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

  Everyone except King. He carried the authority and arrogance of a man with little patience and all the power. A dangerous combination.

  “You will follow me,” said Hagne, appearing in the doorway, addressing me like a lowly piece of algae stuck to a rock in her favorite swimming hole.

  “Not until we talk.” I stayed put, sitting on the little stone platform I’d been using as my bed.

  She smiled, but her eyes filled with a serpent-like vibe. Whatever she had planned for me didn’t involve making me “feel at home.”

  Game on, bitch. After all, she’d destroyed King. She’d taken a man who’d been devout, loving, and genuine, and reduced him to a vile sadistic demon of sorts. She’d mutilated him.

  Maybe that’s why you’re really here, Mia. Revenge. Not likely, but my insides jumped up and down, cheering frantically. I hated Hagne. I hated the impact her choices had on my life three-thousand-something years later.

  Oh. My. God. Could every shitty hand I’d been dealt be leading to this? A chance to change everyone’s fate?

  Didn’t matter. I’d do it anyway. I simply had to act quickly before I found myself snapped back to where I came from. Not that I knew for sure it would happen, but seizing the moment was an absolute must.

  I smiled sweetly. “Hagne, I really am from the future. But the gods brought me here, so that I may help you procure your true love, Callias.”

  She blinked rapidly. “The gods?”

  “Oh yes,” I lied, playing my cards for every dime they were worth, because she needed to believe I was powerful. “How else would I know about your dark little secret?”

  “I know not of what you speak. Draco, our king, is my betrothed. He is my intended—”

  “Cut the crap.” I rose to my feet and pointed my finger in her face. “I know everything. I know the evil bullshit you’re planning and how you hate Draco because you suffer from delusions that he is not as manly or deadly as his twin brother. I know that you’d rather die than marry him, but because of the oppressive time you live in, you feel like you have to do as you are told,” I snarled at her. “But we always have a choice. Always. And yours fucks up endless multitudes of lives for thousands of years, including mine. All because you didn’t have the balls to call off the wedding.” I clenched my fist. “But make no mistake, the gods have granted my wish to come here and stop you.”

  Her jaw hung open, and then she snapped it shut.

  The fury and sense of purpose pulsing through my veins revived me. I stepped in closer, placing us nose to nose. “You understand me?”

  She nodded cautiously.

  “Good. Because if you cross me, I’ll kill you.” That was something that I learned from the Spiros: never make idle threats.

  “Wha-what do you want?”

  “You’ll call it off with King…Draco. Whateverthefuck. You’ll tell him that you love Callias.”

  “He’d kill me before accepting that.”

  “Then I’ll tell him.”

  “He will kill you,” she argued. “He will kill us both. And he will never believe you.”

  “No. He’ll thank us. And he’ll believe me, because you will tell the truth when he asks.”

  She stared demurely at the floor for a moment, but I knew the timid act was a sham. A viper in a woman’s skin stood before me.

  “How do I know what you say is true?” she asked.

  “You don’t. But the way I see it, you have no choice, because I’ll kill you if you don’t do what I say. Either way, I win.”

  She nodded, as if trying to swallow the bitter pill named Mia that had been shoved down her throat.

  “I’m glad we understand each other,” I said. “Now, would you be so kind as to take me to my quarters and summon Callias for me?”

  Her eyes burst open. “Why?”

  “That’s my business. Just do it.”

  “May I ask one question, Mia?”

  I shrugged.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you care so much about our king? It seems your demands are founded upon other motivations, aside from circumventing events that have yet to pass.”

  She was right. My rage was more than simply avoiding this shit-storm called my life. Now that I’d caught a glimpse of the man—unspeakably beautiful and unsoiled by her damned curse—part of me mourned for that piece of him. Trapped, suffering and tortured for three thousand years, buried underneath layers of evil. If I could keep him from ever becoming cursed, it would not only change my fate, but his, too.

