Mack (The King Trilogy #4) Page 3

  “So then why are you here?” I asked, probing for any possible insights into his mind. “Why not just run off and live in the mountains so you don’t risk hurting anyone?”

  “Because I’ve come here to die,” he stated coldly.

  All right. I had not been expecting that answer. Of course, logic would say there were a million other places to die.

  My conclusion?

  The man knew he was not well and wanted to live. He wanted help. There was simply no other reason for him to be here.

  As for me, the effect this man had—unlocking some corner of my mind that allowed me to feel intense emotion—had no explanation. But I needed to separate the two. Whatever was going on with me didn’t concern him.

  “Then I would like to help you break this curse, Mack,” I said to placate him. “I would like to help you live.”

  “I cannot be helped.”

  “I know you might feel that way, but I’m the only one truly qualified to make that determination.”

  He laughed. “You should leave now. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “I know you’ve come here because—”

  “Make no mistake, Dr. Valentine, I am here to die. In peace. And hopefully soon before they find me.”

  “They who?”

  He did not reply.

  I let out a breath, thinking this over. I needed him to start talking. I needed to see the world through his eyes so I could fix him.

  “In that case, you can stay for as long as you like,” I lied. Everyone had to leave eventually. “However, there’s a price.”

  “I already paid.” He sounded displeased, but not the sort of way a normal guy might. There was a bite of menace in his voice. I couldn’t let that get to me.

  “Not good enough. But I’ll make you a deal; if you tell me more about your curse, you can stay.”

  “Just as long as I chat with you,” he said, sounding amused.

  “Yes. I want to hear how it happened.”

  “You will not believe it.”

  “Thinking for me, are you?” I replied.

  He was silent, so I hoped that meant he was mulling over my proposal, but I wanted to see his face and know for sure. I reached for the lights.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned.

  I pulled back my hand, remembering what happened the last time. But that had all been in my head. Right?

  “Okay,” I said. “We’ll leave the lights off for the time being. Do we have a deal?”

  “It is your life. But are you so certain you’re willing to risk it for simply hearing my story?”

  Ah yes. Because he believed I would die if I spent time with him.

  “We’ll begin on Monday.” I turned to leave, attempting one last time to get a look at his face. A shadow, a hint, a something.

  Nada.

  “I look forward to it.” He dipped his head, and a sliver of light peeked through the curtains, catching the side of his face. The stubble-covered jaw was strong and angular. His cheekbones were chiseled works of man-art.

  My heart raced and my mind—without any warning—filled with hot, hard, simmering sensations that felt like an erotic drug. That, of course, was where I had to put my mental foot down. Chaotic situation or not, there were some lines that should never be crossed, like murder, hitting children, or kicking puppies. Having sexual feelings for a patient was also on that list somewhere.

  “I look forward to it, too, Mack.” I left, eager for the light outside that felt like my personal sanctuary, a place where I could breathe again. But as soon as I got into the hallway, the need to go back into that room and bathe myself in that delicious darkness called Mack overwhelmed me.

  For Christ’s sake, get a hold of yourself, Ted.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Once I got home and calmed my jittery nerves (with the aid of a greasy jalapeño cheeseburger and fries, due to still feeling like I had years of culinary deprivation to make up for), I thought the worst was over. With some comforting junk food in my belly, I would begin the process of dissecting the events and identifying the catalyst for my new mental state.

  But as I sat on my balcony, bundled in a warm purple sweater and scarf, my mind simply wouldn’t settle. I thought about calling Sue, one of my best friends (who hadn’t slept with my ex), but she was at some librarian convention in Minnesota. I tried Melody, my other best friend, also a non-backstabbing-whore to the best of my knowledge—but it went into her voicemail. I didn’t leave a message, of course. What could I possibly say? “Hi. It’s the new me. Crazy, hungry, and with real emotions versus the fake ones you’ve come to know and love over the years.” Best to tackle all that another day.

