Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
Date: 2014-05-04 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Romance; Paranormal Romance; Fantasy; Dark; Urban Fantasy; Magic; Supernatural; Ghosts; Contemporary
Description: A NEW, DARK FANTASY FROM NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER, MIMI JEAN PAMFILOFF King isn’t who she thought. She wasn’t even close... When Mia Turner’s life becomes tethered to a mysterious billionaire, who she swears is the devil himself, she knows she must break free. It doesn’t matter if everything about him—those sinful lips, those pale gray eyes, that perfect male body—keeps her awake at night. He’s evil. She has to get away. But when this man, known simply as King, suddenly disappears, Mia will discover she’s not home free. Because without King, she’s no longer safe from his ruthless, depraved, p
Publisher: P&S, Inc.

I effed up. There’s simply no other way to say it. None at all. At every turn, I made decisions I thought were right, but they weren’t. Oh God, they weren’t even close. And now he owns me. Even the dark spaces inside my head, just like he said. The irony is that there’s a line of women around the block who’d do anything to be his, but they don’t know him like I do. They don’t know who he really is. They don’t know his darkness, his ghosts, the horrors of his past that have made him into this beast with a thirst so deep, he’d kill anyone, do anything, to quench it. They only see the stunning good looks, the expensive suits…the power.

But I see him. I know everything. I know the ecstasy and the pain he’s capable of producing. I know how his lips twitch when he secretly desires to kiss me. I know the way he scratches his stubbled chin when I get under his skin and make him question that blackened heart of his.

But Lord, oh Lord, I don’t know what to do. Even if I could get away, I don’t know if I want to. I’ve fallen into his trap.

He owns me.

KING FOR A DAY

The King Series

Book Two

Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Just remember, mean people suck and ebook piracy is NOT a victimless crime. Just ask us working moms! Please buy our books, don’t steal them or share illegally (or be a sucky mean person). This author does not authorize ANY “free downloads” or share sites to distribute her books. Ever. And for those who bought the book…muchas thank yous! You rock.

OTHER WORK BY MIMI JEAN PAMFILOFF:

KING’S (Book 1, The King Trilogy)

FATE BOOK (a New Adult Novel)

THE ACCIDENTALLY YOURS SERIES

Accidentally in Love with…a God?

Accidentally Married to…a Vampire?

Sun God Seeks…Surrogate?

Accidentally…Evil? (a Novella)

Vampires Need Not…Apply?

Accidentally…Cimil? (a Novella)

Accidentally…Over? (Series Finale) AUGUST 2014

COMING JULY 2014

HAPPY PANTS CAFÉ (a Contemporary Romance Series)

COMING LATE 2014

KING OF ME, Book 3 of the King Trilogy

FATE BOOK 2 (a New Adult Novel)

COMING 2015

IMMORTAL MATCHMAKERS, INC.

Copyright © 2014 by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the writer, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks are not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Paperback

ISBN-10: 1497587867

ISBN-13: 978-1497587861

Ebook

ISBN-10: 0990304809

ISBN-13: 978-0-9903048-0-7

Cover Design by EarthlyCharms.com

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Note from Author

Acknowledgements

Sneak Peeks

Fate Book Excerpt

About the Author

Dedication

To Vicki Randall.

Thank you for giving me that last push.

PROLOGUE

San Francisco.

Present Day.

Have you ever been wrong about someone? I mean, really, really wrong?

I’m not talking about guessing an age incorrectly or going out on a date with some “nice” guy you had a good feeling about, only to discover he’s a chauvinistic a-hole.

I’m talking about the kind of wrong that shatters the foundation of every belief you’ve ever had. The kind of wrong that wrings your heart bone-dry, and then infests your mind with a corrosive acid made of concentrated fear. Suddenly, you don’t know if you’ll ever breathe right again. Because if you could be wrong about this one person, then everything else in your reality is fair game. Nothing is sacred or real or unchangeable.

Have you ever been that kind of wrong?

I have. Holy hell. I’ve never been so wrong in my entire life. Because the beautiful, evil man at the center of the sloppy, tangled mess deep in my stomach is not who I thought.

Not even close.

I shook my head, mentally berating myself. You knew something was just not right with King. But this? I’d completely had my blinders on.

Hell, Mia. No one could have seen this coming. No one. Because it’s…fucking impossible.

Still, I couldn’t help thinking, if I’d just opened my eyes, I might’ve seen the truth.

Maybe I’d been distracted by his seductive lips or the hypnotic effect of those pale gray eyes outlined by thick, black lashes. Perhaps my attention had been hijacked by the godlike perfection of his masculine body and that deep, room-filling voice he used to control my emotions. Maybe I’d missed the truth because he scared the living hell out of me. Yes, his ferocity was a definite distraction. No man should be that lethal and powerful. No man.

And, as I read the entry of his journal while curled up on the antique leather armchair in his private chamber, two floors above his secret warehouse filled with priceless art, mystical artifacts, and hundreds of thousands of other objects he’d collected, I suddenly understood what it was all for, who he really was.

I closed the thick leather-bound book and crushed it against my chest, clenching my eyes shut, holding back the tears of horror that begged to be set free with a scream.

The man known as King, the man who was said to be able to “find anything or anyone for a price,” was so good at hunting because he had spent a lifetime searching for the one thing he needed most. It wasn’t more power or money—God knows he had enough of both to last an eternity. But what King wanted, only my death could bring.

And, dear Lord, despite every terrifying detail I now knew about the man, a tiny, sad little part of me wanted to give it to him. No one should be allowed to suffer so much in one lifetime. Not even King.

I just wished it didn’t have to end like this. Because at any moment they would be coming for me, and I would become the property of a man who intended to “pick the flesh from my bones.”

I dropped my face into my hands. “King,” I said with a sad breath, “if there’s any chance in hell you can hear me, I want you to know that—”

The heavy steel door to King’s chamber suddenly burst open.

“They’re here,” I whispered to myself.

CHAPTER ONE

Approximately Twenty Hours Earlier.

Key in hand, I gaped at the football-field-length warehouse overlooking the San Francisco Bay. It was six thirty in the evening, and a cool fall breeze drifted off the salty water. The street was empty but for a few plastic grocery bags rolling with the wind.

Go inside, Mia. Don’t be afraid. Nothing bad will happen. I glanced at the ominous, oversized steel door, and then closed my eyes, trying not to let my fear send me packing. I had to do this. If there was any chance of finding King, I owed it to him to try. Didn’t I?

I shook my head and ground the ball of one foot into the dirty sidewalk. No, perhaps I didn’t. King had disappeared two weeks ago. Two. And Lord knew my life was infinitely safer without him in it, but if I didn’t help him, then who?

The other demons from hell?

Okay, he wasn’t a demon. That I knew of.

He was, however, evil and beautiful and powerful. He also demanded complete obedience from those who “worked” for him, showing no mercy for those who pissed him off. Plus, he considered me his property.

Let me repeat that: His. Property.

How was that possible? It was a long story that can be summarized in one brief, twisted, unbelievable story: my brother went missing in Mexico; my life was threatened when I went searching for him; I couldn’t get help from anyone, including the authorities. In short, King had been the only option to present itself in a moment of desperation. So I went to him, a complete stranger, begging for help, unaware that doing so would cost me dearly. “My price is you,” he’d said. What he’d really meant was that I would have to trade my life for my brother’s.

I agreed. Yes, I had been that desperate. And I believed, at the time, that King couldn’t possibly have been serious when he said I’d have to work for him indefinitely.

Unfortunately, he had been dead serious. What was more unfortunate, I later learned, was he not only had the power to enforce our deal, but also had abilities far beyond that of any normal person, including causing pain and death with the flick of a wrist. And let me tell you, his punishments were no picnic because he knew exactly how to get inside my head. Literally and metaphorically speaking, which was why I swore over and over again that the man was the devil himself. How else could I explain his powers?

So why would a college-educated, professional woman of twenty-six mourn the loss of a sadistic, mysterious billionaire who wanted to own and control her like an obedient pet?

Simple. But I’ll get to that in a minute.

Because at that very moment, my hand had found the courage my heart could not. It had shoved the key I’d found taped underneath a desk drawer in King’s office into the lock at the front of the warehouse. My brave, brave hand had even managed to twist the key and give the icy steel door a push.

My body became an unmovable mass, determined not to step an inch closer toward the darkness or toward the powerful, toxic cloud of death and despair lurking inside. To say the place had a bad vibe was a gross understatement.

I wondered if it wasn’t King’s body swimming in a pool of blood. After all, the man had enemies. Or perhaps King had tortured and killed people in there, leaving behind some bad juju. Or possibly the abyss before me was nothing more than an empty warehouse filled with the imprints of objects that had once occupied the space. After all, I could see such things. I was a Seer of Light.

What the hell did that mean? Honestly, I wasn’t sure. I knew very little about being a Seer and had yet to accept the existence of my “gift,” but King had opened my eyes to many, many strange and impossible things. One of which was the reality of sixth senses and abilities that defied logic or science. I, for example, could see colors—emotional impressions, if you will—of people and/or objects even after they’d left a place or passed on. King had thought to use my ability to track down something he’d been hunting for a very, very long time: the Artifact. I had no idea what it did, but I hadn’t proven to be much use helping him find it.

I looked down at my feet, wondering why they refused to move. Apparently, they weren’t as brave as my hands. I sighed and decided to look inside, using my gift.

I relaxed my lids, closing them just a little, and focused on my shallow breaths. When I reopened them and stared into the darkness of King’s warehouse, it was like gazing into a giant kaleidoscope of swirling rainbows. Every color was present, from the lightest to the darkest, not that I understood what they all meant. Red, I knew, was violent pain. Black, death. Blue, sorrow. Green was life. And purple? That was King. He let me see his colors once, only once, and it was the moment my feelings for him began to shift from hate and fear into something else, something I didn’t want to talk about. But maybe those messed-up feelings were really why I was there.

I dropped my head. “Dammit.” I had to go inside. I’d have to persuade the rest of my body to be as brave as my hands.

I turned on my phone’s flashlight app, took three quick breaths, and stepped inside, where I quickly found a bank of light switches on the wall. When I flipped them on, the place lit up like a stadium.

“Holy shit.” My breath left my body. What is this place?

Floor-to-ceiling, heavy-duty racks like you might see at Costco filled the enormous warehouse. But that’s not what shocked me. They were full of…stuff. Antique cars—yes, cars—huge oil paintings, stacks of books, marble sculptures of Roman soldiers and Greek gods, wine barrels, guns, and…I couldn’t begin to take it all in. Crossing aisle after aisle of shelves that had four or five tiers each, I strolled from one end of the room to the other.

There are three levels to this building? I’d seen it from the outside. Three distinct stories. Oh my God. So this is King’s arsenal. These were the things he scoured the earth to find, some I imagined to keep, some to barter away with members of 10 Club—I’d get to the story of those sick bastards in a moment. Right now, however, I needed to answer the hounding question that I simply didn’t want to ask: Why the hell was I really there? Had King wanted me to find this place, anticipating that something bad was going to happen to him?

If yes, did he know I would come? Given how he’d treated me—horribly—it would have been a gamble. On the other hand, he had recently saved the lives of two people—my mother and brother—whom I loved dearly. Did he know that might buy a little loyalty from me?

Probably. The damned evil, beautiful man knows everything. He even knew that a part of me felt drawn to him. He’d said I had an attraction to his darkness but just couldn’t admit it to myself. I was beginning to think he might be right, because it wasn’t my happy side preventing me from running out the door. And I was completely fascinated by this place.

Heading toward a wide staircase I spotted, I walked down one of the long, wide aisles that stretched down the center of the warehouse. I passed crate after crate of objects, some with tags, some with little photos stapled to them. There were vases, an Excalibur (the car, not the sword), and cases of whisky. I wondered if it was the good stuff Mack—King’s pilot and right hand—had told me about once. (I was a whisky fan.)

Hands and knees shaking, sweat creeping down the small of my back underneath my red sweater, I became increasingly nervous as I approached the stairs. What would I find on the second floor? Surely the ominous vibe wasn’t coming from the objects down here. Uh-uh. While they were seemingly pricey or rare, they were innocuous.

I grabbed hold of the railing and crept up a few steps. I leaned forward, attempting to catch a glimpse of whatever was up there. I could practically smell the death and pain…the power.

“Eh-hem.” I heard a woman clear her throat.

I spun and practically fell on my rear but caught myself with the railing. An extremely thin brunette, wearing skintight, white leather pants and a gold silk top, stood just a few feet away at the base of the stairs, with one hand cocked on her boney hip.

“Miss Turner,” she said, “nice to see you again.”

Oh no. What’s she doing here? The woman’s name was Talia. I knew because I’d met her at a 10 Club party King had made me attend a few days before he disappeared. She had a face you couldn’t easily forget, despite really, really wanting to. Because there was such a thing as too much plastic surgery and too much makeup.

“How did you find this place?” I asked.

Ignoring my question, Talia reached into her bag and handed me a folded piece of paper.

“What’s that?” I asked.

Her eyes flickered with abhorrence as they washed over me. “Take it, you moron. It’s a letter.”

I tried not to take offense. After all, the woman looked like her face had been caught in a garbage disposal and then repaired by a wild pack of clowns. She was also insanely jealous of me. Not because of my looks (my blue eyes and shoulder-length, blonde waves were my best features but nothing spectacular). It was because I had been marked by King with a “K” tattoo on the underside of my wrist. I’d been just as shocked, or really more outraged, by it as she had when we first met at that party. Not only did it mean I belonged to King, it made me practically untouchable by anyone in 10 Club. Later, I’d learn that his mark was so much more than that, but in any case, Talia hated me from the very first moment.

I stepped down off the stairs and took the letter from her anorexic hand. I opened it and began to read, but the words made no sense. It was as if they’d been written in Shakespearean English.

“What’s it mean?” I asked.

She slid a cigarette from her white leather handbag and lit it, blowing the smoke into the air like she’d just experienced some great orgasmic satisfaction by giving me that letter. She flicked her ashes on the cement floor and then smiled. “Have you seen King lately?”

Why did I feel as if this was a trick question? “He’s been busy,” I lied, trying to act casual, like I simply hung out at this creepy warehouse all the time, doing work for the man.

“Oh, really?” Her left eye twitched a bit, like she was trying to unstick the lid.

“Yes. Really. Why?” I asked.

“Well, I haven’t seen him, and neither has anyone else. That’s what the letter says.”