  “It’s none of your damned business,” I said.

  “You love him, don’t you?” Her words were spoken as an accusation, as if to say any acknowledgement on my part would confirm her suspicions of my insanity.

  “Love is not a word I would use to describe how I feel about that man.” A man who sent me fleeing for my life. That said, I really didn’t know how I felt. It was complicated. “My motives and feelings are none of your business. Just do as you are told, Hagne.”

  Dammit. I sound like King now.

  Sinister intentions twinkled in her deep brown eyes, but her lips curled up into a polite smile. “Let us be on our way, then.”

  Outside the temple waited five burly guards, their already dark skin deeply tanned, and their black hair pulled into tight braids. They each wore an embossed leather chest plate over plain blue tunics that reached mid-thigh. These guards also wore little leather headbands with bright red and blue feathers.

  How festive.

  “These are Spiros, the king’s personal guards,” Hagne said.

  Spiros? These were Arno’s and Stefanos’s ancestors. My mind quickly toyed with the notion of undoing yet another unfortunate turn of events. The future Spiros didn’t seem too pleased about being eternally bound to King. On the other hand, it would be a moot point if I prevented King from becoming cursed.

  Hagne added, “These men are to see to your safety, per the king’s orders.”

  She really meant they’d make sure I didn’t go anywhere.

  “What’s new?” I said. “Lead the way.”

  With the escorts on our heels, Hagne walked me through several corridors, outside through another courtyard with bright red, overflowing flowers in giant clay pots. Every building and structure seemed made of the same pale stone painted with murals of sea creatures or goddesses.

  As we neared a small fruit orchard overlooking the ocean, another large structure—with soaring pillars, large doorways, and more flowers—came into view. I realized it had to be King’s “wing of the palace,” because every room had more. More elaborate paintings. More ornate carvings on the stone pillars. More space. It had a grand palatial feel.

  I stopped and looked at Hagne, pointing at the temple. “I’m staying…here?”

  She nodded with a toxic glare. “You will stay in the chamber adjacent to his.”

  I stepped back.

  “Something the matter?” she asked, holding back a snicker.

  I shook my head. “No. I just—”

  “You said you would handle the beast. Are you not capable?” Her words made me take another step back. I was treading in unknown waters. This King wasn’t cursed or evil, but was he some other breed of savage? A man who took what he wanted, no questions asked?

  We’re still talking about King. What the hell do you think?

  Okay, but this is a much less complex and tainted version of King. This King is just a man.

  I had to admit, a part of me secretly felt intrigued. This King was the one who still had all of the singularly seductive qualities—the raw male strength and the frigging hot as hell body—but without the curse. This version of King was human and alive, which meant the depths of his fucked-up-ness were limited to one lifetime. In fact, I’d bet if we compared notes, my past would out-shady him at this stage.

  “I can handle your king,” I replied.

  When I entered the lavish chamber, I immediately noticed a few thing
s. One: no doors. Two: adjoining balcony to King’s chamber, overlooking the ocean. Three: indoor plumbing.

  Yes! Steam drifted from the sunken stone tub, and floral scented soaps were piled into painted dishes beside neatly folded stacks of soft cloths. I turned and savored the view from the glassless window overlooking a never-ending stretch of turquoise and deep blue ocean. In fact…

  Holy shit. This was exactly where King would build his new home. Right on this very spot. The position against the setting sun and the shape of the shoreline—sort of a small inlet between two rolling hills—were almost the same. I noted to myself how even cursed kings can be sentimental creatures.

  “I will have a fresh gown brought to you,” said Hagne, “and the girl will do your hair after you have bathed.” She pointed to a young woman, about fifteen or so, wearing a plain brown tunic, standing with a rigid posture in the corner of the room. Four more awaited instructions near the doorway.

  “Does she have a name?” I asked.

  “Why do you care? She is a slave,” responded Hagne.

  “She’s a person. With a name. Just like you.”

