KING OF ME (THE KING TRILOGY Book 3) Page 16

  The man is mad.

  ~~~

  Partially in shock, I went quietly with the two men, hoping that they might explain what the hell happened back there. To be clear, though, I had no intention of leaving for good. I wasn’t about to lose King again.

  Passing several men in cloaks and women wearing pristine white dresses, with elaborately braided hair, we made our way down the cobblestone street stacked with perfectly square whitewashed temples. The sun was just setting, filling the sky with ominous reds, and when I looked back over my shoulder, toward the massive structure we’d just come from—King’s home, I presumed—it glared back with empty dark doorways that reminded me of his eyes. The massive white pillars surrounding the palace looked like giant wicked teeth that wanted to chew me up and spit me out.

  “Who is he?” I wondered aloud.

  The blond man glanced at me, but kept quiet.

  “Do you not know who he is?” said the man with red hair.

  “No,” I answered. Of course, that wasn’t entirely true.

  “He is the most powerful man in all of Greece, appointed by the gods themselves.”

  Okay. King is a representative of the gods. Or at least that’s what they believed. Honestly, given what I knew about him, it would be an easy assumption for people to make. He was, after all, not exactly human.

  “Why is he sending you away?” the redhead asked.

  “I don’t know.” Not entirely true, either. King was mad, and he knew it. He wanted me to be as far away from him as possible.

  “Did he not tell you?” said the blond.

  I shook my head no.

  “Perhaps she is a thief, and he likes her,” said the other guy. “She is very pretty.”

  “I’m not a thief. But if I were, why would that matter?” I asked.

  “He would not send you away; he would have you executed.”

  “For stealing?” I asked.

  “You really have not heard of Draco, have you? He is not kind,” said the blond.

  “He is not meant to be,” argued the other. “He is meant to serve justice.”

  “He’s an executioner?” I asked.

  “He is the law.”

  Jesus. King was some Ancient Greek purveyor of justice. Damn. I could envision him really getting off on that. It would appeal to his domineering maleness in a big way. That said, I needed to help him, not go “far, far away.” I needed to break the…

  Fuck. That’s when I realized I’d traveled forward without the Artifact. No, no, no. I let out a heavy breath. Don’t panic, Mia. Think.

  All right. Maybe I could find a way to go back and retrieve it. But how? I didn’t know how I’d managed to leave Minoa in the first place.

  I hit rewind and recalled the moment I’d landed in that dark room. I’d been sitting next to the dying fire on the beach, thinking about King, wondering what had happened to turn him so violent that night on the island.

  Maybe that was the real reason I was here; this was another chance to change things. I need to go back and talk to King.

  “Wait,” I said to the two men. “I have to—”

  Blondie whipped out a dagger and pushed me forward. “Keep going.”

  I stopped walking to test if he really intended to use the knife or simply wanted to intimidate me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Blondie nodded at the other guy, who picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I fought, and people didn’t seem to care one bit as I yelled and clawed at his back.

  We made our way into a crowded square, where I was deposited in front of a large man with white hair who had a crowd of filthy-looking thugs gathered around. The moment the white-haired man saw me, he immediately stopped what he was doing. “Well, well. What have we here?”

  Blondie proudly said, “I want my debts wiped clean.”

  The man smiled and flashed a mouth full of rotting teeth. “Chain her up over there.”

  “Asshole. You’re selling me?” I couldn’t believe I had to go through this again. Only this time, I was being sold away from King.

  “Sorry,” said Blondie. “If our master does not want you, then I cannot let a good opportunity like this pass by.” He faced the man. “Make sure she gets sold elsewhere.”

  The man nodded, clearly understanding that I was stolen goods.

  “You were supposed to take me somewhere far away, somewhere safe,” I protested.

  “Trust me,” said Blondie. “You will be taken far. As for ‘safe,’ that will be up to you keeping your mouth shut.” Knife in hand, he pushed me up onto a cart with five other women and then shackled my wrist to a thick chain running along the side. I barely had enough room to sit. From the elevated vantage point, however, I truly registered where I was: in the midst of an ocean of slaves as far as the eye could see. Some in cages, some chained together in long lines. It was a time in history when humanity lacked the utter definition of the word.

  After nightfall, the caravan of horses and carts headed out of the city. I couldn’t see much on the dark road, but it felt like being on a movie set for Spartacus. Every man I saw was dirty, smelly, and armed, including the battalion of soldiers—some on horses, but most on foot—accompanying this particular shipment as we made our way inland. With every passing hour, the air grew colder, and I knew I needed to get the hell out of there before I became someone’s property.

  What a goddamned nightmare. I bet Justin, aka the history nut, would love being here, though.

  My mind hit a brick wall. Justin. With everything that had happened, I’d briefly forgotten about him and my parents. And now I realized that I’d done nothing to change the bleakness of their future. Nothing. All of the major pieces remained intact: King’s people ending in war because of Hagne, King becoming cursed, the Artifact…

  I wanted to scream. It felt like no matter what any of us did, fate was determined to see things play out in a certain way.

