King for a Day Read online

“How did it go with Miranda?”

  “I don’t know. She seemed suspicious, but she agreed.” I wondered if I should tell Mack about the additions to the deal. Miranda wanted to watch Vaughn die, and I acquired a guy.

  No. Don’t do anything to worry him. He needs to rest.

  I checked my watch. It was almost 6:00 a.m. “I guess we’ll know in a few hours if she delivers or not. By the way, how am I going to know if it’s Vaughn’s real arm?”

  “We won’t, but I doubt she’ll give us a fake. 10 Club members don’t do that. It’s too easy to get caught and tarnish your name. One bad deal and it’s likely your head they’ll trade for next.”

  “Oh. Well, good to know. But what if she can’t get her hands on it? What then?”

  “Then we’re screwed.”

  With less than thirteen hours left to go, screwed was looking more and more like our fate.

  “Have some faith,” Mack whispered and closed his eyes, clearly in pain.

  He was right. This would either work, or it wouldn’t. Sitting around sulking wouldn’t help us.

  “By the way, I have Strong meeting you at King’s office in about four and a half hours,” Mack said quietly. “That gives you plenty of time to find the serum and…” he hesitated, “prepare it for her.”

  Prepare. I looked down at my hands, wondering if I really had the courage to go through with this. “Are you sure there isn’t another way?”

  Mack took a moment before he opened his bloodshot eyes. “King ended his partnership with Talia after he found out she was secretly doing deals with Vaughn.”

  I wondered what the point was. Seemed that everyone did deals with that despicable monster.

  “Talia was trying some new transplant voodoo-crap she acquired and was using Vaughn to obtain young women. They peeled their skin off while they were still alive.”

  “Okay.” I popped out of my chair. “Time to go kill Talia.” And Vaughn, for that matter, too. Heck. When I really thought about it, the entire Club needed to be exterminated. They were like cockroaches.

  Oh my God. I took a mental step back, shocked by how quickly I’d crossed that line.

  Mack looked as shocked as I felt. “Well, I’m glad to see you take the truth in stride.”

  “I’m going to hell,” I whispered.

  “At least you won’t be lonely.” Mack grinned.

  I looked at him and shook my head, but didn’t have much else to say. “Well, I guess I’d better get back to the warehouse.”

  “After you find the serum, give it to Arno. He’ll deliver it.”

  “Are you sure?” I felt guilty dragging him into this.

  See. You still have some morals left, Mia.

  I’m going to go kill someone. I’m going to hell. Period.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Mack replied.

  “Any recommendations on the other ingredient?”

  “King always has hemlock on hand. It’s on the second floor, in the four hundreds, I think.”

  Hemlock. How strange. It was the poison that woman mentioned in the book.

  “Okay. Get some rest. I’ll call you in a few hours. Or not.” Meaning something went wrong and we were toast.

  “Everything will be okay,” he tried to assure me.

  I looked down at my feet and nodded. “Thanks for everything, Mack. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

  Mack fell silent, and when I glanced at him, his expression was one of shame. Did he think he’d done something wrong? Because this situation certainly wasn’t his fault.

  “See ya later, Mia,” he said.

  “See ya.”

  I left, knowing that I might not see him again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Two hours later, I was in possession of everything I needed. King’s organizational system had been fairly easy to figure out once I made a few laps around the second floor, careful to avoid the heads. Most of the items were numbered and classified by function. Poisons, weapons, or anything that could cause death were shelved together next to the nasty-looking spiders in little terrariums.

  Items that might influence people’s minds—a bracelet with a “love spell,” inks for tattooing (of course, I frowned when I saw those), and other strange things like snow globes and old newspapers—were right next to the youth and reanimation serums. Most of the items had tags written in foreign languages, along with thick coatings of dust like they hadn’t been moved for decades. Underneath each item, however, were numbers so I could match them to King’s catalog.

  “Is it ready?” Arno asked.