  “Ypirétria,” Hagne responded impatiently.

  I hated that they called them maids and not by their proper names.

  “And what are their names?” I jerked my head toward the other four.

  “Ypirétria,” Hagne replied again.

  I shook my head. “So, what? I’m supposed to call them out numerically, like Thing One and Thing Two?”

  Hagne blinked at me.

  “Never mind.” Now was not the time to school them in the value of civil liberties, but I did take comfort in knowing that this problem would eventually improve, though not soon enough in my book. In the meantime, it didn’t mean I had to follow their rules.

  Hagne dipped her head and took her leave. One of the girls closed off a curtain over the doorway and approached me.

  “I can undress myself.” I held out my hands. “Thank you, umm…what’s your name?”

  The young woman didn’t want to answer.

  “I insist on knowing your name.”

  “Mela,” she replied.

  “Thank you, Mela. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you’d wait outside.”

  The five women exchanged glances.

  “It’s okay,” I assured them. “I’ve been washing my body for a few years now. I promise not to miss any strategic spots.” I seriously needed a few minutes alone.

  Reservedly, they nodded and left me to soak in the amazing tub that smelled of fresh rosemary and sage. I couldn’t believe such luxury existed in ancient Minoa, but there it was, and I felt damned grateful for it.

  I closed my eyes and my mind drifted for a moment. An image of my parents popped up. Oh God. By now, they have to be a mess. Only, they didn’t know I was gone, did they? Because they hadn’t been born yet.

  I mentally scratched my head. So that means if I die here, my parents won’t ever know what became of me. On the other side of the coin, if I went back, King would be waiting to kill me and do God-only-knew.

  Not if you stop him from becoming cursed. He’ll die a natural death, and life will go on. That was, after all, the way it was meant to be. We all had our time, and then we went. And that was the only way to stop the horrific tragedies still to come. I could only hope I’d get the chance to go home and see the new future with my own eyes.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Mia, wake up.”

  My eyes snapped open to find Hagne standing over me. Still feeling a bit weak, I’d drifted off in the tub.

  “The meal will be served shortly, and you are not ready,” she said. “This will displease our king.”

  I cocked one brow. As if I gave a flying Minoan fig leaf about pleasing him. “He’ll just have to wait, then.”

  Her eyes nearly exploded from her skull, but then she smiled and nodded. “As you wish.”

  Translated to mean, “It’s your ass, not mine.”

  “See you at dinner,” she said.

  After she left, I dried myself off and slipped on the dress left for me on the “bed” (a hay mat over a stone platform). My vivid blue frock was pretty damned impressive for folks who didn’t own sewing machines. It was a pleated toga style, belted at the waist, that hung over the right shoulder and flowed to the floor. Luckily, it hid the fact I wore no undergarments.

  “Ready!” I called out. The posse of young women stormed inside and made me sit. They frantically began putting my hair up, using little copper pins with rounded jewels on the ends. Then they wrapped a little headband made of pearls and other polished stones of various colors to hold everything up, with the exception of the curls in the back, which they left hanging down. They quickly rubbed my underarms with oil that smelled like lavender mixed with roses, and then held up a small polished plate.

  “Wow. I look beautiful,” I said. “Thank you.”

  The women stared at the floor, and Mela gestured toward the door to where that battalion of guards awaited. “I hope he is pleased,” she said.

  “I’m sure he will be,” I said, “thank you.” I felt so incredibly guilty about the way these women lived. Maybe I could talk to King later.

  I followed the men outside down a set of stairs that skirted the edge of the building and through another courtyard illuminated by torches. I entered the open-aired hall with vaulted ceilings and noticed a shirtless King sitting at the head of a long table lit with oil lamps, a look of utter outrage shooting from his eyes. Hagne sat to his side, smothering a glib expression, and the other eight guests, all men, were motionless.

  I cleared my throat and smiled. “Good evening.”