I shrugged, trying not to disclose my true feelings on the matter. It was something that Mack had told me about 10 Club: never let them know your weaknesses. In my book, that meant never showing fear, love, or desire for anything or anyone. They’d simply use it to exploit you—a 10 Club obsession.

“And,” Talia added, “he didn’t appear for a summons from the 10 Club a few weeks ago.”

Again I shrugged, hiding my escalating nervousness. Because I guessed that like King, she didn’t do anything if there wasn’t a purpose to it. That meant she wasn’t simply there to deliver a letter from the twisted, cut-throat billionaire club she and King belonged to. The sole purpose of that club, by the way, was to help its members obtain things that money couldn’t buy. At least, not legally. People, power, rare objects…nothing was off the table.

“I’m sure you know by now that King does what he likes when he likes,” I said coolly.

Talia laughed and took another drag of her cigarette, then tossed it onto the floor. “Yeah, well, even King has to come when 10 Club calls. Read the rules. You’re his toy, so I’m sure you can find them and sneak a peek.”

I had no clue where to find the rules, and I hated that she called me his toy, but I suspected that’s why she’d said it.

She turned to leave but then stopped. “Oh, and by the way, Mia, I’d pay special attention to rule five. It clearly states that any member who does not uphold their end of a deal with another member forfeits their property to the Club as compensation to the damaged party.”

Crap. I swallowed, unable to hide my emotions. I was King’s property—their rules, not mine. That was the bomb she’d come to deliver.

Talia flashed a lopsided grin, knowing she’d gotten under my skin. “I hear that Vaughn is looking forward to getting his hands on you. Something about…wanting to hear you scream in agony?” She shook her head, laughing. “Gotta love the man. He’s a sick fucker.”

No, I didn’t “gotta.” And yes, yes, he was. The man, a slimy, sadistic billionaire—like the rest of the 10 Club members—enjoyed collecting unique and beautiful women just to torture and kill them. He was also 10 Club’s president, which gave a solid understanding of the sort of people they were. It also explained why the thought of becoming his nearly made my knees buckle.

“I’ll let King know you came by,” I said with a sugary-sweet voice.

Talia narrowed her dark, mascara-caked eyes. “King has twenty-four hours to deliver on all pending deals, or he will be deemed a forfeiter. His property, all of it, will be confiscated.”

She strolled out of the warehouse with a victory swagger and shut the entrance door behind her.

Holy shit. This can’t be happening. I glanced at my watch. It was almost seven p.m.

I groaned and sank onto the step, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes. “Crap.” I let out a slow, dread-filled breath. “King, where the hell are you?”

This was bad. So, so bad. And here, stupid me had been worried about King’s wellbeing, completely unaware that my own life was about to get run over and turned into a horrific nightmare.

Why was I surprised? Since the day I’d met King, my life kept getting scarier, weirder, and insanely complicated. But dammit, King, why didn’t you tell me about any of this? Likely because he told me only what I needed to know in order to get me to do his bidding. After all, in his eyes, I wasn’t his equal, but his property. His to control, his to use, his to play with.

And now your survival depends on him. If I tried to disappear, not only would it destroy my mother—whose health was extremely fragile after a recent stroke—but I guessed that the Club would find me. They had their ways.

Damn. I needed to find King. Quickly. But it wasn’t as if the man was on vacation. Something bad had happened. I felt it in my gut.

I dug into my jeans pocket for my phone and dialed my brother, Justin. He’d been the last person to speak with King that I knew of.

Justin’s phone rang, but it went to voice mail. “Justin, it’s Mia. We need to talk about that night again. I need to find King.” I sighed. “Dammit. Call me back. I’m in deep shit.”

I looked at the time again and felt my stomach turn into a vicious knot. The clock was ticking. I hope to God, King, that you brought me here for a reason. And that the reason was to help me find him.

CHAPTER TWO

Armed with a broom handle I’d found inside a small closet on the first floor, I made my way through the dimly lit second story of King’s warehouse. It looked very much like the first floor—shelves crammed with an odd assortment of items that reached the ceiling—however, not long after, I understood why the atmosphere was so foreboding: this floor contained King’s arsenal of objects with special powers. I knew because the bad energy practically jumped off the stuff and pounded me in the face.

There were more books and statues, bottles of strange liquids, including some that looked like blood, and horrific-looking weapons—battleaxes, maces, and spears. Yeah, this time I think I did see Excalibur (the sword, not the car).

Then there were the two heads in giant jars. Men’s heads. One with red hair and the other blond, both with wide-open eyes and mouths frozen in screams. Red lights, lights only I could see, oozed from the tops of the jars into a puddle on the floor.

Why the hell does King have heads? I glanced down and saw red all over my chest. I jumped. Holy Christ! But it was just my red sweater.

Reminder: don’t wear red anymore. Bad idea.

I stepped away from the puddles and then yelped again. No. No…Their eyes seemed to follow me, but that couldn’t be possible.

I stumbled back, falling flat on my ass. I sprang to my feet, but my head immediately began to pound and swirl. Ugh. Not now, Mia. Not now…

King had told me it was the effect of my brain struggling to reconcile conflicting realities. My old reality was the normal one most of us grow up with: a fair, just world with laws to protect us, and where people didn’t put other people’s heads in jars. My new world was the opposite. The new one scared the hell out of me.

I braced myself on the shelf to my side while the sensation passed. As my headache cleared, I noticed the sound of gnawing, like a dog chewing a bone. I looked up, and on the shelf were several tiny potted flowers that seemed to be reaching for my hand.

“Shit!” I snapped my hand back. What the fuck? My head started to spin again. Being near these items was not only freaking me the hell out, but it was taxing my body and mind. The items were just too powerful. Which was also why I couldn’t understand how King left this stuff out. There was only one lock on the front door. That was it. No security system. No guard dogs. Yet there was a ton of stuff he wouldn’t want people to steal. Stuff like a jewel-encrusted gold crown that sat in a small, unlocked, glass display case. It was exquisite with several large aquamarine-colored gems, beautiful red garnets, and several nice-sized diamonds, including one that looked to be several carats and seemed to radiate its own light.

“Wow. I want a diamond like that,” I mumbled aloud and reached for the case, wanting to get a better look.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you. There are traps all over the place,” said a deep, familiar male voice.

Startled, I snapped back my hand. It took a moment to recognize the man in front of me because he’d covered up his blond hair with a Giants baseball cap and wore a gray hoodie. Not his usual look.

“Mack! Oh my God!” I ran and threw my arms around his neck. “Where have you been?”

My weight knocked him off balance, and he stumbled back a few steps. “Errr…nice to see you, too?” He peeled me off.

“Where have you been?”

“Laying low and keeping an eye on this place for King.” He flashed that easygoing, boyish grin I appreciated in moments like these. I appreciated it almost as much as his ability to make me feel safe or fly a jet with zero turbulence. Mack was an ex-military-pilot-something with a shady past who ended up working for King after getting mixed up with a sadistic woman in 10 Club. In Mack’s own words, “I knew I needed to get away, so King helped me.” I still didn’t know exactly what had been done to Mack, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

“What the hell happened to King?” I asked frantically.

Mack shook his head toward the floor and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “I wish I knew.”

“So do I.” I thrust the letter at him, and he read it quickly. Unlike me, he knew exactly what it all meant.

“Fuck.”

“That was pretty much my reaction, too,” I said. “Talia delivered it.”

His baby blues lit up. “Talia? This is bad. She was one of King’s biggest allies. Fucking Vaughn.”

“Is that who’s behind this?” Not that I felt surprised. Vaughn was, hands down, King’s biggest adversary as well as the Club’s president.

“Who else would be insane enough, and pissed off enough, to try to take King down?”

I’d have to trust Mack on that because, frankly, I didn’t know the other club members, although I’d seen them at the annual party I attended a few weeks back. There were congressmen, famous actors, and CEOs of large companies. It was shocking how many people had ten billion plus in the bank and a yearning for evil. Both were requirements to belong.

“Mack, I know it’s none of my business, but are you considered part of the inventory like I am?” I waved my hands through the air at all of the stuff crammed on the shelves.

Mack smirked. “King didn’t brand me, nor would he ever, if that’s what you’re asking. But I am under his employ, so to speak, and if the vultures move in, I’m fair game. So is Arno.” Arno was King’s chauffeur and the world’s quietest man.

“So the Club will take you guys, too?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Oh no. So now we’d gone from King being missing to my life going down the tubes, to Arno and Mack coming along for the ride. The shit kept piling on.

Okay. Stay calm. You can figure this out. And luckily, Mack was now there with me. He knew way more about this secret world than I did.

“Talia mentioned the rules. Do you know what they are?” I asked.

Mack scratched his jaw covered in golden-brown stubble. “I read them a few years ago, when…” he hesitated, “when Miranda first inducted me.”

Miranda was the psycho woman he’d belonged to at one point. I only knew that because he’d mentioned her name once, and I’d never forget the look in his eyes when he had. He hated her. He hated thinking about her, talking about her, and I’m sure he never wanted to see her again. Whatever she’d done to him had to have been pretty bad.

“And the rules I remember aren’t going to help us.” Mack began rattling off the policies pertaining to the Club members’ secrecy obligations. Members were also not permitted to kill other members, nor could they attempt to acquire another member’s possession if marked off-limits. And by “possession,” I assumed they meant “person.” Mack had told me that was the reason King had tattooed me with a “K.” He didn’t want anyone making a play for me, a disturbing fact that triggered feelings of both relief and outrage. Because while the concept of being someone else’s property is archaic and belittling, “belonging” to a man like King was like being the property of a god. An evil god, but powerful nonetheless. And a part of me felt a little bit safer knowing I couldn’t be traded away, willy-nilly, to some psycho like Vaughn.

Not that I accepted being King’s property. Because I didn’t. And I never would.

Mack continued on about some other random stuff having to do with membership fees.

“How much are the dues?” I asked.

“A billion dollars,” he replied. “Roughly.”

Oh my Lord. “That’s steep. What’s the money used for?”

Mack shrugged. “I can only assume for bribes. The purpose of the Club is to support the members’ pursuits, most of which are illegal. I’m sure the money also pays for the other privileges they enjoy—expediting border crossings to just about any country with no questions asked, immunity from the IRS, body disposal, etc.”

“Lovely. So the Club basically gives them diplomatic immunity—completely above the law.”

“Yes. The only laws that matter are the Club rules, and they’ll even break those if they can get away with it.”

I gave that a moment of thought. It was the strange thing about 10 Club; they were a secret society of some of the most influential, wealthy, and cut-throat people. They bartered with each other, creating a network of sorts to support their illicit fetishes, quests for power, or whatever things they wanted or needed that couldn’t be obtained through traditional channels. And from what I saw, they had no scruples or objections to breaking laws, including killing people. However, they seemed to be afraid of pissing off the Club. I supposed it made sense to not want a bunch of psychos after you.

You would know, wouldn’t you?

“What about the crap in this letter?” I pointed to the paper still in Mack’s hand.

“I only know that agreements between members, verbal or written, are considered binding. And failure to meet one’s obligations is grounds for immediate expulsion from the Club. All assets of the forfeiting member become property of 10 Club.”

That was a pretty large deterrent for welshers, but unfortunately, those rules only reconfirmed the heap of shit we were in. “Are there more rules?” I asked.

“Yes, but I don’t remember them.”

“Where does King keep his copy?” I asked.

Mack’s eyes floated up.

“Upstairs?”

“Yes,” he replied, “but the third floor is his private chamber. It’s got traps and spells and—”

“Did you just say ‘spells,’ as in magic?”

“Yes. Why?” Mack asked.

“I called all of this crazy stuff magic, but King insists it’s not.”

He shrugged. “You can call a duck anything you like, but it’s still a duck.”

True.

“Just like the crazy crap you do,” he added. “It reeks of quacking.”

“I’m not a duck,” I argued. “I just have a weird gift.”

Mack looked at me as if he were questioning the ever-loving difference.

Fine, whatever. “I’m going upstairs.”

“No. You need to stay the hell away from there.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me back.

“Mack, in twenty-four hours, those psycho bastards from the Club are going to come and stake their flags in our asses. I think at this point, I’ll take the risk of going upstairs.”

Mack rested one hand on his waist and stared at the floor. “We’ll go upstairs, but don’t do anything stupid. Just—just follow me.”

“Have you been up there before?” I asked.

“No. No one goes up there. Unless they have a death wish.”

“Well, check that box.” I marched off toward the stairs.

“Are you out of your mind?” Mack pulled me back again. “I’m not letting you go first. If anything happens to you, King would kill me. Let me go first.”

I didn’t want him getting hurt, either, but he wasn’t really asking. Mack stepped around me, leaving me staring at his broad back as we ascended cautiously. I wanted to poke him in that nice rear of his to make him move faster. Tick tock, buddy!

“So,” he said, his eyes cautiously scanning each stair we stepped on, “what do you think happened to King?”

My guess was the same as his; Vaughn had taken him. Ironically, the bastard was also the reason I’d gotten mixed up in this shame-of-a-fucking-mess to begin with. My brother had, for unknown reasons, gone to Vaughn for funding to support his archaeology pursuits. In exchange, Vaughn wanted first rights to anything Justin unearthed. When that object became the Artifact, my brother instantly knew it was something powerful, perhaps dangerous in the wrong hands, and ran. That’s when I got sucked in.

“The last time I saw King was at the hospital,” I whispered. “He said he was going to meet with my brother, get the Artifact, and then answer a summons from 10 Club. According to Talia, he never showed up to the summons. And according to my brother, King never showed up to meet him either.”

Two more steps.

“Why are you whispering?” Mack asked.

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when approaching something dangerous?” I whispered again.

Another step.

“This isn’t Scooby Doo. So, do you believe him? Your brother?” Mack asked in his regular voice.

The air became thick and heavy, like it was filled with rotting souls and toxic vapors from hell. Why in the world would King want to live in a place like this?

“Justin has no reason to lie to me,” I replied quietly. “If he says that King called and told him to leave the Artifact in an empty apartment, that’s what happened.”

Two more steps.

“What do you think happened to King?” I whispered.

“Stop whispering; it’s making me nervous. And like I said, I think Vaughn happened. No one else is crazy enough to go after King.”

If true, I could only imagine what sorts of horrific things Vaughn might be doing to him. Because the last time the two had seen each other was at that stupid party I keep referring to, when King ripped off Vaughn’s arm for touching me. Yes, he’d touched me in a bad way. No, I didn’t feel bad about the arm; the lunatic had it coming.