  I leaned back in my red Adirondack chair and felt the cold night wind picking up. I suddenly felt a dark heaviness in the air, like a cosmic storm brewing just for me. Was it a sign of things to come? Probably. I was already chomping at the bit to get back into that room again and listen to the sound of that hypnotically deep voice, feeling my toes clench and my pulse accelerate.

  I craved it. Yes, more than fake cheese.

  As soon as I arrived at the center Monday morning, I asked Shannon to block out my entire day. I would lie to myself and say it was best to give Mack as much time as he needed to talk.

  “Are you sure?” Shannon asked, sitting behind her immaculately organized desk right outside my office. “Because you have Doctors Cole and Snow scheduled back-to-back for their one-on-ones.”

  “I’m sure. I have to see a patient of Dr. Wilson’s.”

  Shannon gave me one of her passive-aggressive smiles. She didn’t like my request, and this time I was quick to pick up on her emotion: Irritation.

  This is what I’ve been missing? The world was so much easier to navigate when you understood what people were subtly saying with their eyes or body language.

  “I know you worked hard to schedule everything, Shannon. I’m so sorry. But the patient really needs someone to listen to him. I don’t think anyone ever has.”

  Shannon’s eyes softened a bit.

  Sympathy. That’s sympathy! I mentally patted myself on the back.

  “You’re right, Dr. V, he probably needs you more than the other doctors do.”

  “Thank you for understanding, Shannon. And…Dr. V?” I lifted a brow.

  She shrugged. “Your last name is kinda long. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Dr. V” made me think of Dr. Vagina or Dr. Viagra or Dr. Vaseline or…

  Why am I thinking about that?

  “Let’s stick to Valentine.” It sounded more appropriate and, frankly, it had always helped soften my cardboard-like image.

  “Okay,” she said with a quick shrug. “Good luck with John Doe.”

  I was about to tell her his name, but I found myself wanting to keep it to myself, like some strange coveted gem that belonged only to me.

  Damn, next I’ll be sitting in a swamp, wearing a ratty thong and petting a ring.

  “Thanks.” I grabbed my notebook and headed straight for my delicious cosmic storm, not bothering to batten down the hatches. I wanted to feel every drop of stinging rain, every gust of wind, and hear every bolt of deafening thunder. I’d never been more excited in my life for anything.