  I stared at the tiny brown dropper bottle of oil I’d placed on King’s kitchen countertop alongside the poison and vial of Cleopatra’s blood. I found it hard to believe that one little drop of liquid could reanimate a dead hand or that blood could survive this long. This was some pretty weird stuff, and King could say all he liked, but there was no science in the world that would explain any of it. If this wasn’t magic, what was?

  “Miss Turner?” Arno asked impatiently. “May I remind you that it is not just your life on the line.”

  I glanced at Arno.

  “What’s your real name?” I asked.

  “Arsenius. Arsenius Spiros.”

  I nodded. “Arsenius.” It was an unusual name, but fit the man.

  “Why do you ask?”

  I shrugged. “I just wanted to know who I’m sharing this moment with.”

  He lifted one dark brow.

  “You know,” I explained, “the moment I stopped being a good person.” I reached for the small bottle of poison, but Arno caught my hand.

  “Let me,” he said.

  “That’s sweet, but what difference does it make?”

  “It makes a difference to you.”

  “Why would you care?” It was an honest question.

  “You are King’s…companion.”

  Companion. I was anything but that.

  “And,” he added, “I think King would want me to shield you from anything that would create such a heavy burden.”

  That was oddly sweet and unexpected. “Why are you so loyal to him, Arsenius?”

  “I owe King my life.”

  “What did King do for you?”

  Still gripping my hand, Arno gave it a little squeeze, prompting me to pull back my arm.

  I did.

  “That is not your concern.” He took the small bottle of hemlock, poured a few drops into the vial of blood—aka the serum—and replaced its top. Arno then took the vial and headed for the steel door of King’s chamber. “I will call you after I’ve made the delivery. But if I do not return, please tell King that I hope to see him in the next lifetime.”

  “Uhhh…” Arno’s strange words stuck inside my head. What had he meant? And what had King done for him? Because, as with Mack, Arno was ready to throw himself on the sword for King, and therefore, me.

  Once again, the throbbing ignited inside my head. My brain couldn’t stop trying to reconcile the two conflicting versions of King. The good one and the not-so-good one.

  I winced and then looked at the time. One hour until Miranda’s delivery deadline. If she didn’t show, we were all toast.

  ~~

  Draco came to me last night, seeking comfort in my arms. He could not believe his own brother, his twin, would betray him with a public challenge. Stupid man. He believes he matters to me even though I have refused him in my bed a dozen times. Can he not see what I think of him? Or that I wish nothing more than to tell him he is weak and pathetic, that he should expect nothing less from fate? Because even fate knows she made a mistake when she allowed him to come first from his mother’s womb. He should not have been king.

  Oh, the things I wanted to scream last night. Oh, how I longed to crush his feeble heart. But I could not. Draco could never know that it was I who sparked Callias’s betrayal, that it was Callias’s child now in my belly.

  That is why I allowed Draco to lie with me one last time. That is why I waited until t
he man was deep in the throes of his passion, panting words of love in my ears, when I clawed at his back, leaving deep gashes. Over and over again I raked my nails into his bleeding flesh so he would know what was in my heart. But so desperate for my touch was he, that the pain did not stop Draco from having his fill. When he completed, Draco simply got up and left without a word.

  I pray it will be the last time I see him before his death.

  I closed the book, thinking I couldn’t possibly go on. The hatred inside this horrible woman was just unbearable. And the brother, in my mind, was the weak one. He allowed himself and his ego to be manipulated by this psycho Hagne. Or maybe both brothers were idiots for loving her. Who knew?

  And the way she enjoyed hurting him…

  Goose bumps erupted over every inch of my skin as I pictured Hagne smiling while she clawed at Draco’s back. Poor man. It seemed to me that loving her was his only fault, and part of me hoped she would be the one to die. That was, until she said she was carrying a baby. It was hard to wish death on a pregnant woman.

  So, again, I had to ask, what was this story to King? A family history?