We got to the small landing, where the stairs turned in the opposite direction, giving us a partial view of the third floor.

“It’s completely dark,” Mack said. It was the first time I’d ever seen him anxious. Mack, who served in Iraq doing a “special assignment” and made it clear he was a deadly sort of guy, was not one to scare easily. The fact his brow was covered with a light sheen of sweat only amplified my own fear.

I began to hum “Twist and Shout” by the Beatles.

Mack looked at me and ran his hand through his messy, short, blond hair. “Why do you always hum Beatles songs when you’re nervous?”

“How did you know that?” To my knowledge, this was the first time I’d done it in front of him.

Mack shrugged. “King told me about it. Said he thought it was cute.”

I blinked a few times. King had been talking about me to Mack? And said something I did was cute?

“In a very annoying, childish sort of way,” Mack added.

Oh. That was more like it. King wasn’t one to sit around gushing with words of adoration. That said, I thought it was a bit strange King spoke of me at all. He wasn’t a conversationalist.

“What else did King say?” I asked.

Mack shook his head. “We’d be here all night.” He pointed up the stairs toward the darkened room. “But if we survive this, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Promise?” I asked.

Mack held up his hand. “King’s honor.”

“Cute. I’m sure…” I forgot what I was about to say. The colors began popping all around me, swirling over the stairs, ceiling, and walls. This entire building had been coated in some sort of bad energy, probably to warn people away, but the energy up on the third floor felt much different, intense.

“Do you see anything up there?” Mack asked. What he meant was if I could see anything with my gift.

“Lots and lots of colors, but nothing in particular.” I flashed a worried look at Mack. “Should we keep going?”

Mack drew in a quick breath. “It’s now or never.”

Following closely behind, I dug my phone from my pocket again and turned on the flashlight app. The moment we got to the top of the stairs, I shined it toward the dark room, but the space was far too large to see anything.

Mack reached to the side and began searching for a light switch. “There.” He flipped the switch, and I braced for an explosion or flying, spring-loaded daggers or something. But nothing happened. In fact…

“I don’t get it,” I whispered, staring at a big empty room equal in size to the ones below us, but with a much lower ceiling. There was absolutely nothing aside from the cement floors, undressed windows, and a few industrial lights hanging overhead.

“Neither do I,” Mack agreed.

I scratched my head. “Why is King’s entire warehouse coated with colors, but this place looks like it’s been wiped clean?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s spotless. Not a splash of color.” I blew out a breath. “Am I missing something? Something King wanted me to find?”

“Speaking of find, how did you find this place?” Mack asked suddenly. “King only brings people he trusts here.”

Jeez. Thanks. “Then why did Talia show up?”

Mack raised a brow. “She and King used to have a relationship.”

I felt my blood thicken. “He lied to me. He said he had better standards than that.”

Mack chuckled. “You’re jealous.”

“No, I’m not.” Maybe. “But why would he lie?”

“I don’t think King ever slept with her; they were partners for a while. That doesn’t mean, however, that Talia didn’t try for years to hook the guy. But you never answered my question. How did you find out about this place?”

“I found a key in King’s office. It was taped under the desk with this.” I slipped the card from my jeans pocket and gave it to him.

Mack inspected it. “Did you check out slot ninety-two?” He pointed to the card. I’d forgotten that there was a number scribbled in the corner. “King has me retrieve things from here all the time. Each item is assigned a number. Ninety-two is on the second floor.”

He turned right around and headed downstairs. I hesitated to follow. I didn’t want to go back down there with the heads and weird flowers and other crazy crap that gave me a headache. It was quiet up here.

“Mia? Are you coming?” Mack asked.

I shook my head. “I think I’ll stay here.”

He looked at me, slightly shocked. “You’re afraid? You?”

I grimaced. “A little, yes.”

He flashed one of those disarming, goofy smiles. “I promise you’re safe with me. Alone up here, however…”

I looked over my shoulder. All right. Maybe it was a bit creepy up there. I sucked in some air and reluctantly followed.

Once back downstairs on the second floor, Mack headed straight to the far, right-hand-side aisle where the objects were so densely packed in some spots that I was sure we’d never find anything.

“Where are the numbers? How do you know where to look?” I asked.

“It’s a little tricky. King keeps items ordered by numbers and grouped by their powers or function. The numbers usually start in the northeast corner of each floor. Right here.” He pointed to the first item on the top of the first rack.

He began counting objects, passing several dusty crates and boxes. He stopped right at the middle of the aisle. “Ninety-two.”

“Are you afraid of those traps?” I asked.

Mack looked at me. “I have…” he scratched his scruffy, gold-whiskered chin, “a sort of immunity. Think of it like King has a guard dog watching over this place. Only the dog is a spell that recognizes people.” Mack shrugged.

Okay. Weird.

“Do you think I’m immune, too?” I asked.

“Yeah, probably,” he replied casually. “But you still want to be careful touching stuff around here. Some of these things are dangerous.”

Mack always acted so nonchalant about everything. It completely boggled my mind.

He walked over to the corner, grabbed a rickety wooden ladder, and set it against the steel rack. I held the bottom and cringed as it creaked under Mack’s weight.

“Careful,” I said.

Mack flashed me a look that indicated the freaking ladder was the last thing to be worrying about.

About halfway up, he began digging through a pile of small boxes. “Here it is.”

He lowered himself and held out a small, red velvet box.

I looked at his hand. “What is it?”

“I have no idea, but it has your name on the tag.”

“Really?” I took the box and read the small paper tag. My name was written clearly on one side.

How odd. What could it possibly be? I opened it and wished I hadn’t. It looked just like the diamond I’d been drooling over only minutes before.

“Uhhh…uhhh…” I looked into Mack’s seriously confused eyes. “I’m sure this isn’t what you think.”

“It looks like a huge rock,” he said blandly, “the kind women wear as engagement rings.”

“Yeah, I get that, but we are not in a relationship. I mean, we almost…” I snapped my mouth shut.

Mack crossed his arms. “Almost what?”

I sighed. How could I explain this to Mack in a way that would make sense? I mean, King possessed an irresistible, seductive charm along with raw sexual appeal. I couldn’t have been the first woman to hate him and want him.

And hate him some more.

After wanting him just a little more.

And feeling disgusted with myself for it.

“Don’t be so judgy,” I said. “Emotions were high—things got out of hand—but we stopped.” Actually, I stopped King the moment he said that sex would be my punishment for disobeying him. It was a disturbingly dark and twisted thing to say—shocked the urges right out of me. But a few days later, when he came to the hospital to help my comatose mother after she’d had a stroke, King allowed me to catch a glimpse of the real him. Reds and blues, the colors of pain and sorrow, violently encircled his anguished body, creating a cloud so thick that they blended into a deep purple. I could taste the pain inside his soul, and it was then that I knew when he shared his real self, he had to share his anguish. It was a part of him. I think that was why he considered having sex with him a “punishment.” I wasn’t sure. The only thing I knew for certain was that King was a complex creature, motivated by his suffering, driven toward one final goal, though I didn’t know what that was.

“I think,” I mumbled, “that King never does anything without a reason. But I know getting engaged isn’t on his list of to-dos.”

Mack lifted his brows.

“Come on,” I chided. “We’re talking about King. Do you honestly think he’s the type to give a girl an engagement ring? Especially me?” Not that I had a clue as to why he’d give me a ring at all. But with King, I suspected there was an ulterior motive. One that would be revealed when King was damn good and ready.

Mack gave me a strange look and then glanced at his watch. “We have twenty-three hours.”

“Did you just sidestep my question?” I felt like he was hiding something from me. Then again, I felt that way about everyone in King’s world.

“That wasn’t a sidestep; that was me remembering we’re screwed.”

I shot him a look. “Nice.” I didn’t need to hear words of defeat in this moment. What I needed was a way out. “Did King keep a list of his deals or anything?”

Mack shook his head. “He always called with instructions—pick up, drop off, go see so-and-so. I never saw a list.”

“Talia said that there were specific deals King had to fulfill or he’d forfeit his assets. Does that mean other members reported him?”

“Probably, but only after being forced into it by Vaughn.”

“Can we find out who?” I asked.

Mack scratched his chin again. “Maybe. But what are you implying?”

“That we are going to fulfill King’s obligations?” I said sheepishly.

“No.”

“Do you see any other option?” It wasn’t as if there was anything in his warehouse that would help us find King, which once again left me wondering why King wanted me to find the place. If that had been his intent.

“Mia, you have no idea of what King really does. It’s not like the man is swapping recipes. These are serious people, sick people, ruthless people who would slit your throat for looking at them the wrong way. And the shit King does for them is sometimes,” he paused, “you don’t want to know.”

How bad could it be? “Oh no. Does King…traffic women, too?”

“No.” Mack looked offended. “And before you ask, anything having to do with minors is off limits. The Club members, thankfully, consider it unsportsmanlike to go after such easy acquisitions.” It was a relief, actually. I wasn’t sure how low they went. “And anyone who is ‘acquired’ or part of a deal has to come willingly; there must be an offer and an acceptance.”

The only sad part was that the non-member generally had no clue what they were getting into.

“Is that another rule?” I asked.

“More like an unspoken policy. They won’t lower themselves to doing things that are perceived as stealing; it degrades the tradition of 10 Club.”

Degrades? That was funny, given that these people couldn’t possibly get much lower. No, they weren’t pedophiles, but their sanction of murder, torture of women, and enslavement of people practically landed them in the same boat.

Okay. So what else? What could King be up to that I couldn’t handle? “What’s the worst thing you’ve seen King do?”

Mack stared at me. I could tell he was debating whether to answer. “He’s killed people.”

“That I already knew.” I’d basically seen King kill two guys who’d threatened us. They were Vaughn’s.

“Did you see the heads?” he asked.

I nodded.

“King put them in those jars.” Mack swallowed. “They’re still alive.”

My eyes popped out of my head. “Jesus. You can’t be serious.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, Mia. King isn’t just trading things; he sells his services. Those men did something to piss someone off. That someone hired King to bring back their heads. He did.”

“In fucking jars? Still alive? How’s that even possible?”

Mack shrugged. “I gave up asking ‘how’ a long, long time ago. As for the why, he’d said those two men did something that required a few decades of suffering. Whoever hired him didn’t want the heads lying around, so they asked King to hold on to them.”

Holy Christ. I knew that King was powerful. And dark. But this was pretty bad. Despite all that, however, what choice did we have but to attempt to fulfill King’s obligations? If we came across something we weren’t able to do, then that was that. But we had to try.

“We need to get the list,” I said. “Don’t you know anyone that owes you a favor?”

Mack ran his hands through his hair, clearly mulling over the situation. “We can’t let anyone know King is AWOL. Otherwise, the members won’t accept the debts as being paid by King. They’ll see it as cheating. Our cheating.”

Ridiculous! Why would it matter who paid the debt, just as long as it was paid? These people were so frigging bizarre.

“And we’ll need to find him before anyone realizes the truth,” Mack added.

Well, likely Vaughn had him, though we weren’t one hundred percent sure. But if we were right, it wasn’t like Vaughn would just stick King in the guest bedroom at his L.A. mansion.

I sighed, thinking it over. “I’m going to the hospital to talk to Justin.” My mother was still under observation after her stroke, and we’d all been taking turns staying with her; I might find my brother there now. Maybe he knew something but was too afraid to say.

“Come straight here when you’re done,” Mack said. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see a friend.”

“Friend got a name?” I asked.

“Yes. But they’re a Club member, and if they decide to help us, they won’t want anyone to know.”

Okay…I had no choice but to trust he knew what he was doing.

It then struck me as odd. A couple of weeks ago, I wouldn’t have dared trust Mack—not this much, anyway. But now he felt like my savior. I’d trust him with my life.

“Please be careful,” I said. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

“Awww. Isn’t that sweet.” Mack turned to leave.

“By the way, what happened to Arno?” Arno was King’s chauffeur, who always appeared mysteriously driving a black SUV. It didn’t matter which country. It was unsettling.

“I’m sure he’s gone into hiding. He knows the drill.”

“Drill?” I asked.

“King gave us very specific instructions of what to do should anything ever happen.”

“What were your instructions?”

Mack smiled. “Not to come looking, and to get the hell away from here.” He disappeared down the stairs.

I supposed that, like me, Mack had a strange loyalty to King. Then I wondered how evil King could really be if two good people saw enough redeeming qualities in the man to care about him.

Maybe we are King’s redeeming qualities.

I looked back down at the ring in my hand and noticed it had an unusual shimmer to it, just like the one in that crown. But what did I know about diamonds other than this one was huge? And King wanted me to find it. There was no way any of this was a coincidence. I knew that for sure now. The little card that came with the key had the number ninety-two written on it.

Why does this all feel so contrived? Like we were rats being herded into a labyrinth. In any case, we didn’t have much choice but to push forward and hope that a slice of cheese awaited us.

I shoved the ring deep into my jeans pocket and glanced at my watch. Quarter to eight already? Where in the hell are you, King?

CHAPTER THREE

8:00 P.M.

When I arrived at my mother’s flower-filled hospital room, I was thrilled to see her sitting up, laughing with my father and brother, watching something on TV. In fact, seeing them really made me hit pause and take a moment. Everyone was together, safe and alive. Happy. Well, almost everyone. I tried not to think about how, by this time tomorrow, things might be different. I might be out of their lives forever.

What would that do to my mother’s health? What would that do to my father? Christ. I couldn’t believe this. About six weeks ago, when Justin went on the run from Vaughn and disappeared, I’d been sick to my stomach, worrying how it might impact everyone. Now, my life was on the line, threatening everyone’s happiness.

Well, better me than Justin. I couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to my baby brother.

“Mia!” My mother’s powder-blue eyes lit up when she caught sight of me in the doorway.

“Hey there.” I made a little wave. “Nice to see you’re feeling better.” I moved to the foot of her bed. “Only one more day and you’re out, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. But your father says he’s not going to let me do any shopping, and the holidays are coming soon.” An image of them sitting around the table at Christmas dinner without me popped into my head. It felt like a knife in my heart. It would just kill them if I didn’t fix this.

I swallowed the sadness building in my chest.

“Something wrong, sweetie?” my mother asked.

I forced my mouth into a smile. “No. I’m happy, that’s all.” I looked at Justin, who wore black jeans and a sweatshirt. We had the same wavy blond hair, only his was pretty short. Mine was cut into a shoulder-length bob. I’d also had it highlighted a few months ago and hadn’t gone for a touch-up, so the color was growing out in a sad kind of way. I guess after everything that had happened recently, it didn’t seem important.