  Or anyone.

  ~~~

  I knew I wasn’t the only person in contact with Mack at the center. After all, the man was brought three meals a day and the janitorial staff cleaned his room—trash, clean sheets, and towels, etc. But when I approached his door and heard a soft voice on the other side, it instantly struck me as…well, it made me cranky, frankly.

  He’s mine.

  I mentally jerked back from my reaction, pressing my hands to my mouth. Holy shit. What was that? I had never felt possessive of anyone. Not once.

  I shook it off and reached for the door, but as I did, it opened and out walked a short and extremely thin blonde woman in very tight red pants.

  She stopped inches from my face w
ith a gasp, almost plowing into me.

  “Who are you?” I asked. She wasn’t staff, and she had no visitor’s badge.

  She looked me over as if I were a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of her zebra-striped heels. She then stepped around me and started walking away without so much as a word.

  “Excuse me, but I asked you a question.” As I spoke, the strangest, vilest sort of hatred began bubbling out of me. Yes, I hated the woman. And it wasn’t because she’d just dismissed me.

  “Keep on going, then, sweetheart…” I growled, wanting to rip her teased blonde hair from the roots, while I watched her disappear out of sight down the hall.

  Whoa. This is too much. I gathered myself with a few quick breaths and then turned the handle and stepped inside the dark twelve-by-twelve room. The institutional beige curtains were pulled shut, and the bathroom door to the side of the room, opposite the twin bed, was closed tight, creating a cave-like feel.

  As expected, Mack’s menacing frame sat in the corner. He was so still that he could easily be mistaken for a statue.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “A friend. And before you ask which sort, I’ll save you the trouble—I used to fuck her. Now I don’t. She does favors for me, hoping I might change that.”

  The word “fuck” instantly triggered nude images of Mack sliding between my thighs, his firm bare ass pumping hard, his back flexing with powerful muscles, making every inch of my body burn with ecstasy.

  I swallowed down a nonexistent glob in my throat. “Good to know,” I said, masking my involuntary response. “So I take it she’s not one of these people you’re hiding from.” Mack had mentioned that “they” were looking for him.

  “No.”

  I waited for more, but he wasn’t giving. And for the time being, I needed to pick and choose my battles. The priority was helping Mack realize why he was really here: He wanted and needed help.

  “So are you ready to begin our session?” I asked.

  “Actually, I’ve changed my mind.”

  What? “Meaning?”

  “Exactly what you think it means.”

  “But you—”

  “A moment of weakness,” he said, cutting me off. “I see no point in mulling over my situation with a stranger.”

  Dammit. Why did it have to be so dark in here? He really needed to see the annoyance in my eyes.

  “Then why did you say you agreed to my terms?” I asked.

  “Because I thought I might like to seduce you. One last fuck with an attractive woman before I go.” I watched the dark shadows of his shoulders shrug. “Who can blame me? You look like you’re in need of a thorough fucking. And it’s been a while for me.”

  I couldn’t even begin to respond to his shocking statement, but the space between my legs knew what to do: Agree with him. Not that he was the one to end my sexual drought. The man was not right in the head. And he was my patient.

  “I see you’re silent on the matter,” he said. “So I’ll take that as a confirmation.”

  I shook my head at him. “Whatever you’re doing won’t work,” I said flatly. “I’ve met far worse than you.”

  “Really?” He leaned forward a little in his chair. “Do tell.”

  I normally wouldn’t discuss other patients, but I needed him to open up. So that meant I had to make the first offering. “I once treated a man awaiting trial for murder. He made Hannibal look like a kitten.”

  Mack chuckled. “So he tried to eat your liver?”

  “No. He said he would hunt down my mother, rape her, and then eat her liver. He kindly offered to videotape the event and supply me with a copy.”

  That had happened over a year ago, and of course, I hadn’t been one for panicking or reacting, so that had just made the insane man angrier. Yes, he had been restrained for our sessions.

  “And this man,” Mack said, his tone full of cockiness as if he didn’t believe me, “what became of him?”

  “After three sessions, he was IDed by the police as a suspect in another murder case. He’s now serving a life sentence.”

  “What was his crime?”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “Raping his ex-girlfriend’s mother and then killing her. He was apparently unhappy about getting dumped. He thought that was a good way to get that across to his ex.”

  Mack was no longer chuckling. “So this man, you say, didn’t frighten you and, therefore, I do not frighten you.”

  “Are you planning to eat any of my body parts?” I asked.

  He paused for one moment too many, giving my brain the opportunity to make up an inappropriate, sexually explicit response related to which body parts I might enjoying him “eating.”

  Jeez. Focus, Ted. Focus.

  “I am not a fan of liver,” he finally replied.

