I can do anything I damned well choose; I am king.” He stood and left, leaving me utterly speechless. This King wanted to give everything to save the people he loved. Even if it meant his demise.

  In that moment, my tears came hard, and my heart fell even harder. Yes, for him. He was that little piece of something strong, noble, and good hiding inside the monster I’d seen from the beginning. And the connection I felt, the deep-seated lust and inexplicable loyalty, had always been for him. This man. Which is why I couldn’t allow him to die.

  That’s when my earlier thought hit me again. Maybe, just maybe, I really was there to make everything right. But what options did I have?

  Hagne. She was my only option. I could either get her to see reason or kill her. That would almost certainly mean my death, too, because if Hagne’s family was powerful, they would demand justice.

  But if I died, then so be it. This alternative path would stop her from cursing King, and prevent my brother from digging up the Artifact in Palenque. It might even prevent him from ever getting mixed up with the 10 Club, if King in fact “owned those clowns.”

  I smiled to myself as the twisted little pieces slid effortlessly into place, and that gnawing uneasiness deep inside my gut lifted. This was right…

  ~~~
<
br />   As soon as the sun rose, I asked one of the guards—a shirtless behemoth with mocha-brown skin, long black hair, wearing a sword and a manly—yes, manly—little blue and red pleated skirt (not much different than a kilt but made for warm weather) if he could tell me where I might find Hagne.

  “I do not know, but I will send someone to look for her,” he replied.

  “Or point me in the right direction, and I’ll go find her.”

  He eyeballed me cautiously as if conflicted. “I am sorry, but our king has forbidden you to leave. You are to remain in his or your chamber, or in his private courtyard.”

  Of course. King would know not to trust me to follow his command and stay put.

  I looked at the guard and smiled. “Thanks. I’ll wait here, then.”

  He whistled for another guard before scurrying off promptly. In the meantime, I looked around the room for something sharp or blunt, unfazed by my new hard shell and utter lack of remorse or concern over wanting to end Hagne. If I couldn’t get her to see reason—a serious long shot—I would get her away from here, where the guards couldn’t intervene.

  I riffled through a few large woven baskets in a little cove that looked like King’s closet. There were piles of finely woven fabric—golds, blues, and reds—neatly folded and scented with dried flowers. In another basket, I found a jeweled dagger sheathed inside a suede holster. I plucked my finger over the tip. It was sharp as hell.

  I lifted my dress and strapped the dagger to my thigh, hoping the pleats would conceal the bulky handle. I went outside to wait, and ten or so minutes later, Hagne appeared in the courtyard, her face flushed as if she’d run the entire way.

  “Mia, are you all right?” she panted with false concern.

  “Hunky-dory.”

  “I know not what that means, but the guards said it was urgent.”

  “I told the king he has to let you be with Callias.”

  “What did he say?” she half gasped.

  “He wasn’t upset. In fact, he fully understands. He really isn’t a bad guy, Hagne.”

  Bitterness flickered in her spiteful eyes, and I knew what she was thinking: she’d said several times in her journal how she despised the king for being so weak. And right now, I’d bet she was congratulating herself for being right. Because only a weak man would roll over and give his betrothed to his brother.

  “How did you convince him?” she asked.

  “I offered to take your place,” I lied.

  Her face was bright red with anger, but she said nothing.

  “I didn’t tell you this, Hagne, but I am his betrothed in the future. Your marriage to him ends in a tragedy for everyone, including him. My proposal was simple: he lets you be with Callias. You live, your family lives, and your baby lives.”

  “But I am not with child.”

  “You will be.”

  This was the point where any rational, decent human being would simply thank their lucky stars and feel happy that they’d been given a chance to get what they wanted. But not Hagne. Nope. She did exactly what any psycho-bitch would do.

  “He is casting me aside,” she whispered in disbelief. “Everyone will see me as his rubbish.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes. I really did. But this was too important. “You get out of marrying a man you despise and get to be with the one you’ve loved since childhood. Does it really matter what people think?”

  Pure unfiltered hatred sizzled in her brown eyes, and I knew that any shot at a peaceful resolution would be impossible. Shit. I have to kill her.

  But then, like a switch had flipped, her gaze fell into a neutral state. “No.” She bobbed her head frantically. “Of course, you are right. Callias is the love of my life. Nothing else matters.”

  Her words sounded as fake as she was, so I wasn’t at all tempted to let down my guard. The woman was dangerous, and I had to assume powerful. Hell, her spit gave me the ability to speak ancient Minoan.

  “So you will marry the king instead?” she asked.

  Not that he’d asked, but part of me really wanted to make him mine forever. The man was seduction, power, and sexiness wrapped up in a manly, ancient Minoan package that left no woman unaffected in this time or in the future. Truth be told, however, there were structural issues with my situation. Such as…I was going to kill Hagne, and King would likely have to execute me, among just a few.

  I replied, “You focus on Callias.”

  She lowered her head with the grace of a lady. “As you wish.”

  So damned fake. “And now, I have a favor to ask,” I said.

  “Yes?”