“Can I talk to you, Justin? Outside?”

His eyes shifted a bit. “Sure.”

I smiled at my parents. “It’s a little surprise we’re working on.”

He followed me out through the waiting area into the stairwell. “What surprise?”

I turned and looked at him, trying my best not to flip out. “King is missing. You have to tell me what you know.”

He didn’t seem at all shocked, which meant I’d been right. He did know something. Nevertheless, he said, “I don’t know anything. I already told you.”

“Tell me again, Justin,” I growled. “Because I’m in serious shit. If I don’t find King, 10 Club is going to confiscate his property. All of it.”

I hadn’t shown Justin my tattoo. In fact, I’d been wearing mostly long-sleeved clothes to cover it up. I hadn’t decided what to do when summer finally rolled around. Now, I guess I might not have to worry.

“Look.” I pulled back the sleeve of my red sweater. “I’m his property, Justin. Me.”

Justin’s green eyes widened. “Fuck! Mia. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would I say? That I agreed to be some crazy, rich guy’s assistant for the rest of my life to save you? What good would that do?”

“Motherfucker!” Justin ran his hands through his hair. “How? How did this happen?” he fumed.

Don’t get me wrong. Justin was my “little” brother, a year younger than me, but he was a huge guy, like my dad. He could’ve been a linebacker if he’d wanted, but his passion had been bones and stones, aka archaeology. Regardless, when he got mad, he was pretty scary.

“I’ll fucking kill him! Did King touch you?” Justin asked.

I wasn’t expecting Justin to be happy, but his reaction was much more emotional than I expected.

I held out my hands, trying to calm him. “No one’s touched me.” Exactly.

“Don’t lie to me, Mia.” He grabbed my wrist. “I know what that means. It’s a brand members use to mark their significant other.”

My brain did a double take. “What do you mean, ‘significant other’?”

He shook his head. “Mia, you know exactly what I mean.”

“You mean spouse?” But that wouldn’t make any sense.

“No. Spouses can be divorced.”

I blinked several times, and my brain started to cramp.

“You really don’t know?” he asked.

“No. I really, really don’t.” But he was scaring the hell out of me.

“King claimed you as his.”

“Yeah, I know. As his property,” I argued, trying to avoid the slippery slope I feared was coming.

“No. It means you’re his most prized possession. It means he’s chosen you to…” Justin cleared his throat, “be his.”

I felt my blood pressure plummet. “Meaning?”

“It’s like,” he searched for the words, “you’re married, but there is no divorce option—only death.”

“What? That’s not possible. He doesn’t…We’re not…I mean—he would have told me…”I stopped my ridiculous thought right there. “Married?”

“Married isn’t the right word. It’s more like an extreme form of ownership. The Club members are allowed to make one person completely off-limits. Most of them pick someone they love or at least want. A lot. Romantically.”

Huh? That couldn’t be right. It just…couldn’t. “How do you know all this?”

Justin hesitated for a moment. “I, uh…went to Vaughn’s place once. I saw another woman with a brand and asked about it. Hers was a ‘V.’”

I wanted to stop and allow myself a moment to feel extreme pity for that woman because there could be no worse fate in this world than belonging to Vaughn. However, my mind was too busy reeling with powerful emotions of my own. King had branded me, but not just as his property. He’d branded me as his…his…I didn’t know what to call it.

“I didn’t agree to this!” I protested in vain. “And he never said anything.”

“Look at the man, Mia. Do you think him or any of the people in that club ask permission?”

“No. I saw him sleep with some random woman.” I didn’t actually see King having sex with her, but he had. And he’d made no apologies for it either. Not that I would expect one because we weren’t a couple. Still, the weirdest part had been that she looked like me, and I could’ve sworn he wanted me to see them together, that he’d wanted to make me jealous.

Justin slowly shook his head. “Only the person wearing the mark has to be monogamous, Mia. He owns you, not the other way around.”

Holy Christ. I held my hand over my mouth. Did King really think he could possess me like this? As his exclusive sex toy, whom he could do with as he pleased? Then there was the issue that the tattoo could be used by King to track me down at any time. With it, he could also control me like a mindless robot by merely laying his hand over it.

“Did the woman say anything about,” I swallowed, knowing how ridiculous I would sound, “her tattoo’s powers or how to remove it?”

Justin looked at me kind of funny. “No.” He shook his head hesitantly. “The tattoo didn’t have any powers. Why are you asking?”

“Are you sure? Did you ask her?”

“No, Mia. But as far as I saw, it was a tattoo. Nothing else. Are you saying yours…does stuff?”

“Everything. For him, anyway.” I covered my face and groaned, putting all the pieces together. When King and I went to Palenque in search of Justin, King lured me to an ancient Mayan temple. Scared out of my mind, I passed out. And when I woke up the next morning, I discovered he’d tattooed me. Yes, while I was passed out, the bastard. Then he’d said that he “borrowed” some of the temple’s energy to unlock my Seer abilities and to mark me. But, of course, this was just another of King’s half-truths. Because he didn’t just mark me with a letter “K,” he’d somehow connected us with it. And now, I understood the full meaning. He’d performed some creepy, 10 Club marriage ritual and gave it the “King special upgrade.” Dammit. The bastard even served me champagne that night before we left!

Then I started thinking about all of the other weird stuff he’d said. How he’d admitted once that he wanted me but was willing to wait like he had all the time in the world. It was because he believed he did. What was the hurry when he already owned me and saw me as his personal game of sexual chess?

Then, stupid me, I’d believed that his actions—saving my mother and my brother—were signs of genuine compassion. But the man was simply manipulating me, wanting to see if he could win me over. After all, it was always about the challenge for the Club’s members, wasn’t it? King was no exception.

Fuck. And what an ass I’d been.

Justin floated his hand over my back. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t gotten involved with Vaughn, none of this would have happened.”

Oh my God. Vaughn…This just kept getting worse. I hadn’t told Justin about the party or the fact that Vaughn attacked me and lost his arm when King tore it off of him.

“Well,” I said, “if you know how depraved Vaughn is, then you understand my life is over no matter what I do. If I don’t find King, Vaughn plans to take me.” And pick the flesh from my bones, as he’d said. “If I find King, then I end up being his prized toy.”

Justin looked livid. I felt livid. One man wanted to kill me. The other wanted to own me—inside and out.

Don’t give up, Mia. Yes, my chances of living if I ended up in Vaughn’s hands were zero. However, my chances of living in King’s hands were good. If King survived, I would, too. That meant I’d also live to find a way out of being “his.”

Bastard can want me, but he’ll never have me.

“Justin, you have to tell me,” I pleaded, “anything you know. Anything at all about where to find King.”

He covered his face and groaned with frustration. “Fuck.”

“Stop saying that. Tell me what happened with Vaughn. King told me you were planning a trap or something.”

Justin bobbed his head. “Vaughn had been hunting me for weeks and finally found me. When he did, he made it clear that he’d kill me, you, Mom, and Dad because I welched on our deal and ran with the Artifact. He said all I had to do was call King and set up a meeting and use the Artifact as bait. That was it.”

“Then what happened?” I asked.

“Not much. I contacted King and set up the meeting. Later, though, he called and said Mom was sick. He also knew Vaughn was pulling my strings, but promised to ‘take care’ of him.”

I knew that wasn’t the entire story because with King, there had to be a deal. “What did he want in return?”

“Not much. He just asked me to deliver the Artifact and continue pretending to work for Vaughn.”

“And the last time you spoke to King? Did you see him in person?” I asked.

“No. He called. He told me to drop the Artifact at some address in London, which turned out to be an empty apartment. Then he said to get on a plane home.”

I scratched my head. “And you’re sure it was King calling you?”

Justin shrugged. “It sounded like him.”

“Did you get a look at the Artifact?”

“Yes. I’m the one who dug it up.”

“What is it?” I couldn’t believe Justin had actually seen it.

“A rock.”

“A rock?” I asked. I guess I’d been expecting an ancient tablet or some sort of holy relic like a grail. But a rock?

“Actually, I guess it’s more of a stone. About the size of a grape.”

“What does it do?” I asked.

Justin shook his head. “I don’t have a fucking clue, but when I held that thing in my hand, it practically burned a hole right through it. And…”

“What?”

Justin scratched his head. “I don’t really know how to explain it. It made me see things. Horrible things.”

“Like what?”

He stared at his feet for a moment and shrugged. “They were faces of people screaming and crying.”

I cringed. “What did they say?”

“I couldn’t understand them, but whatever that rock is, it’s evil. Really evil.”

I blew out a breath. The Artifact was a rock. An evil rock. “Didn’t Vaughn mention anything?”

Justin shook his head no. “Not really. He said it was a stupid, worthless piece of crap that only King would be foolish enough to trade his life for. In fact, Vaughn couldn’t understand why I’d run when I found it.”

“Why did you run?” Because when he had, Vaughn killed Justin’s entire team in retribution.

Justin shrugged. “I got scared. I knew the Artifact was something dangerous and was going to get rid of it, but I couldn’t shake Vaughn’s men. Of course, the fact they were after me only confirmed it was something they shouldn’t have. They’re not nice people, Mia.”

“Dammit, Justin.” I shook my head. None of this had to happen. “So the last time you talked to King was right before you dropped the Artifact in the empty apartment in London?”

“Yes.”

All right. King knew Vaughn would be waiting but would have attempted to retrieve the Artifact anyway. King said he would be prepared, so had something gone wrong? Or had they snagged King before he even got to the apartment?

“I’m hosed. Hosed.” I looked at my watch. Now I felt like King, always checking the time. Only King had a weird tattoo of a sundial on his wrist that he looked at instead. I never learned why. “I have to go. Tell Mom and Dad I’ll be back in the morning.” I hoped.

“Wait.” Justin grabbed my arm to prevent me from leaving. “Where are you going?”

“I have less than twenty-four hours to make good on King’s debts or I’m toast.”

“Let me talk to Vaughn,” Justin argued. “Maybe I can make a deal with him.”

“With what, Justin?” I yelled. “Your life again?” I shoved my finger in his face. “No more deals, Justin. That’s why we’re in this mess. And the last thing Mom needs is to have both kids disappear.”

“Mia, I can’t let them take you.”

“They won’t. I’ll figure this out. I just have to find out what King had on his plate and…” I swallowed, “be him.” I could do this. I could be King, especially if I had Mack’s help. I just prayed that whatever deals he’d made and services he’d committed to perform didn’t include hunting for heads.

“Mia, I’m sorry for all of this. If I’d known at the time—”

“It’s okay.” I held out my hand. “I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. It’ll be okay. I’ll fix this. I’ll find King.” And I’ll get out of being his.

I hoped. Oh Lord, I hoped.

“I’ll call you later,” I said and marched down the stairs toward the exit. When I got outside, the rain started to pour. I looked up at the night sky, cursing my “blessed” luck. Why did it always seem to rain when my life was at its worst and I was in need of a cab?

I’d give anything for an Arno right now. Especially since the clock was ticking.

~~

9:30 P.M.

After thirty minutes, I finally flagged down a cab and made it back to the warehouse. I felt eternally grateful that the driver knew his alternate routes because traffic was a nightmare. San Francisco was an incredibly small city, seven by seven miles. That made the trip to just about anywhere inside city limits a short journey, provided the cars were actually moving, which most of the time, they weren’t.

I paid the driver and dashed out into the pouring rain, heading for the warehouse door. I shoved my hand in my pocket for the key, and when I did, I somehow slipped that enormous ring on my finger. It was like the damned thing wanted to be there. When I pulled my hand back out, gripping the key, the ring was firmly stuck. Yes. On the ring finger.

What the…? I shook my hand, trying to get the creepy thing off while unlocking the door, but it just wouldn’t budge. I found it disturbing, just as I did the entire situation. Especially the part about King claiming me as his prized piece of ass. I mean, did the man think I wouldn’t find out the truth? Did he really believe he could manipulate me into accepting him in that way? And why couldn’t I stop that little tingle of excitement deep inside my stomach every time I looked at the ring?

Shit. Don’t start, Mia. I had to accept that King made me feel things I shouldn’t. But that didn’t make them real or right.

I pushed on the steel door and slipped inside the warehouse, shaking the rain from my hair. I slipped off my wet coat. “Hello? Mack?”

No answer.

He wasn’t back yet, and frankly I didn’t want to go exploring, especially on the second floor. Heads were on that floor. Live heads.

I shivered. I didn’t even want to think about why King would do such a heinous thing to anyone. Deserving or not, it was horrific. And they were still alive. Alive!

How’s that even possible? What is he?

Your betrothed? Again, my stomach tingled.

No. Stop that. I looked at the ring again and tried to slip it off. The damned thing was stuck. Seriously stuck. Great. I’m useless. Totally usel—

When the sound of classical music caught my attention, I held my breath. Where the hell is that coming from? Did I really want to find out?

“Mack? Is that you?”

No reply.

“Heads? Is that you?”

Thankfully, there was no reply either.

Before I realized it, I was halfway down the center aisle, heading toward the bank of stairs on the opposite side of the warehouse. The music grew louder as I got closer.

“Hello?” I stopped and was about to return toward the entrance, but something started to pull, telling me that I had to continue up the stairs despite the action being against my better judgment.

In fact, it felt like… King?

I shuffled up the stairs, passed the second-floor landing, and followed the soft sounds. The horrible, menacing vibe that had been present before was completely gone now. In fact, the air was fragrant with spices and the delicious scent of King’s cologne.

Oh my God. It is him! I was saved.

I leaped my way up the stairs, taking two at a time. When I reached the third floor, however, I didn’t find what I’d hoped.

I gasped. There was a heavy iron door right at the top of the stairs, blocking any possible entrance from the stairwell.

Where had it come from? I pressed my ear to the cold door. Yes, there was loud music playing inside.

“King!” I pounded on the door. “King!”

The door creaked open as if moving on its own, and the music stopped.

I stood there and stared in disbelief. There was no King inside, but the empty space was now filled. And not just with sculptures, furniture, and bookshelves that covered almost every wall, but the space was filled with color. Purple.

This is King’s place. This was where he lived.

But why hadn’t we seen it before? The “K” tattoo on my arm began to tingle and itch. It reminded me of the times that King’s emotions were elevated. Or when you feel his eyes on you when he’s nowhere to be found.