  “It is not too late for you to run, Mia,” King said from the black leather couch.

  “Christ. Do you always have to scare me like that?” I asked.

  This time he wore a simple charcoal-gray sweater and button-fly jeans, his black stubble neatly trimmed. He looked so relaxed with his thick arms extended over the back of the chair.

  He smiled, and those deep little dents puckered in both cheeks. “It is much more entertaining when I do. Your face makes that expression I enjoy so much.”

  “What expression would that be?”

  “Happiness to see me. It only lasts but a moment.”

  “These are some weird conversations I’m making up.” I paused. “Are you sure it’s not really you?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Mack thinks it’s possible. So…I guess it’s possible.” However, made-up King knew things only I knew. Like what I had been thinking about when I’d left Miranda’s home.

  “If I was not a product of your Seer imagination, would it make a difference?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “No, it wouldn’t. But I would be asking you where the hell you are.”

  “Telling might only encourage you, Mack, and Arno to come looking for me. Something I’m not in support of.”

  Wait. Is he…is he…?

  I stood up, feeling my face turn red hot. “Oh my God. I’m not making you up, am I? Holy shit. You’re real. You have been all along!”

  He flashed that charming smile and shrugged. “Perhaps I took it a bit too far, but I have my reaso—”

  “Bastard!” I lunged for him.

  I reached for his neck with both hands and landed in his lap, straddling him. He caught both of my wrists and held them tightly in his iron grip. Amusement sparkled in his light gray eyes.

  “You think this is funny?” I growled. Meanwhile somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I still questioned if I’d made him up or if I was just too naïve and trusting to see the truth. Had he really been toying with me all along?

  “I assure you,” he said, still holding on to that wicked little smile, “that I take all of this quite seriously.”

  I stared into those eyes, looking for some sort of proof that King was real. However, the moment I saw the beautiful lines of his cheekbones, the straight black brows, the square jaw and seductive lips, I became mesmerized. Was this another dream? Because the heat radiating from his lap as I straddled him certainly felt real to my body.

  King loosened his grip on my wrists and studied my lips with voracious eyes.

  I loved it when he looked at me like that. It made me feel powerful knowing he struggled with his own desires.

  My hands traveled to his hard chest, and I felt myself slipping away again, crossing that line where my mind became drunk and saturated with lust. I craved him in a horrible, wrong sort of way.

  I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, closing my eyes to savor the rush of dancing with fire.

  He opened his mouth and submitted to me, allowing me to explore, lick, and seduce him with my tongue.

  Lord. Why does he make me feel so crazy? I ran my hands through his soft, thick hair and pressed my chest to his, wishing that the clothing between us would disappear. Especially the clothing that covered his eager erection now pushing between my legs.

  I let out a little moan, triggering King to pull back, a look of wild hunger reflecting in his gray eyes.

  Without saying a word, he slowly moved his large hands to my hips. He began to rock himself into me, grinding his erection into the apex between my legs. I slid my hands to his shoulders and started to move with him. His heat felt so good, so perfect.

  I lowered my mouth to his once again and closed my eyes, wanting the ecstasy to never end. If this was or wasn’t him, it felt real, and it felt like what I needed.

  When his hands glided up from my hips and cupped my breast through my sweater, it only deepened my need. I continued rocking myself over that hard bulge in his jeans, but that wasn’t enough. I needed to feel him inside me, filling me up, sliding in and out with that large cock I’d once held in my hands when we’d come this close to having sex in his office. It had been thick and long and perfect like the rest of him.

  I reached for the button of his jeans and undid the first one.

  King quickly grabbed hold of my hand. “No.”

  I stilled and then glanced into his piercing, seductive eyes.

  “I meant what I said, Mia. You are mine. And that cannot be changed.”

  “I don’t und—” I blinked and was hit with a wave of sharp pain in my head. I closed my eyes and groaned.