  I don’t care. I still have to try. As long as I still breathed, I would not give up. Not on my family. Not on King. As soon as the caravan stopped, I would break free and make my way back to him. I needed to make sure he knew about the Artifact, that there was a way to break his curse.

  It felt like six hours had passed before the caravan halted to allow the men to rest. They built small fires and brought out what I assumed was their wine. They didn’t offer any of us “chattels” water or food, and needless to say, there were no bathrooms. That meant when you had to go, you went over the side of the cart if you could manage it. The conditions were horrible, despicable, and beyond imaginable.

  I’d seriously had enough.

  “Hey!” I screamed at the group of six soldiers gathered around the fire closest to me. “Are you assholes seriously going to sit there? Give these people some water. Let us stretch our legs.”

  They didn’t bother to turn their heads in my direction.

  “Helloooo. I’m talking to you.” They continued eating and drinking.

  “You’re all a bunch of disgusting, immoral pigs. I just want you to know that. Seriously, I’ve met piles of horse shit with more attractive qualities. Although, I admit you all smell just as lovely. Haven’t you heard of a bath?”

  I heard the other women in the cart snicker under their breath.

  One of the men, a lean tall guy with brown hair and a long beard, stood slowly and approached. I expected him to tell me to shut the hell up, but that’s not what happened. He simply stood there and looked me over, his expression cool and calculating.

  “I need to stretch my legs,” I said.

  “You have an odd speech for a slave.”

  I realized just then that Hagne’s tattoo had been translating for me all along. These people spoke ancient Greek.

  I lifted my brows. “Whooptie-fucking-doo. I need to stretch. Unchain me.”

  He shook his head. “I am not a fool. You will run, and I cannot risk it. You are worth too much money.”

  “To whom?”

  His lustful eye
s washed over me. “Anyone with a cock.” He then adjusted himself.

  Afraid he might start getting some ideas of his own, I blurted out, “I don’t think Draco will appreciate my being taken against my will to become your whore.”

  “Draco? The Lawgiver?”

  I nodded. “I am his…” I didn’t know what, so I had to be creative. “I’m a friend.”

  The man crossed his arms. “Then how did you end up here?”

  “Two of his men took me to that market and sold me to pay off their debts. Trust me; Draco has no clue.”

  His eyes washed over me. “I think you are lying.”

  “Why would I lie when you can take me to him and find out the truth?”

  “Very well, if you are telling the truth…” He called for one of the other men, who came running. “Remove her from the cart.”

  “Are you letting me go?” I asked while the second man unchained me.

  “No. We are going to kill you.”

  What the hell? “I don’t understand.”

  “Draco may be appointed by the gods, but he is also cursed; if he has touched you, no one will allow you to serve in their homes, let alone want to bed you. You are worthless now.”

  In other words, I was King’s tainted sex-goods.

  The second man pulled me from the cart by the arm. With my legs half-asleep, I landed with a thump in the dirt.

  As he reached down to pick me up, I kicked him in the stomach, and he stumbled back. The first man dragged me by the arms to the fire. I was about half his size, so fighting was about as helpful as singing.

  I felt the cold blade of his knife against my throat, and instinctively, I screamed, “Wait! I’ll buy my own freedom.”

  They laughed. “With what?”

  “My bracelet. The one I’m wearing right here.” I held up my right arm, but was really thinking of a way out. Maybe another curse? Did I have it in me?

  “Cheap metal.” The leader nodded at the man who held me. “Kill her.”

  “The punishment for murdering a slave is death,” said a deep, dark, and familiar voice I knew like the sound of my own breath.

  The leader froze and then dropped to a groveling position in the dirt. “Sir, I meant no disrespect.”

  “Stand up, Mia.” I lifted my head and saw King’s magnificent, imposing frame standing in front of me, his hand extended.

  As I reached, those black eyes flickered to blue for a split second. I had to wonder if I’d imagined it.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, grateful as hell.

  King shook his head. “I don’t know. I felt a pull and then…” His eyes darted to the heads of the men who had their faces buried in the dirt. “We shall speak of this later. Right now, I must punish them.”

  I swallowed, wanting to ask what that meant, but before I uttered a word, King smiled and red light burst from his body. The men keeled over, one by one. I resisted screaming, but the other slaves did not.

  As more soldiers showed up to investigate, King merely continued gazing into my eyes, and I felt his torment. And his blinding power. Not one man made it within five feet of us before falling to his instant death.

  This is real, isn’t it? I’m not dreaming…

  Surrounded by a pile of bodies, he drew a deep breath and then gazed up at the starry sky. “No. You are not dreaming. Which is why you should run now, Mia.”

  He could hear my thoughts again.

  “Why should I run?”

  “Because after this moment, I will not be letting you go free, and I know not what I will do to you.”

  That was when I realized it didn’t matter what he was or what he said; I was not leaving him. I would rather spend a lifetime trying to fix what I’d done to King than let him suffer like this. It was an odd realization knowing that you can accept someone, the entire someone, and love them unconditionally. Curse and all. I couldn’t undo my love. I could only use it to do everything within my power to make things right.

  I cleared my throat. “I’ll take my chances, because I’d rather die here with you than live without you.”