Was King somehow there now, watching me? It sounded insane, but when it came to King’s abilities, anything was possible. The man could appear out of thin air, get inside my head, and make me feel things simply by looking into my eyes.

Was King somehow allowing me to see this place?

I stepped inside and inhaled deeply. King’s seductive scent permeated the air and gave me an unexpected sense of excitement.

How is this possible? How am I seeing this?

The place looked like one of those giant loft apartments you’d see in New York, perhaps something an artist might live in. Only this was the home of a very wealthy, mysterious, controlling man. Rich, dark area rugs, natural-colored hardwood floors, and furniture that had clean and simple lines. No real frills, absolutely nothing frilly, and no walls to divide the living spaces, except for what appeared to be a bathroom to my right.

In one corner stood a giant bed covered in dark gray linens and tons of enormous fluffy pillows—reds and blacks. They oddly reminded me of the Artifact, but that thing, at least the energy it left behind, had a strange pattern to it, like little diamond shapes or crisscrosses. Then there was a small kitchen area—black granite counters, industrial-sized stainless steel fridge, but no stove or oven. There was, however, a large walk-in wine cellar made of glass. So the man had nothing to cook with, but had a lot of cooling capacity. That oddly fit King.

The living room, where I stood, had one simple black leather couch next to a coffee table stacked with old books. There was also a funky antique leather armchair with carved wooden trim that almost reminded me of a throne. I could practically see King sitting there in his casual black T-shirt and faded button flies, digging through one of these books.

My eyes wandered over the rest of the space. It wasn’t homey or comfortable. It was more functional and slightly sterile. Like he stayed there, but didn’t live there.

Had he wanted me to find this place? If yes, then why?

Maybe he wanted you to see where he intends to turn you into his love slave, I mentally growled while my eyes wandered back over to the shelves that ran along both sides of the room about halfway through the space. I counted ten tiers of shelves filled with leather-bound books.

“Why bring me to this place?” I muttered.

“Everything is here, Mia,” I heard King’s voice whisper in my ear.

I gasped and turned my head, but there was no one there. Had it been my mind playing tricks on me?

My tattoo tingled, and I gave it a little rub. “King? King?” I spun and looked around the room. I felt him there with me.

Silence.

You’re crazy. Or maybe I wanted to believe that he’d magically appear and fix this mess he’d left Mack and me to deal with.

I walked over to the shelves and began inspecting. Most were old books, histories of ancient civilizations: the Anasazi, Olmec, Khmer Empire, Atlantis, and Minoans. I vaguely recognized some of the names, but being an advertising major in college and a product of the California public school system meant that I came up pretty darn short in the history of the world department.

I ran my fingers over the books as I read the bindings, hoping that one might jump out at me, and it did: a thick black leather book. I plucked it from the shelf and immediately felt the energy oozing from its pages.

It had to weigh over ten pounds, so I lugged it over to the armchair and sat, opening the enormous thing on my lap. I thumbed through the pages written in a language I didn’t recognize. However, toward the back half of the book, where the ink appeared to be fresher, the words were in English.

Lot #655. Cardamom from the garden of Partavi.

Origin: Parvati Temple at Khajuraho, India

Characteristics: aphrodisiac. 1/8 tspn administered orally = one day of effect

Lot #245. Chalice, Gold

Origin: unknown

Characteristics: produces a sense of intoxication even when filled with water

The lists went on and on. Some of the items had been crossed out with a name written beside it. I could only assume it meant that the items had been traded away for something else.

So this is King’s catalog for all the junk downstairs. I wished I had more time because I could only imagine what all of that strange and powerful stuff actually did.

My head started to pound as it did when my realities—the old versus the new—were at odds. What was my mind fighting with? I didn’t know, but the agonizing storm inside my brain was enough to make me want to fall over.

I stumbled my way to the couch and lay face down, cupping my face in my hands. Go away. Go away. But the pain only increased. My head felt like it might explode. “What’s the matter with you?” I screamed at myself. I rolled over and hit the floor, landing on my back. Red, black, blue. The colors bombarded my head, and I wailed in agony.

Was this King’s doing somehow? His last hurrah? Watching me suffer? “Ahhh. Please stop,” I cried, the tears pouring down my face.

Just then, I noticed a tan, leather-bound book sitting innocently on the floor underneath the coffee table. And just like that, the pain stopped.

Panting, I lay there for a moment staring at the ceiling and catching my breath. What the hell was happening? I felt like King was trying to connect with me, maneuver me from some distant location, although I knew it couldn’t be possible. Could it? Then why did I still feel like that rat being pushed through the maze? Finding the key, then the ring, and this room?

And now, this book? “Is this it?” I asked the empty space in the room. “Is this what you wanted me to find?”

~~

I see his pale gray eyes watching me through the crowded market, and I know I should look away, but I cannot. I have watched him since we were children playing together in the ocean while our fathers fished together.

My younger sister, Charis, catches me staring and thrusts her elbow into my ribs. “Hagne, you are marrying his brother. Look away.”

But I cannot. I have forever dreamed of belonging to Callias, lighting candles and reciting my words of power for as long as I can remember. Why did the gods not grant my wishes? Why? Because to marry Draco is death to my soul, to my heart.

Charis reminds me that I am lucky to be wanted at all, that our family serves Draco’s. We are Seers. They are chosen by the gods to rule us.

“Seers?” I whispered aloud.

“What the fuck is this?” a deep voice mumbled.

I glanced up at Mack hunching over in the open doorway just as he fell over.

CHAPTER FOUR

I helped a very weak, yet still conscious, Mack up off the floor and over to the couch. His face was bruised, his lower lip was puffy and split in two spots, and his clothes were torn in several places.

“What happened to you?” I asked, trying not to panic.

He rolled onto his back, groaning, his arms doubled at the waist.

“Okay. Don’t move. I’ll…” Dammit. I didn’t know what to do. “Get you some ice.”

I scuttled over to the kitchen and found a towel in a drawer. I pulled some ice from the freezer and bundled it up.

Mack winced when I placed it on his brow.

“Mack, who did this to you?”

“Talia,” he groaned.

“What? How? Why?” I moved the ice to his swollen lip.

“Because she’s fucking psycho, and I turned her down.”

He wasn’t making any sense. “Turned her down for what? Where were you?”

“She caught me leaving Anna’s hotel room.”

I was completely lost. “Anna? Who’s Anna?”

He groaned. “You met her at the 10 Club party. She was with Talia.”

I did remember her. She looked like Talia’s plastic surgery twin. “Is that who you went to see? Anna?”

He nodded. “She’s here in San Francisco with Talia.”

Well, I guess that’s what Mack didn’t want to tell me. Because I wouldn’t have let him go. Talia and Anna were friends. So why did he think he could go to Anna for help, let alone trust her? Idiot! Look what that got you. But…wait.

“Mack, you’re trying to tell me that Talia, who weighs a hundred pounds, beat the crap out of you?”

“Ahhhh…” he groaned. “I think she broke my rib.”

“Did she have a baseball bat?” I couldn’t comprehend how that anorexic twig had done this.

“No,” he grunted. “With her fists. She’s really strong—a spell she acquired from King.” He rolled to his other side. “Ahhh…I think she fractured my arm, too.”

I blinked. Okay…I made a mental note to be more respectful of Talia next time our paths crossed and to look up that “ability” in King’s catalog later.

“I think we should get you to the hospital,” I said.

“There’s no time,” he grunted. “Get the paper from my back pocket. I can’t reach it.”

He maneuvered himself a little to give me access. “No groping,” he said.

I smiled. At least he was feeling well enough to crack jokes. “You caught me.” I carefully slid my hand inside and pulled out a letter. I unfolded the sheet of paper and skimmed it. “Is this what I think it is?”

Mack nodded. “Yes.”

It was the list of King’s outstanding deals with the 10 Club members. “How did you get this?” Or more importantly, what was he forced to trade for it?

“Anna got it for me.”

“And?” I asked.

“And nothing.”

“Mack, what deal did you make to get this?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled with his eyes closed.

“Does she know King is missing?”

“She suspects, but part of the deal was that she wouldn’t say anything as long as you and I take out Talia.”

I blinked. “Huh? Did you say ‘take out’?”

“Yes,” he groaned.

“But aren’t they friends?” Why was this so confusing?

“Anna hates Talia. It’s a competitive thing.” Mack wrestled his way upright and opened his bloodshot eyes. “Keep your enemies close.”

“What a psycho,” I mumbled.

“I told you this wouldn’t be easy.”

“She really wants us to kill Talia?”

“Yes. And I agreed. It’s a done deal.”

Oh crap. Mack was serious.

I blew out a breath. Kill. I have to kill someone. Me, Mia Turner.

“Don’t feel bad, Mia. She’s a piece of shit, not a human being.”

“But to kill—”

“She’s a monster,” he whispered. “She’s hurt hundreds of people. Nice people. Because she’s obsessed with staying young, and she takes people’s lives to do it.”

I shook my head in disgust. “How?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s either her or us.”

“I just wish we’d had the chance to discuss this. Killing someone, even a bad person, isn’t something I think I can do just to get a list.”

“No, killing Talia is the price for Anna’s silence. Getting the list cost me something else.”

“What?”

He winced and looked away, ashamed.

I cringed. Oh no! He didn’t. It was starting to make a little more sense. Talia spotted Mack leaving Anna’s hotel room. Talia was competitive. Talia propositioned Mack, and he turned her down. “You had sex with Anna, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t that bad. I’m just not into sadistic, one-hundred-year-old women.”

“Anna is a hundred?”

“Give or take a decade.”

I couldn’t believe it. The woman only appeared to be…well, I wasn’t sure. Like Talia, she looked like one of those women from the tabloids who’d way overdone it with the plastic surgery, then piled on five pounds of makeup over that train wreck she called her face. But she didn’t look a hundred. Maybe fifty pretending to be twenty.

“Talia is a hundred and five,” Mack added.

“Okay. I’m officially impressed and disgusted.” The hundred-year-old surgery twins moved to the top of my “most creepy people alive” list.

Mack coughed. “Read the list. We don’t have much time.”

“Um…well, the first name on the list is Talia. She claims that King agreed to give her a youth serum in exchange for loaning her tracker for two weeks.” That was actually a deal that Mack put together while at the 10 Club party, so I was aware of it. “The next one is Vaughn. He says that King agreed to give…” I swallowed, “a young woman of unique abilities in exchange for an item of unknown power referred to as the Artifact.” My eyes snapped up from the paper. “Okay. Know any women of ‘unique’ abilities besides me?” I asked facetiously.

“That would want to become Vaughn’s next victim? No. But even if I did, Vaughn wants you. And he’ll be first in line if King’s property is confiscated.”

Dammit. These people were so warped, which reminded me that I still needed to find their infamous rules. Perhaps something in them could help me get out of this. If only King hadn’t kept me in the dark about all this stuff.

“Mack? Is it true that this “K” on my wrist means more than just being King’s property?”

Mack’s anguished face turned a sad shade of red. “What else is on the list?”

“Mack,” I warned, “don’t change subjects. My brother said it means that King claimed me as his…” I didn’t know what word to use, “wife or something?”

“Or something,” Mack said.

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you everything.” Mack winced again, followed by a groan. “I’m sorry. King ordered me not to say anything.”

“Why? And are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”

“You’ll have to ask him that. And no, I’ll be fine.”

If Mack wasn’t so injured, I might have belted him in the stomach for keeping this from me. However, part of me wasn’t surprised. Mack was extremely loyal to King. He’d do anything for the man.

You’d better remember that, Mia.

“Do you, at least, know why he picked me?” I asked.

“Mia, stop asking questions you know I can’t answer.” Mack glanced away and sighed; then I did the same.

Bottom line, Mack would never betray King. Not for me. Not for anyone. “Fine, but I’m warning you, if we fix this mess and find King, I’m not staying with him, Mack. You better not get in my way.”

He nodded quietly, not agreeing or disagreeing, but understanding what I was saying. “So, the list?”

I returned to the piece of paper in my hand. “A person by the name of Strong says that King has not delivered on a…” I had to read the words twice. “A hand?”

Mack groaned, but this time out of frustration. “Dammit. I forgot about that one. King mentioned the deal but told me he’d take care of it himself. This is the tenth one in two months.”

Crap. “Tenth hand? This is a regular request?”

“The people aren’t alive.”

I cringed. I knew that was supposed to make it better, but it didn’t for some reason. Probably because I imagined a rotting, boney hand. “Dead people’s hands. How lovely. And he wants dead hands because…?”

“Do you remember those powerbrokers you saw at the party?”

“How could I forget them?” I recalled seeing a large group of well-dressed people gathered around a congressman. That was when Mack had explained how each member of 10 Club—and there were many—had particular interests. Some wanted power, some were into women—rare, high-end women—some were into the occult, like King. The members all traded with each other to get things they wanted.

“A person’s hand,” Mack explained in a quiet voice, slightly above a whisper, “holds memories in the muscles. Generally, people are after particular hands that have written very particular things—secrets, letters, codes. Sometimes they use the hands to forge documents.”

“You’re serious?”

Mack nodded. “Yes. And I have no idea how King makes the hands work. I just pick them up.”

I blinked again. “You get the hands? From the bodies?”

“Mia.” He gave me an annoyed look as if trying to say, “Don’t mess with me.”

“Sorry. I know. I know.” It was just not the sort of thing I expected to hear, but thank goodness the hands were from already dead people.

“So what’s next?” I asked.

Mack looked like he was fighting some serious agony. “We have to get the serum for Talia and poison it. That needs to be done first. The serum is downstairs, and I’m sure there’s some poison in his arsenal, too.” Mack began pushing himself up, wincing and moaning. “I’ll go get the hand.”

I popped up from the couch. “You can’t leave. If you won’t go to a doctor, you at least need to rest.”

“I’ve been in worse shape.” He steadied himself on his feet. “Besides, you can’t go. It’s Vaughn’s hand they want.”

I covered my mouth. “Oh my God. You can’t be serious.”

He shot me a look.

He was serious! “You’re not going to try to go after Vaughn, are you?” Especially like this. It was a complete death wish.

“No. I’m going after that arm he lost. Vaughn is the sort of man who’d keep it, probably as a revenge memento.”

Ewww. I could actually see him doing that. He probably petted it and took it out for walks. The guy was seriously messed up. “Where would he put it?”

“I’ve heard from other members that he has a trophy case, a giant freezer.”

My heart cramped as the visual popped into my head. Vaughn—that fucking sick bastard—liked to collect people, mostly women, and then hurt them. He probably kept his favorites like some horrific game hunter would keep an animal’s head or antlers.