  Let your guard down so I can kill you. “I’d like to go to the market and look for a few items for when the king returns. Can you get me out of here? The guards won’t let me leave.”

  She grinned. “I can take care of them. It’s the least I can do. After all, you have saved me.” She held up her small hand. “Wait here. I shall return.”

  Hagne disappeared for several minutes and then returned, waving for me to follow her down the stairs that led to the right of the building.

  “This way,” she whispered, giggling like a girl.

  Psycho.

  She added, “There is a secret tunnel leading beneath the palace and to the hill just north of the market.”

  This was perfect. I could follow behind her and then…

  Be strong? Save King? Save your brother, too?

  Yes. I could do that. I just had to remember who Hagne really was.

  I followed along, and when we did, in fact, reach a small cave, about five feet tall and four feet wide, she stopped. “It is dark inside, but the tunnel goes for several passes to the right and then you will see the light. Simply follow me.”

  I didn’t trust Hagne, but when I looked inside, there really wasn’t anything there: a muddy floor, muddy walls, and a lot of darkness. And, hell, she was going first. And…hell, I had the dagger, which I was about to get out and use.

  She rushed inside, and I followed along for almost forty or so yards until all light faded away.

  “It’s really dark in here.” I began reaching for my dagger, trying to keep pace with her.

  “Yes, but fear not. Just a few more steps…”

  In that instant, she grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. I whipped forward and stumbled, but instead of falling onto firm ground, I kept on falling. Down, down, down, screaming every inch of the way until I landed with a splash.

  The water was ice cold and deep.

  I fought my way to the surface only to find that it offered little more than air. No light. No warmth. Just the faint snicker of Hagne’s voice off in the distance.

  “Psycho bitch! He’ll know it was you!” I screamed, but she was long gone. There was just me, the water, and the darkness now. “Who the fuck puts a well in the middle of a dark, goddamned fucking cave!” I yelled. “Really! Jesus H. fucking Christ. You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me!”

  Gah! But all the blasphemous cuss words in the world wouldn’t change what was. Me. At the bottom of a well in a goddamned cave.

  Treading water, I threw back my head and closed my eyes. The water was cold, but not hypothermia-chilling. I’d drown from exhaustion before anything else. Think, Mia. Think. But my heart raced at a million miles per second. Don’t panic. Panicked people die much faster.

  I began to hum “Yellow Submarine” by the Beatles—a nervous habit I’d picked up as a kid. To be clear, any Beatles song would generally do, but the aquatic theme felt appropriate.

  Ten verses later, my heart rate lowered and my mind began to sort through the options.

  There were none.

  I wasn’t about to develop super-Spidey abilities and scale the fifty-foot drop. And no one except for psycho-Seer knew where I was.

  I’m screwed.

  After an hour or so, I came to two conclusions: I would die here like a complete chump, but Hagne would still lose. King knew my secrets, and he would do everything in his power to alter his destiny
. But goddammit, why did he and I have to be the ones to die? We only wanted to make things right. King loved his people. I loved my family.

  And I love him…There was no use trying to deny it anymore. What was the point? I would be dead in a few hours, and there was no one left to impress or fool.

  Not even myself.

  Taking this journey had finally allowed me to reconcile the conflicting emotions I’d lived with these last few months. Yes, it was possible to simultaneously hate and want a person. Yes, I’d felt compassion and remorse for that man’s plight and suffering, even when I feared him. Yes, my life with him felt like a sick and twisted merry-go-round of epic proportions.

  Until now.

  Now I knew. King wasn’t one man; he was layers. Light surrounded by a thick layer of darkness. Life encased by death. Scar tissue over a soul that was noble and good.

  I felt a deep sense of relief and gratitude. I got to meet the real man. And he was beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined.

  So what now?

  I took a breath and swayed my arms from side to side as there wasn’t much else to do. I had no magical transportation or…

  Wait. Yes, I do. I had the damned bracelet. I could go back.

  But what if…what if I returned to that horror I’d left? That monster’s hands all over my body, my wrists burning as I tried to break free, the absolute nightmare of knowing I’d once again miscalculated King and his aptitude for cruelty.

  You have to choose.

  I still wore the bracelet on my right wrist; it might lead me home. But would I return to a scene of unspeakable violence, or find that King had changed all our fates and so return to a completely different future? And if different, would I lose those memories most precious to me? Surprisingly, those moments weren’t the big events—graduation, first kiss, or landing the dream job. They were the small breaths in between the noise: Justin crying in my arms when he was five with a split knee on the playground, the tears pouring from his little red face because he thought he’d die from the cut. It was the first moment in my life I remembered feeling that I mattered. I was this person’s big sister. I could make it all better with a simple hug and a few reassurances. I had wiped away his tears with the back of my hand and told him what he needed to hear. Within a few minutes, the bleeding stopped and Justin was swinging without a care in the world. Then he became a man, one with a heart bigger than anyone I’d ever met. I was his sister, his to protect and pick back up when she got knocked down.