  I shrugged. “Then there you go.” I took a seat at the small table pushed against the wall, not too far from the door, and set down my notebook, folding my hands in my lap. “I’m a very good listener, Mack.”

  “And I said I’m not interested in talking.” His tone was firm, and his masculine voice sent a ripple of shivers over my skin. I knew I wasn’t supposed to enjoy it, but I did. I felt so alive, like I was sitting in the lion’s den, all my senses on high alert.

  Then, nothing happened. Fine. Hardball it is.

  “All right. I understand.” I got to my feet and turned toward the door. “I’ll have your discharge papers ready within the hour.”

  “I’m not leaving,” he declared calmly.

  “We had a deal—you broke it. So I say you are leaving, and I have two large orderlies who will agree with me. And if you try to hurt anyone, your next stop will be jail or the county psych ward, where you’ll be sedated—because, sorry, we don’t prescribe meds here. We’re all about talking.” The part about sending him away was all a lie, of course. I wouldn’t send him anywhere. Not in a million years. Whoever this man was, I felt a gnawing need to keep him.

  I resisted the urge to laugh at myself. I wasn’t afraid of being in a dark room with a man who declared I would die from some sort of curse contagion. I was afraid of never seeing him again.

  “You play a mean game of ultimatums, woman,” he said with a hint of a smile in his baritone voice.

  I reached for the door handle. “I’m fair. And I believe in keeping my word. Welshers don’t win any points with me.”

  “A man is allowed to change his mind.”

  I smiled. “Then change it.”

  “You realize that once we begin, there’s no turning back.”

  My stomach turned into flutters of excitement. “I understand.”

  “And you understand that you cannot save me. That’s not what this is about.”

  Oh, but I could save him. And I could help myself in the meantime. “I understand.”

  “Then sit, Dr. Valentine. And get comfortable.”

  “Please, call me Ted.”

  “Ted? This is a man’s name,” he said, sounding displeased.

  No. Really? “Teddi, then, if you prefer.”

  “Teddi sounds like something soft and furry. You are anything but.”

  Gee. Thanks. “Theodora, then.”

  “Theodora.” My name rolled off his tongue like a seductive potion, sending sensual chills through my body.

  No, Ted. You’re getting confused. So many new emotions mixed inside my head, but I needed to remember that he was still the patient. There was no sensual anything here. Me. Him. Therapy.

  I retook my seat and folded my hands. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  MACK

  Calm the hell down, man, I told myself, attempting to settle my unstable mind.

  Wasn’t easy.

  Being near Theodora felt like having my body drawn and quartered, each appendage bound to a different emotion that threatened to tear me to pieces. Despair for what and who I was. Anger because I was unable to control it. Fear that I might repeat history. Again.

 
Yet somewhere, buried deep inside, was a flicker of hope that my torment would soon end. I merely needed to persuade Theodora to make it happen. That was what this was all about, this game I was playing to carefully lure her in.

  I drew a steady breath and decided the best place to start was at the beginning. I would need to ease her toward the truth. Her own mind would do the rest and nudge her into the light.

  If for some reason that didn’t work, well…I could always torture her to get what I wanted.

  Yeah, I think I might like that. She looked like she needed a good whipping.

  Fuck, Mack. I pulled myself back from the dark ledge. I had to remember who I really was. Or used to be: someone who wasn’t an angel, but had a few redeeming qualities.

  I cleared my throat. “My real name is Callias Macarias Minos, the second son of Archon and Elysia. And brother to Draco, my twin who was born a few minutes ahead—more than enough to set my life on a different path from his—or so I thought.” In reality, we’d ended up on very similar paths.

  Theodora uncrossed her legs and straightened her back. Every movement of her curvy body amped my salacious urges. And then there was her voice and sweet smell. Even the way she wore her dark hair cropped right at her jawline, calling attention to her delicate neck, was pure temptation.

  “You—you have a twin?” she asked.

  Yeah. Get the fuck over it. He’s taken. Of course, once her memories began returning, she’d remember what a ruthless bastard my brother was.

  “I do,” I replied. “And while my brother would become leader one day, I would be groomed to serve him. At least, that was the hope of my parents. However, after they passed from an illness brought over from the mainland via one of the local merchants, I decided to abandon any pretenses of becoming my brother’s obedient servant.”

  “So,” she interrupted, “you lived on an island. Where exactly?”

  “In Greece.” Or, more accurately, what would one day become Crete. But I would get to that part in a moment.

  “I see. So it sounds like you didn’t like your brother much,” Theodora said, keeping her tone neutral. I assumed she wanted to keep up with pretenses of her own and tell herself this was a clinical evaluation of sorts. It wasn’t, of course. Somewhere deep in her soul, she knew our meeting wasn’t a coincidence. She knew that something terrible would happen once I reached the end of my story. This was her fate. And mine.