“I’m going to ask Miranda to get it for us.”

“Miranda?” I asked. “The psycho bitch King helped you get away from?”

He nodded yes.

Oh no. This just kept getting worse. Miranda was Mack’s previous “owner.”

“Why would psycho-bitch Miranda have access to Vaughn’s trophy freezer?” I asked. “And why in the world would you ask her for any favors?”

“Miranda is Vaughn’s wife.”

Holy crap. “And you used to be her ‘property’?” No wonder Mack hadn’t really flinched at sleeping with Anna. I was about to ask Mack if he had to…to…with…Vaughn, Miranda’s husband. Oh no. I can’t even think about it, let alone ask the question.

“They’ve been separated for about ten years,” Mack mumbled, “but they still maintain a relationship; they’re both active members in the Club.”

“You can’t go back to her.” I grabbed Mack’s arm, and he yelped. “Oh, sorry.”

“She hates Vaughn. She’ll help me for the right price.”

I couldn’t believe this. Mack was actually serious. He was leaving. “What are you going to trade?” I hoped that it wouldn’t be sex.

“Vaughn’s head.”

“What the hell?” I blurted out.

He glanced at me, and this was one of those moments when I could clearly see the other side of Mack—his deadly side. This was when I understood why he’d found a home in King’s employ.

“Mia, let me be frank. We’re not going to be able to fulfill King’s debt to Vaughn, and he knows it. So this is only going to end one of two ways: Vaughn wins, and we die. Or we win, and Vaughn dies. There are no other possible outcomes. None.”

“But now we are up to killing two people to survive.” I just couldn’t believe this was the only way. Because like it or not, I did believe in souls. I’d now seen evidence of their existence with my own eyes. And now I knew that something bigger than all of us existed out there in the universe. I didn’t want to tarnish my soul by taking another life, even a life that deserved taking.

Mack stepped toward me, reached for my hand, and held it tightly. “If Vaughn has taken King, he won’t give him up willingly. Vaughn has to die. But don’t worry. I won’t make you do the dirty deeds. I’m going to hell anyway.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Even if I’ve changed who I am, I can’t erase the past. I did things that can never be forgiven.”

I stared into his big blue eyes. “No one is beyond redemption, Mack. No one.”

He smiled. “Trust me. Some people are.” He shrugged. “Look at it this way, at least my past now serves a purpose: I can take a bad person’s life without worrying about the consequences. And…I can save you.”

We stared at each other for a long moment, and I sincerely had to wonder why Mack would want to save me. Frankly, he barely knew me. “Why don’t you just run?”

“Why don’t you? In fact, if I were in your shoes, especially now that you know what it’s going to take to stop the Club, I would be getting the hell out of here.”

“I can’t abandon my family. And why does it sound like you’re trying to convince me to go? ”

“I owe King a very great debt. Plus, I know he’d want me to protect you from all this.”

“I thought King hated me.” Okay, “hate” was too strong a word, but he saw me as his disobedient pet.

Mack smirked and shook his head. “I know if we’re lucky enough to survive, you plan to fight it, but King chose you, Mia. You. To be by his side for the rest of his life. He will never share you. Never trade you. He will never leave you. You’re his.”

Mack’s words poked at the pit of my stomach. Flutters mixed with the knots. “You make it sound like he loves me. That this was all some romantic gesture on his part.”

“Maybe for a man like King, it is.” He glanced at his watch. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to convince you to run?”

I shook my head. “I appreciate your concern for me.”

He appeared genuinely disappointed. “All right. I gotta go. I’ll be back in four hours. Can you look for the serum?”

“Wait, why four hours?” That was a huge chunk of time, and it was already ten p.m.

“Miranda lives in Los Angeles. And I know she won’t do deals over the phone. Most members won’t.”

I suppose it made sense given that phones could be tapped.

“What am I searching for?” I asked.

“It’s a vial of blood that says ‘Cleopatra’ on it.”

“As in…?”

“Yes, the Queen of Egypt.”

I lifted my brows. Best not to ask.

“And the poisons?” I still couldn’t believe I was going to do this.

Mack scratched his chin. “I’m not sure.”

“I found King’s catalog; I’ll look through there.”

Mack’s eyes glanced at the thick book on the coffee table. “Excellent. It’s our lucky day, then. Maybe you can find the magic-hand spell and a way to kill Vaughn?”

I made a sour face, trying to hide the actual horror I felt over being in a situation worse than any nightmare I had ever imagined. “Sure.”

Mack offered me a consoling smile. “Not too late to change your mind, Mia.”

I shook my head. “I’m not throwing in the towel.”

He took a deep breath, winced, and then barked out several curses. He sure as hell didn’t look okay to me, but he had no intention of staying put. “Well, I’m off to L.A. to find a hand.”

So disgusting. “Good luck.”

He nodded and disappeared down the stairs.

CHAPTER FIVE

11:15 P.M.

After Mack left for L.A., I found myself standing in the middle of King’s chamber all alone with nothing but my thoughts. I knew I should be focusing on finding the serum, but my eyes kept gravitating toward the book I’d left sitting on the armchair. I couldn’t help but think it was what King really wanted me to find.

And the ring.

Again I glanced at the diamond on my finger. Okay. Obviously, it was no ordinary piece of jewelry. Rings didn’t simply hop on your finger like that. Hmmm. Actually, now that I thought it over, I was able to see King’s place after I’d put it on. Yeah, but so was Mack.

Okay. I had no clue what the ring did. But what I knew for certain was that it was not intended as a romantic gesture. Didn’t matter what Mack said regarding King’s marking me as his “special someone,” because it made absolutely no sense. If I were King, able to select only one woman to give his weird 10 Club immunity to, I would pick someone who wanted me back.

Okay, yes. Some tiny, dark part of my soul desired the man. He exuded an addictive, potent virility. His body was a tribute to all things wholly masculine and sensual, right down to his hard, round, beautiful ass. I’d seen it once along with his other unforgettable unmentionable during one of our “almost encounters.” But the part of me that desired him was not the sane part or the part in control. It was, however, the part I would fight tooth and nail to ignore. Even more so now that I understood King considered my entire body, even the private parts, his.

“I’m not yours, King. And you shouldn’t have wasted your one precious brand on me.” My head immediately started to spin, and I doubled over, feeling like I might vomit. In the back of my head, I heard King screaming at me, telling me to open my eyes, to stop fighting with my old reality.

I scrambled to the kitchen area and hovered over the sink, feeling like I’d be sick, but nothing came out. It was probably because I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. In fact, I hadn’t eaten much at all in the past month and a half. I’d lost fifteen pounds and was down to a seven, a first for me and a really sad way to get there.

I opened King’s fridge and found only champagne. No food. No other beverages. Just really expensive-looking champagne, the same French bubbles, actually, that King had left in my hotel room the night he branded me in Palenque.

Jerk.

I’d thought he was being considerate, given I’d had an extremely horrific day—a little run-in with some violent Mexican officials at the airport—when in reality, the champagne was probably symbolic of what King intended to do to me that night: take ownership of my life without permission.

I wandered over to his glass walk-in wine cellar and noticed it was full of champagne as well, a few hundred bottles.

Okay. I guess he really likes bubbly. Which, given how he looked, wasn’t fair. As I mentioned, I’d seen this man naked, and his body was a work of chiseled art. Right down to his well-endowed penis. He even had this really elaborate tattoo, kind of like an Egyptian collar—a semi-circular pattern that covered his entire collarbone and a good portion of his well-defined chest. It was stunning. But how a man as beautiful as that got away with this as his diet? Total mystery to me.

“Lucky bastard,” I mumbled.

Then my head filled with sharp spears of pain. I hobbled over to his bed and lay down, burying my face in his pillow as I groaned. What was happening to me? It felt like something was trying to claw its way inside my skull.

After a few minutes, the crippling ache dissipated, and I caught myself feeling soothed by King’s luscious scent. It was a smell like no other. I used to think it was some sort of expensive cologne, but now I wondered if it was his natural scent—sort of citrusy with a hint of spice.

“Enjoying yourself, Miss Turner?” King’s voice radiated from directly in front of the huge bed.

I dropped the pillow and scrambled to sit up. “Holy crap.”

Wearing his usual sleek, expensive black suit, King looked down with those penetrating, pale gray eyes fringed with black lashes.

Oh my God. I don’t believe it! “Where have you been?” I gasped, feeling frigging relieved out of my mind.

He strolled over to the side of the bed where I sat. “Does that mean,” he said in a low, suggestive voice, “that you are happy to see me?”

“You have no idea.” I was about to jump up and hug him. That’s how happy I was to see that evil, beautiful man—our problems were solved—but he swiftly bent down and placed his warm hand to the back of my head. He pulled me to his mouth, and all I could think of was how incredible it felt to kiss him. His soft lips moved against mine, and our tongues slid together in a seductive rhythm. His hot mouth was like a dark drug that made me crave more, crave everything. Even the dangerous rage that lived inside his soul, smoldering like a fire from hell. Oh God. Everything about this man—his touch, smell, and voice—mesmerized me, enticed me, and beckoned me to let go and enjoy all he could offer.

King slowly pulled away and gazed into my eyes. “This is a dream, Mia. Another dream. Like the time you saw Brian.”

“Brian?” He was my brother’s roommate in Mexico. After Justin went missing, I went to their apartment, looking for answers, and found Brian. We’d had a long conversation, and later that night, I saw his body. He’d been dead for over a month. King said it had been a product of my mind, which had been trying to reconcile my old reality with my new Seer-reality. Somehow my mind took remnants of Brian’s soul and created a person as real as anyone. But he hadn’t been because, as King rightly pointed out, dead people didn’t talk.

My eyes opened, and I felt my heart fill with terror. I began to bawl.

“Why are you crying?” King asked.

“Because if I’m seeing you, then you’re dead. Just like Brian.”

“Ah, I see.” King smiled in that charming sort of way that meant he was hiding something. “It’s possible that I’m not dead and your mind is simply pulling imprints I’ve left behind. After all, this is my chamber.”

I wiped my tears with my sleeve. Was he—I mean—was I saying that because I didn’t want to believe it was all over?

King pulled me up from his bed so that our bodies pressed tightly together.

He felt so real. So damned real.

He smiled with affection, but his eyes twinkled with a spark of annoyance. “You must run, Mia. You mustn’t let Vaughn get you.”

“Run?” I shook my head. “I don’t understand. Run where?” Why was I asking that? It’s not like a made-up version of King could tell me anything.

“Anywhere away from here.”

“I can’t, King. I can’t just leave my family. And I can’t…” I didn’t actually want to say the rest.

“Yes?”

I ran my hands over my hair. “If Vaughn has you, I can’t leave you there.” Okay, I said it. I cared, but I couldn’t help it. That was who I was.

This time, King flashed a genuine smile that touched his eyes, and I felt instantly sucked in. He had such an effect on me, and I began to wonder if it was because of our bond.

He returned his beautiful mouth to mine, kissing me with those sinful lips. His hot mouth worked at a sensual pace, and his thick stubble scratched at the delicate skin surrounding the edges of my lips. He feels so good, so real.

My entire body melted into him, giving into whatever power he held over me.

Slowly, he broke away and nuzzled his way to my ear. “I am not worth the sacrifice,” he whispered. “Read the book I’ve had translated for you. Then you’ll understand.”

And just like that, King dissolved into a swirling cloud of purple light, leaving his taste on my lips.

I spun around, searching the room with my eyes, holding my breath. “King?” But he was gone.

Christ. Had that been real? Or had I made that up?

I quickly gathered a wad of fabric from the front of my sweater and brought it to my nose and sniffed. Then I smelled my hands. King’s scent completely covered me.

My eyes moved to the bed. Of course, you idiot. I’d been lying on his pillow and blankets. No, it couldn’t have been real.

My stomach clenched into a knot so tight that I doubled over in agony. My face felt like it was on fire, ready to burst into flames. My head felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

What was going on? An epic battle seemed to be brewing inside the confines of my skin and skull.

I sat back on the bed and waited for the sensation to pass. Meanwhile, King’s words played in my head. Or were they my own words? I didn’t know, but he’d told me to run. Run to where? 10 Club would find me. Maybe they’d go after Justin and my parents, too. And even if they didn’t, if I suddenly disappeared, what would that do to my mother?

I couldn’t not try to fix this.

I scraped my shaking body from the bed and went over to the kitchen area to search the cupboards for anything non-alcoholic with sugar to drink.

I found nothing except a collection of wine openers and a box of cigars.

Cigars? I didn’t know King smoked, but I could definitely see him doing it. When it came to King, just about everything he did was old school.

I looked at my watch. Holy hell. It was already past midnight, and an entire hour had gone by since Mack left. We had little more than eighteen hours to go, but I had to eat before I passed out.

Christ, King. He could figure out a way to show up inside my head, have rooms that appeared out of thin air, and put live heads in jars, but he couldn’t figure out how to grocery shop.

All right, I knew there were a few convenience stores-slash-gas stations down the street. I’m sure they’d have some energy drinks and nuts or something.

I grabbed the book from King’s armchair, unwilling to risk losing it, and trudged my way down the stairs, through the bottom floor. When I yanked open the door to go outside, I saw Mack lying face down on the ground.

“Mack!”

CHAPTER SIX

It is the night before my wedding to Draco, and I know tomorrow will be the worst day of my life. I will stand before our families and take our vows. From that moment forward, Draco will own me. But I hate the man. The way he stares fills me with disgust, and sometimes, I think I would rather die than let him touch my body as his wife. Why did he have to be born first instead of his brother? The other girls on our island say Draco is the most handsome and intelligent, the most kind and thoughtful of all the men in his family, but I think Draco is weak. He is so unlike his brother, Callias, who is truly a man, a man who takes what he wants instead of asking. I wish that he would take me. But that is not my fate. It matters not how many candles I light or how many times I ask the gods, they are determined to watch me suffer.

However, by this time tomorrow Draco may own my body, but Callias will own my heart. I will think only of him when Draco comes to my bed in the night. And I will scratch his back when he bucks on top of me. I will imagine I am scratching out Draco’s eyes.

I wish the man nothing but death and pain.

Mack’s soft groan from the emergency room bed moved my attention away from the book in my hands. I leaned forward in my chair and brushed his blond hair from his forehead. I’d never noticed before, but he had a small scar over his right brow and one on his chin. He was a very handsome man that reminded me of those “all-American” types I saw in the Abercrombie perfume ads I’d worked on once.