  “You are late,” growled King. The muscles in his neck and shoulders flexed with irritation.

  “And you never change,” I scowled.

  The room collectively gasped.

  Okay, I get that at this point some might accuse me of insanity for behaving so rudely toward this man, especially given my current predicament; however, this was no time to start second-guessing the facts. Curse or no curse, King was not a man who respected weakness. Nor was he the type to trust easily. If I was going to change his fate, and thus all our fates, he needed to see that I was there without hidden agendas. What you saw was what you got. That also meant cowering to anyone, especially him, would be the kiss of death.

  That said, I prepared for his wrath. Because the other thing I knew? He hated to be disobeyed. “Do as you are told, Miss Turner,” he’d say.

  King’s stunning blue eyes drilled me for several nerve-racking moments, and then he exploded with laughter, his head full tilt toward the aquatic-themed, mural-covered ceiling. The guests chuckled along nervously as well, exchanging glances. They didn’t have a clue as to why their king laughed like a madman, but I sure as hell did: my insolence amused him. It would three-thousand-something years from now, too. I equated it to how one might feel if they were hiking through the woods and came across an ornery chipmunk. It could squeak and squeal all day long, but you’d never feel threatened. You’d simply say, “Look at the balls on that furry little bastard. He knows I could squish him, right?” You might even feel a bit of respect for the creature’s standing up to you, even if you weren’t quite sure what its damned problem was.

  That was how King thought of me.

  King’s laughter died, and he gestured toward an empty little stool made from carved wood, opposite Hagne. “You look very beautiful tonight,” he said.

  I self-consciously reached for my hair. “Thank you. Mela did a nice job.”

  King frowned. He had no clue who Mela was.

  A few servants appeared out of nowhere and poured wine into my metal chalice. On the table was quite a spread of almonds, fresh figs, more olives, and some lentils mixed with herbs and…stuff. Hell, I had no clue.

  What I wouldn’t give for a glass of whiskey right now.

  The servants began placing small portions of food on the beautiful, hand-painted ceramic plate in front of
me, depicting a blue octopus eating a fish. A scoop of barley, topped with some cooked snails and little sardines, was placed in the center. Eesh…

  I smiled, knowing it could’ve been worse. At least I recognized most everything. “Looks delicious,” I said.

  “Eat. You will need your strength tonight, Seer,” said King.

  I held in a gasp. He’d said similar words to me in a dream that had spiraled into a nightmare and turned out not to be so farfetched. King tying me up, tearing off my clothes…The reminder sent a cold spike through me.

  My pulse sped up, and I felt the new Mia—cold, hard, ready for anything—evaporate into thin air.

  “Excuse me. I need a little fresh air.” I stood and headed for the door before I lost my composure. A few simple moments were all I needed to stomp out the freaking-out flames.

  I headed to the balcony overlooking the ocean and braced myself, allowing the cool breeze to fill my nostrils. The full moon was high in the sky, its light bouncing off the rippling waves.

  “What is the meaning of your retreat, woman? Get back inside this instant,” King commanded.

  Great.

  I swiveled on my heel and faced him. His shirtless magnificence was not lost on me one bit, and neither was his long dark hair. His unshaven angular jaw remained just as wickedly handsome as ever, too. Without a doubt, he took my breath away.

  “Did you hear me, woman, or shall I carry you back to the table?”

  Be strong. He won’t respect a coward. “Stop calling me ‘woman.’ My name is Mia.”

  “Get back inside, Mia.”

  I scoffed. “I’m not hungry and, frankly, the company does not please me.” I referred to Hagne, of course.

  He blinked. “You dare insult my council? You, a lowly Seer who claims to be from another time?”

  I held up my finger. “Lowly? What makes you think that?”

  He looked me over, his eyes momentarily sticking hungrily on my breasts. He caught himself, cleared his throat, then threw back his shoulders a bit. “All Seers are lowly.”