  He looked back at me, and his eyes flickered again to a bright blue. “So be it.” King went to unchain each and every slave. At first I thought it to be an act of compassion, but he quickly set me straight. Slaves without an owner were granted their freedom by law. I got the impression, however, that being a free slave in these times was like being coated in bacon grease and sent into the lion’s den. Without money or an owner to protect them, they would be scavenged upon.

  “Where will they go?” I asked.

  “This is not my concern.”

  “Give them money,” I said. I needed to know that he—the good king—was still in there somewhere.

  “Why would I do that?” King asked.

  “So they can get the hell away from here.”

  “I think you mistake me for a man who cares, a man with a soul.”

  “No. I have no delusions about who and what you are.” But I hoped for a sign I could still save him.

  He laughed. “Yet you ask this of me?”

  I shrugged.

  “Very well.” King had grabbed one of the soldiers’ horses, a big black beast, and waited for me to mount. “I will send my men here tomorrow and take care of any who have not fled.”

  “That’s very kind.” And proof that the compassionate man I loved was still inside.

  King glared at me.

  “What did I say?”

  “I am not kind. Do not mistake my interest in you for such foolish emotions.” He laced his fingers together and held out his hands. “Get on.”

  I walked over and looked up at this fiercely muscular, dangerous-as-hell man, wondering what would happen next. “Am I going to wake up from this?”

  He frowned. “If you woke, where would you wish to be?”

  I had to think about it for a moment. “With you.”

  He studied me with a peculiar grin and then boosted me onto the horse. He mounted behind me and urged the horse forward.

  “You must have a death wish, woman,” he said.

  Probably, yes. “Mia. For heaven’s sake, call me Mia.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  After we started back toward Athens, I couldn’t help but lean back and savor the feel of the man behind me. Yes, King was dangerous and deadly, but in that moment, nestled in his strong, muscular arms, his warm chest against my back and his thighs squeezed around me, there wasn’t a safer place on earth. Not in a million years could I have guessed I’d feel this way about him. To be clear, this wasn’t my King. He was the worst possible version of the man I’d fallen for: a demon who looked like my King. But once again, I found myself questioning my true feelings. I thought about the time Vaughn had cornered me in a bathroom at a 10 Club party and tried to force himself on me. King’s brutality, his willingness to strike quickly and without mercy, had been a godsend. Then there were the multitude of occasions where I’d been losing my mind with grief or fear. It wasn’t the kind King who’d held me together, but the one without any real emotions.

  So. There it was, the ugly truth: I hated the evil King I’d run from, but I loved King for more than just his “good” side. His dangerous, callous side drew me, too. It was a mess of grays where nothing was perfect, nothing made one-hundred percent sense. But it was what it was, and no amount of thinking or rationalization would change it. I was his. And he was mine. Curse and all.

  Who could’ve imagined that?

  Or imagined we’d be riding on a dang horse in ancient Greece, and King wearing a man-frock. A huge departure from tailored suits and Mercedes.

  “What is a suit?” he asked, reading my thoughts.

  I grinned a little, feeling some strange comfort in the return of our strange mental bond.

  “Well?” he prodded.

  “Um…” I couldn’t possibly tell him what a suit looked like; I’d have to use words like “pants,” which would only lead to more explaining. “It’s hard to
describe—maybe I’ll draw one for you later—but you look damn hot in them.”

  “Why? Are they made of fur?”

  I tried not to laugh. I supposed they could be, but that would be kind of weird. “No. I meant, you look extremely attractive wearing one.”

  “Ah. I see. And this thing you call a Mercedes?”

  “It’s a car—sort of like a horseless cart. You look hot in that, too.”

  “Hmmm…I’ll try to remember that.”

  Strange. King seemed so relaxed. So in control. “King?”

  “Perhaps it is time you stop calling me that. Though I remain king to some, I am no longer a true king. My people have long since perished.”

  I was about to say how sorry I was, for them and him. Because he had been a good king and a good man. Instead I said, “Sorry. It’s a habit. That’s the name you use when we meet.”

  “I march around calling myself ‘King’? That is odd.” He paused. “Master, Your Grace, and Draco the Lawgiver, these are all names I understand.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. Well, you have—or had—some baggage about Hagne that might’ve had something to do with it.” From what I remember, King’s hang-up had been about Hagne refusing to recognize him as the true king, and about how she’d destroyed everything he loved. His name was a testament to his stubborn nature and absolute refusal to allow Hagne’s curse to break him. But that had all changed. Hadn’t it? Hagne hadn’t married King, Callias had not fallen in love—by will or by force—with her, and I ended up being the one to curse Draco because I couldn’t bear to let him go.

  “Yes, well,” he said, “that witch still managed to destroy everything. Did she not?”

  I gave it some thought. “Not everything.” Callias lived. I lived. And you’re still kicking.

  “Callias is dead,” King said bluntly.

  “Oh…I guess he is,” I said, feeling a sense of loss. Of course, a thousand or so years had passed, but to me, it was just yesterday that I’d seen him.

  “Do you know what happened to him?” I asked. “I mean—where he went?” I also wondered if he ever fell in love or had children. That would’ve been nice.