Ha. I chuckled to myself. How long had it been since I’d even thought of my old job? A little less than two months ago, advertising was my life. I specialized in global fragrance campaigns. But the days of Manolo heels and flights to New York, Paris, and Buenos Aires were long gone.

Mack cracked open his sleepy blue eyes. “Why are you staring at me?”

I smiled. “Hi, there. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” His eyes began to move around the sterile hospital room. “You took me to the hospital? Fuck.” He struggled to get up, but I pushed him back down.

“No, Mack. You can’t move. You have a concussion, three broken ribs, a fractured arm, and the doctor thinks you have a ruptured spleen.” I still couldn’t believe that the hundred-year-old twig did this to him. “He’s waiting for the test results.”

“He can call me when he gets them. Help me up.”

Damned stubborn man! What is he thinking? And I knew I never should have let him walk out of that warehouse. He hadn’t even made it to his damned car! He’d passed out cold on the sidewalk for over an hour before I found him.

“I’m just thankful you weren’t flying when you blacked out.” Especially since he always flew alone.

His eyes flickered with pain. “How many hours did we lose?”

I looked down at my hands, already knowing the time because I’d been watching the clock like a hawk. “We have about sixteen hours left.”

“Shit. We’ve lost too much time. Now you have to run, Mia.”

“What? No. We’re not giving up.”

Mack stared at me for a moment. “Of course, you’re right.” He moved to get up again.

“Mack, no. Didn’t you hear me? The doctor said you might be bleeding internally. There’s no way in hell you’re flying a plane. And before you ask, I already checked all of the commercial flights. Everything is booked to L.A. until two p.m.”

“Then we’ve hit a wall,” he said.

I blew out a breath. “I know,” I murmured, thinking. “I had a vision that King came to see me,” I blurted. “At least, I think it wasn’t real.”

Mack simply stared.

“Yeah, I know. It’s strange.”

“What did he say?” Mack asked.

“To run. And that he can’t be saved.”

“Is that all he said?” Mack mumbled, squirming in his bed, trying to get comfortable.

“You sound like you believe it might’ve actually been him.”

“It’s King. Anything is possible. What else did he say?”

“He asked me to read this.” I lifted the book.

“What is it?”

“It’s a story about some horribly mean girl who has to marry a guy she doesn’t want. She’s a Seer, like me.” I shrugged. “That’s the only reason I can think of that he’d want me to read this—if he wanted me to read this.” I wasn’t sure what was real any longer.

Mack looked at me blankly. “I don’t have a clue what that book means, but are you sure you want to keep going?”

“Yes! Why do you keep asking me that?”

He looked away for a moment. “I want you to have a chance before it’s too late. Look what happened to me.”

“There’s nothing you can say, Mack. So drop it.”

“Then pass me my phone,” he grumbled.

“Sure.” I got up and dug through his bag of clothes. “Here you go.”

He made a few taps.

“Who are you calling?”

“Arno, so he can fly you to L.A.”

“What?” I stood up. “You want me to go see Miranda?”

“We still have sixteen hours, and if you’re not throwing in the towel, then this is what has to be done.”

“I can’t look her in the face and commit to…” I leaned in; we were in a private room, but I didn’t want to risk anyone hearing what a horrible person I’d become, “killing her husband in exchange for that hand,” I whispered.

“You’re committing King to have her husband killed,” he whispered back. “No one said that you’re the one who will do it.”

“You want me to retrieve a hand, figure out how to make it,” I cringed, “alive again, deliver it to some powerbroker guy, then find a serum and kill Talia. All this while looking for King. You see how impossible all of this is, don’t you?”

“Yes, which is why—”

“Don’t say it, Mack,” I barked, knowing he was going to mention I should get out now. “What about killing Vaughn?” I whispered again.

“You need to have him killed to void the deal he claims he has in play with King. You’ll ask Strong to do it,” Mack said.

The powerbroker guy who wanted the hand? “What? You want me to ask him to…” I quieted my voice. “Off Vaughn?”

“Yes. You will make Strong an offer he can’t refuse.”

“What?”

“Anything he wants in King’s arsenal. Give him the whole damned thing if he wants it.”

“You want me to give him everything in that warehouse?”

“It’s an offer he won’t turn down.”

“So this is your plan?”

He winced. “Yeah.”

“And you realize that if we free King, he will kill us for giving away all of his stuff, right?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.” Mack dialed and held the phone to his ear. “Hey, it’s me. Where are you?” He listened. “Because I need you to take Mia to see Miranda.” He listened for a few moments. “Yes, I know, but we don’t have a choice.” Pause. “Thanks. Oh, by the way. Steer clear of Talia if you happen to see her coming.” He listened again. “I’m in the hospital. She broke a few ribs and some other vital organs, I’m told.”

Arno was actually having a real conversation with Mack? I thought he never spoke. Maybe he just doesn’t speak to you.

Mack chuckled. “Thanks, man. And be careful. You know how Miranda is.” He ended the call and looked at me. “Arno will be outside in ten minutes.”

“He’s ten minutes away?”

“Guess he didn’t want to go far in case we needed him.”

So Arno hadn’t run either? “Errr…okay.” I began wringing my hands.

“You can do this, Mia. Just be firm. Pretend that King is right there with you.”

I looked down at the tattoo on my wrist and rubbed my fingertips over the mark. It made a little tingle, and I guessed, in some weird way, I always felt like King was with me. Not sure that would make this upcoming task any easier, however.

“There’s an ice chest in the belly of the plane,” Mack said, “in case Miranda can deliver right away.”

“Seriously? You keep a hand-cooler handy, ‘just in case’?”

“What? You don’t expect me to hold the thing on my lap, do you?”

These people were so very demented. “Air Magic-Hands.” I wiggled my fingers. “Ready for takeoff.”

Mack laughed and then coughed. “Good luck, Mia.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

3:00 A.M.

Arno, a stout man with curly, dark hair and dressed in a black sweater and slacks, was not the world’s most talkative person—with me, anyway—wasn’t sure why. However, today he was unusually quiet, answering my questions—like, “Hey, I didn’t know you fly. Where did you learn?”—with a scowl and an incoherent grumble in a foreign language I didn’t recognize. Maybe he was peeved because he preferred driving his SUV. Or perhaps he felt annoyed that I made him swing by my parents’ house (thankfully, no one was home—probably at the hospital) so I could change into my red heels and a black skirt suit. After all, I needed to look less like a hobo and more like a representative of King’s if I were to be doing deals on his behalf.

In any case, missing Mack’s more outgoing personality, I decided to curl up on one of the large black leather seats in the cabin instead of sitting in the cockpit, to take advantage of King’s stash of fine scotch. Yes, I’d finally eaten a sandwich at the hospital while waiting for Mack to wake up.

Glass tumbler in hand and wrapped in a warm blanket from the overhead compartment, I flipped open the old journal from King’s chamber. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why King would want me to read this. That is, if it had truly been his intention. Because, yes, the possibility still existed that I’d been dreaming King up. However, if I hadn’t, what would I find in this story? Was it a journal from someone in his past, perhaps? The woman was a Seer, like me, and I remember King once saying that his last Seer had died for disobeying him. Perhaps this was her family’s story?

I read the next few entries, and the woman went on and on about the hate she felt for Draco on their wedding day. As an act of defiance toward everyone there, she’d decided to look at Draco’s brother, Callias, when she spoke her vow at their wedding. I have to say that I felt no pity for her. It was one thing to love the other brother, but to hate Draco for wanting her? For being a kind person? It didn’t seem right. And it seemed that with every page, the woman’s irrational hatred only seemed to grow. I wanted to stomp on her toes when I read how she did, in fact, scratch her new husband’s back on their wedding night and how she laughed at him when he winced in pain. What a horrible bitch. Was this supposed to be my heritage or something? I hoped not, because the next part of the story brought new meaning to the word “cruel.”

Tonight, the gods have finally answered my prayers. Callias has realized that we are supposed to be together. It was yet another day of outdoor celebrations and festivities to honor the gods before the harvest when Callias cornered me in the storeroom and kissed me. It was everything I had ever dreamed of. And when I held his manhood in my hand and stroked him, I knew it would be fast for him. “Yes,” I told him. “Do it. Plant your seed in my belly before your brother has a chance.” My words ignited him—oh, he is such a fiercely competitive man—and he took me quickly right there. He told me that it was his mistake for not fighting for me. He told me that he would make things right.

Tonight, I will sneak away and meet him again under the stars. I will savor every moment with him, of his ruthless strength, of the fierceness in his pale gray eyes when he takes me. I will make him swear his words tonight, swear before the gods that he will make things right. I will not spend my life tethered to Draco. Weak, disgusting Draco. I don’t care if he is ruler. There can only be one king. King of my heart. King of my soul. King of me. Callias.

“King?” My eyes lifted from the thick beige pages, and a cold chill pounded its way through my body. Was this the story of King and his Seer?

I flipped the book over and looked at the back page, then at the front. But this book had to be over a hundred years old.

My brain began to itch, once again looking toward the impossible to make sense of it all. If Talia and Anna were over one hundred years old, and King provided them with serums to stay young, then could it be possible…?

I remembered that King once said he was “too old” for pretenses. But the man didn’t look a day over thirty-five. And he certainly didn’t look like Talia or Anna, who both mutilated what I imagined were once beautiful faces with excessive plastic surgery. But if King had gifts, ones that no normal person had, and he’d spent his life in pursuit of powerful “tools,” as he liked to call them, then it could be possible. He could be much older than he appeared. It would explain so much about him—his apparent lack of modern-day civility, his enormous collection of art and artifacts.

“What are you King? What is this book?” I whispered aloud, scratching my head.

“Enjoying the story?” said King, who sat next to me.

I jumped in my seat. “Holy shit!” I screamed.

Arno came back into the cabin in a hurry. “What happened?”

“He can’t see me.” King looked amused and popped an unlit cigar in his mouth. An unknotted black bowtie hung loose around his neck, and he had his white shirt unbuttoned past his collarbone, exposing a bit of his collar-like tattoo. “Tell him to go back to flying the plane.”

I blinked and looked at King, unable to believe my eyes. “What are you doing here?” I whispered.

“I am wondering why you screamed,” grumbled Arno, thinking my question had been directed at him.

“Tell Arno to go back to flying the plane,” King repeated and crossed his thick arms.

I looked up at Arno. “Sorry. I thought I saw a spider, but it was just a ball of lint.”

Arno shook his head and went back to the cockpit.

I turned to King. “How are you here, King?”

He smiled. “I’m not.” He took my hand into his lap. His skin was warm and firm, so real. “You are simply very talented at imagining me.”

“This is crazy. I’m crazy.”

“Yes,” he said. “I believe you might be. Then again, most Seers are.”

“I need this to end. I need you to go away.” Because the clock was ticking, and the real King was going to need me to find him—if he was still alive—just as soon as I got myself out of hot water, obviously.

“I’ll go,” he said, “just as soon as I talk you out of going to see Miranda.”

“I’m not doing this. I’m not debating with you. Leave.” If I was making him up, why couldn’t I make him go away?

“She is more ruthless and disturbed than Vaughn,” King argued. “She’ll smell your fear from a mile away.”

It was a chance I had to take. “Either I try, or I lose everything.”

“I realize you’re doing this because you think you’ll save your family, but ask yourself this: Why hasn’t Vaughn come after your brother, Mia? Or your parents, for that matter? And if you ran, what makes you think Vaughn would go after them then?”

“I don’t know.” It was a good question, actually.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why Vaughn never came after you or your parents to begin with, when Justin was on the run?”

“Vaughn had his men attack me,” I pointed out. “And Justin said that Vaughn threatened all of us, which is why he agreed to help Vaughn trap you.”

King shook his beautiful head. “No, Mia. You were attacked. But you do not know by whom.” He was right, actually. When Justin had supposedly gone missing with his crew, I went to Mexico City to find out what the people at the embassy knew. From there, I’d planned to go to Palenque to meet with the local police. I never made it that far. Some men threatened me in my hotel room within one hour of arriving in that city. They told me to go home. Even the woman at the embassy, Jamie Henshaw, had been pushing for me not to come to Mexico. They’d all wanted me to stay away, not to come looking for Justin.

But who sent them? I was never really sure.

“As for Vaughn threatening your family,” King scratched his scruffy black whiskers, “this is what Justin said. Are you so certain your brother is telling the truth?”

Of course I was! I turned my head to say something, but King was gone. His vibe, however, stuck in the air, and I swore I could smell him even in my hair.

Holy crap, King. Was that you? I was certainly beginning to think it was. If that was the case, then why wouldn’t he just say so? Why all the mystery?

I shook my aching head. Maybe it wasn’t real. King wouldn’t just pop in and out like that, knowing your life is in danger.

Or would he?

Whatever the case, I prayed King wasn’t dead. We were all screwed without him.

~~

Arno and I stood on the doorstep to Miranda’s large Tuscany-style home overlooking the Hollywood hills, waiting for someone to answer the door. Fearing that I’d look like a coward, I’d insisted that Arno stay in the SUV—yes, he’d had one waiting for us at the airport, and he’d made me sit in the back—however, he wasn’t having it.

“I can’t believe you wanted me to come here in my jeans and Skechers. Can you believe this place?” It was over-the-top gorgeous with large palm trees, fountains, arched doorways, etc.

I rang the doorbell a second time and prayed to God she was home instead of off doing whatever evil crap she was into.

Finally, a man answered the door. He wore only a pair of snug black underwear, and his body was chiseled from top to bottom. His brown hair looked flattened on one side like he’d just rolled out of bed.

I glanced at my watch. It was almost 4:00 a.m. Yeah, a little late. Or early. Depends on one’s lifestyle, I suppose. In any case, I was in King’s world now, where the rules of politeness were of no concern to anyone. That included showing up at someone’s house at this ungodly hour.

“Hi. Um, is Miranda here?”

He scratched his groin, and that’s when I noticed the marks all over his muscled arms. Bruises and deep scratches. “Who are you?”

I held up my wrist and put on my toughest face. “I am here on behalf of King. He’s sent me with a deal, one she’ll want to hear.”

His mouth made a half-frown. “Wait there.” He slammed the door in my face.

I turned to Arno and let out a breath.

“They are watching you.” His eyes flashed to the security camera above the doorway.

I straightened my back and flung out my hip, trying to play the part of someone who carried the full weight of King’s authority.

Several minutes passed, and I was about to ring the doorbell again, but that’s when it hit me. King wouldn’t bother being polite. He’d walk in like he owned the damned place.