  King placed his hands over each of my temples and pressed firmly. “Look at me, Miss Turner. See who you are allowing to touch you. Really see,” he growled.

  I tried to look at whatever it was that he wanted me to see, but I saw only his colors. Reds and blues, pain and sorrow, swirled violently together to form a brilliant shade of purple. “Purple,” I groaned. “I just see purple.”

  “No!” He threw me off, and I landed on my ass with a thump on the hardwood floor. “You didn’t read the book, did you?” He stood from the couch and seethed. “Did you?”

  My arms braced behind me, I shook my head no. “I haven’t finished it.”

  King’s beautiful face turned a vicious shade of red. “I had it translated for you. Word for fucking word. And you will fucking finish it, Miss Turner!” he screamed.

  “Why? Why is the story so important to you? Just tell me what you want me to know.” Why did my head hurt so badly? Why did I feel so intoxicated around him?

  “It will show you what to expect from me.”

  My mind tried to pull the pieces together, but there were simply too many impossible answers popping up. “I don’t understand.”

  He swooped down and pulled me up by the front of my sweater. Deep purple lights danced in his pupils. “Understand this, Miss Turner: You have now been warned.”

  ~~

  King disappeared in the blink of an eye, and of course, I frantically scrambled to the book. My eyes searched for the answers he wanted me to find.

  “Holy Christ.” I paused. Had that been real? Had King just been here? Or was I going mad? Because if he had been, then why wasn’t he trying to help us with the 10 Club issue? I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t intervene, risking a forfeit of all his possessions.

  Whatever was happening, my trembling hands had already started the task of searching for the spot where I’d left off.

  “Here.” I skimmed the words quickly as Hagne described the events of that day, the family fighting amongst each other, and the bloodshed that broke out as the men of the island took sides over who they thought should be their ruler. Hagne seemed to enjoy every bit of the chaos and death prior to the event.

  But as the sword fight began, I and the five hundred others
in the stadium held our breaths, watching the display of sheer power and bottomless ferocity. Both men, equal in size and speed, swung with the force of giants and the gracefulness of well-trained warriors. The awe I felt, however, rapidly disintegrated into despair when I took in Draco’s large arms and the muscles stacked upon his broad chest. He had been blessed with a swift elegance that Callias lacked, and it was then that my heart began to wonder if Callias might have chosen poorly. Why had he challenged his brother to a fight when poison would have been a surer victory? But Callias had believed poison to be the tool of cowards. He refused to dishonor his brother or his family in such a way. Fool.

  Or perhaps the fool was I to believe that Callias’s ferocity and determination would make him undefeatable. I had not anticipated that both brothers, equal in age but for a few minutes, would not have received the same training. Evidently, they had not. Draco’s comfort with a sword was superior, his confidence and control displayed with every step and swing. His pale gray eyes, so patient, waiting and watching Callias’s every move.

  He will win, I thought. No, I pray to thee, gods, to let Callias be victorious.

  When Draco swung hard and knocked Callias to his back, I stood and screamed. It was then that Draco looked at me and saw what I felt, not for him, but for the man in the dirt, his twin brother. Callias rolled away and rebounded to his feet, sword ready. Draco stared at Callias and begged him to say that it was not true.

  Callias, such a fool, told him that I was his as was the child in my belly. “As will be your throne and your head.”

  Those words only provided fuel for Draco’s anger. He swung again, and this time he landed the blade in Callias’s neck. I screamed and rushed to Callias. But what could I do? There was so much blood. Blood everywhere. His headless body lay on the ground, twitching, while Draco called me a whore and condemned me to death in front of his family, my family, and our people. It was then that I told him I would prefer a thousand deaths than to spend one day with such a pathetic, disgusting, and weak man not fit to rule a pile of shit.

  Draco scooped up the dirt, mixed with the blood of his brother’s neck, and forced it into my mouth while everyone watched. It was only because I carry a child that he did not execute me on the spot, but he promised that as soon as the child came, he would take it and—