I sucked in a breath. Be King. Show no fear.

“Wait here,” I instructed Arno. “I mean it.” I opened the door and walked in. The place was dark inside, so I flipped on all the lights. The living room, a decorating monstrosity of gold and white everything, was to the left, a large staircase with gold tile to match the foyer was in the center, and a formal dining room—huge gold table—was to the left.

Okay, now what? What would King do?

Besides throw up on her disco-gold furniture? He’d help himself to a drink or something.

I entered the dining room and did, in fact, find an antique bar in the corner. I grabbed a tumbler from the cabinet, poured myself a…I wasn’t sure what from a crystal decanter, and then leaned back against the bar. I hoped to God I looked like a total self-centered, arrogant, powerful bitch, because my knees felt like Play-Doh.

“Who the hell are you?” The woman had bleach-blonde hair pulled into a ponytail on top of her head and wore pink silk pajamas. She couldn’t have been taller than five feet and didn’t look a day over twenty. This was Miranda? The Miranda?

I tried not to look surprised given that despite her size and age, whatever she’d done to Mack had resulted in extreme emotional and, perhaps, physical pain for the poor man. And from the look of her boy-toy’s arm, she was doing the same to him.

Maybe she had acquired the same “ability” as Talia—superhuman strength.

Doesn’t matter, Mia. Show no fear. I jerked my head at her and took a sip from my glass. Ick. It was cognac. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for five minutes, and I’ve got shit to do.”

Miranda’s brown eyes narrowed. “It’s four in the fucking morning. Who the hell are you?”

I casually slid up the sleeve of my white blouse and showed her the “K” on my wrist.

She rolled her eyes. “What the hell does he want now? I told him I’m done making deals with him. It’s too risky.”

I wondered if this wasn’t the first time King had requested her to partake in a Vaughn-related deal. If not, I wondered what King might have traded.

Focus, Mia. You have to convince her to get that hand.

Ick. Hand.

Don’t think of it as a hand, but as your key to salvation.

I smiled, trying to mimic how King smiled when he was about to let you dig yourself into a deep, dark hole, when he knew more than you did. Which was just about all the time.

Miranda looked at me and tilted her head. “Oh no. What?”

I took another sip. “King wants you to sneak into Vaughn’s trophy freezer and look for that arm he lost. If it’s there, King wants the hand.”

“What?” She started to laugh. “Is he out of his fucking mind? Vaughn won’t let me near his precious freezer. No deal. But tell King I heard about the party. If only I could’ve been there to see the look on Vaughn’s face when King ripped off his arm.”

Oh my God. These people were so very twisted. But thankfully, it did appear that Miranda hated Vaughn as much as I did, so that was something in our favor.

I chuckled, trying not to sound fake. “Yeah. It was priceless.” It was the most horrific thing I’ve ever seen.

“That’s right. It was you!” Miranda pointed at me as if I were a famous celebrity. “You were the one Vaughn cornered in the bathroom.”

I nodded and casually set my glass down on the counter, trying not to remember how that a-hole held a knife to my ribs and then shoved his hand between my legs. Sick pig. “I don’t think an arm was sufficient penalty. Neither does King.”

“What would be?” She lifted her brows and flashed an interested grin.

“A head might suffice.” And I meant it. Disgusting pig had intended to violate me, and would have if King hadn’t shown up.

“You’re serious?” Miranda’s smile faded away.

I nodded then looked at my watch. “It’s four-ten in the fucking morning. Do you think I came here just to drink your shitty cognac?”

She looked at her feet. I seriously couldn’t believe I was getting away with behaving like such a…prick.

“Head for a hand. Yes or no, Miranda?” I asked, doing my best female impersonation of King.

She looked up at me. “What’s the time limit?”

Shit. I had to think about it. I had no idea when the hand needed to be delivered or how long it would take to make it “work” if I were lucky enough to find whatever “tool” King used to do the trick.

“You have six hours,” I replied, a complete stab in the dark.

Something shifted in her demeanor, and her eyes narrowed a bit. “Why so fast?”

I literally felt the power balance shift in the room. Oh no. I messed up. But what did I do wrong? Because I suddenly felt like a person hanging on the rail of the Titanic, trying desperately to stay away from the icy waters below. Stay calm. Stay calm. Look for the lifeboat.

I shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’m just the middleman.”

Miranda shook her head. “Uh-uh. I know King. He’s a lot of things, but he’s never desperate, and he never makes deals with such a short deadline.”

“I’m sure King has his reasons.” I was sliding fast. Hang on. Don’t panic.

“Doubtful,” she said bitterly. “What the fuck are you trying to pull on me, you little bitch?” She stepped in closer, and I felt the air begin to charge with static.

I tried to maintain my game face, but it was almost impossible. What would King do?

He’d laugh.

So I did the same. “I heard a lot of things about you, Miranda, but paranoid or frightened wasn’t one of them.” I glanced at my watch. “I’ve got to go make some deliveries. I’ll let King know you’re not interested.”

I walked around her, avoiding her toxic gaze as I passed, and headed for the front door.

“I want to speak to him,” she said.

Damn. The woman was calling my bluff.

Or is she? Perhaps it was another test.

“Pfff…” I looked her up and down. “Call him yourself. But you and I both know King doesn’t discuss business over the phone. Knock yourself out, though.” That was not something I knew for certain, but Mack had mentioned that Club “deals” were generally done in person.

“Fine. Deal,” she blurted. “But tell King, if I do manage to get a hold of that hand, he has one week to kill Vaughn after I deliver. And I want to be there. I want to watch.”

I smiled at her provocatively to buy some time. Really, though, I was thinking about how Mack and King would handle this request. They never gave or got anything for free. “Watching wasn’t part of the offer.”

She threw out her hip and parked her fist. “What do you want?”

Crap. Crap. Crap. What do I want? It has to be something 10 Club-worthy, something demented and inappropriate.

I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. “Have your boy-toy deliver the hand to King’s office in San Francisco, six hours.”

“You want Edward?” she scoffed.

Oh my God. Why did I say that? What would I do if she said yes? I’d be the owner of a boy-toy. Please counteroffer. Please say no!

She cocked her head slightly to the right and crossed her arms. “Why? He’s got no backbone, and he’s only good for one fuck a night.”

I cringed inwardly. This was a sick conversation. “Who says I want him for sex? I have King for that.” A lie. “But I’ve got some gardening I need done, and your boy will look nice in a pair of cutoffs.”

She shrugged. “Fine. Deal.”

Dammit! No! I didn’t want to own anyone. Why had I said that? I could’ve asked for whisky. Or champagne. Or shoes. But I asked for her guy?

I’m an idiot.

Yes, and you really need to leave now before you say anything else wrong.

I nodded as if dismissing her. “Nice doing business with you.” I was about to add “don’t be late,” but I didn’t want to push my luck, so I simply headed out toward the SUV with Arno on my red designer heels.

As soon as we were in the car and pulling out of the driveway, I let loose a, “Holyfuckinghell. That lady is so frigging scary! Did you see the look on her face? I thought she was going to bite off my ears or something.”

Arno made a little shrug, but said nothing. His cage wasn’t the least bit rattled?

I sighed. Clearly, I was behaving like a rookie. “Never mind. Thanks for staying close.”

He bowed his head. “You are welcome, Miss Turner.”

All right. One hand down. One spell and two murders to go.

I winced, realizing how casually that dastardly thought had flowed through my head. Who was I becoming? A liar? A murderer? A person who would do anything to get what they wanted?

You’re becoming like them, Mia. Only without a horrible fetish or public office.

I glanced out the window, attempting to morally navigate my way through this mess as we made our way down the winding road back toward the airport. It was ironic, in a way, how severely I’d judged King when we first met. I assumed so much about him—he was a sadistic, arrogant, cold-hearted man who cared only for himself—though, I suppose some of my assumptions were justified. After all, the first night we’d met, he practically forced himself on me after mistaking me for a call girl. But when I stepped back and took a good, hard look, the scenery before me was beginning to take a different shape. The things King did were no longer as shocking as I’d once thought. Okay, lots of his little tricks and turns were still pretty frightening, but I almost felt like I was purposefully being placed in King’s shoes.

Within the span of a few hours, I’d negotiated to own a person and planned to murder two. All because I wanted to save those I loved, those I cared for and felt loyal to, while avoiding being tortured myself.

Maybe I wasn’t so different from King after all.

Oh, come on, Mia. You would never remove a couple of guys’ heads and plunk them in jars.

Really? But you’ll bargain to kill someone just to get a hand?

Yeah, but Vaughn is evil and…I shook my head. There I’d gone, justifying my horrific actions again.

Well, if I took away any one thing from these last few hours, it was that judging others before you’ve taken the time to fully understand their circumstances only made you an arrogant bastard. Because now I’d begun to see that the line between good and bad was far more blurred than I’d ever imagined.

So where was the real line? Was it murdering a good person versus someone who might deserve a horrible fate? Was the line a jagged illusion, only dictated by one’s own moral compass?

I didn’t know. But I was about to find out.

How far could I walk in King’s shoes before I was the person searching for salvation?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Callias has made me a happy woman. Last night, he promised to take the life of Draco so that he and I can be united. Yes, Callias will be my king, and I the queen of the brother who was truly meant to rule. All that remains to be done is ensure Draco’s death.

I begged Callias to slip hemlock into Draco’s drink or food, but true to Callias’s fearless nature, he will challenge Draco publically. A fight to the death. Though equal in size and build as my mighty Callias—after all, they are twin brothers—Draco does not have the heart of a warrior. He will not last but a few breaths before Callias takes his head.

I thank the gods for blessing me in finding Callias.

“I’m impressed, Miss Turner. You did well back there,” said a deep voice coming from the airplane seat beside me.

“King.” I placed my right hand over my accelerated heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Of course, it wasn’t really him. Why did my brain insist on doing this?

I thought about it for a moment. I suppose I still struggled to accept this new reality, which is why my brain kept inventing these little fantasies. Regardless, did he have to look so incredibly irresistible? He still wore black slacks and that partially unbuttoned tux shirt, which gave me a glimpse of his heavenly chest. And the way his large body took up the seat beside me—large, muscular thighs wide open, broad shoulders and a straight back—exuded an alluring confidence.

“Not my intention, I promise you.” He looked ahead, the muscles in his square, unshaved jaw ticking away. “Have you thought through the next part of your plan?”

I shrugged. “Well, I have to wait and see if Miranda delivers. In the meantime, I need to go through your catalog and find the serum—by the way, is it really Cleopatra’s blood?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Why would it be?” I countered. “Never mind. Not like you’d know anyways since I’m making you up.”

He flashed a grin. “Yes, indeed.”

“And it’s not like you could tell me where to find it. Or the ‘magic hands’ recipe. Or the poison. So I guess that’s what I’ll be doing for the next few hours.”

He scoffed. “You should be running. Miranda will double-cross you or kill you if you don’t deliver on your end of the deal—which you will not because you are not strong enough to kill Vaughn.”

“I’m going to ask your powerbroker guy to take him out in exchange for the stuff in your warehouse.”

King’s nostrils flared, and his dark brows pulled together. “You’re going to do what?” The made-up King appeared genuinely mad. And why wouldn’t he be? That’s exactly how the real King would react.

“It was Mack’s suggestion. Not mine. By the way,” I said casually, almost enjoying this strange therapy session with…well, myself, I supposed, “did I tell you how hard it is being you? I have no clue how you keep track of everything—all of the deals and debts and who has what and who to ask to do what. It’s crazy.”

King nodded in agreement. “I have a lot of practice.”

“Speaking of crazy—aside from the fact I’m sitting here on your plane, speaking to a pretend version of you that looks just like the real you—why am I reading this book? Is this your story? Are you Callias?”

King simply stared at me. “Why do you think I wanted you to read the book?”

“My best guess?”

He nodded.

“I think there’s something in this story you’re hoping will teach me a lesson or convince me what a horrible person you are. I think you want me to see that you’re not worth saving so that I’ll turn my back on you and try to save myself.”

“That would be a very good guess.” King ran his large hands through his perfectly combed, thick black hair.

“And you’d be right,” I said. “How in the world could you brand me as your…your…”

“As mine?” he asked and looked away toward the window. But there was nothing to see. It was pitch black out, and the sun wouldn’t be up for another hour or so. It annoyed me that he wouldn’t look me in the eyes, even if he was just a fantasy.

“Yes,” I seethed. “But the ‘mine’ part in your mind insinuates more than just being your property, which was bad enough.”

“You are referring to the sexual aspects?” He finally looked at me with those luminescent gray eyes, and it nearly stopped my heart. There was something about his directness that always unsettled me.

“Yes.” Now I was the one who had to look away, but King wasn’t having it. He gripped my chin and turned my head, forcing me to close my eyes.

“Look at me, Mia,” he commanded in that deep, angry voice that sent goose bumps soaring over my skin. “Look at me,” he repeated.

I sighed and opened my eyes. King’s powerful, hypnotic gaze instantly took hold and hobbled my ability to think straight. It felt like the rest of the world simply melted away, leaving him and me, and no one else.

“I want you, Mia. If you do not want me back, then I cannot force you. However, I will not share you with another.”

It wasn’t rational or something I felt proud of, but hearing such a powerful man—even this made-up version of him—say those possessive words produced a potent, sinful heat that charged straight through my core and between my legs. Being near him broke down my resolve and my ability to rationalize. It decimated my determination not to touch that flame, despite knowing its dangers. All of a sudden, I wasn’t Mia Turner—a thinking, breathing, real-life person with a family—I was simply…his. Nothing more. And I was all he ever wanted or needed.

“That’s what doesn’t make any sense, King,” my voice trembled. “How did you go from me not being your type to wanting me like this?”

His eyes focused on my lips as he took a moment to form his words, scratching the thick, black stubble on his angular jaw, something King always seemed to do when he battled inside his brain.

“I knew,” he finally said, his eyes locking onto mine, causing slight heart palpitations in my chest, “that I wanted you from that first moment. Something about the way you resisted me, that defiant look in your eyes—you should’ve been afraid of me, but were not. And when I saw my own reflection in your gaze, the colors of my soul staring back, I knew what you were. I knew I would have to make you mine.”

Don’t get sucked in, Mia. You know this isn’t really what you want.

“I’m not yours, King. That’s the point. You put a tattoo, without my permission, on my wrist. That doesn’t entitle you to anything.”

King’s voice deepened, sounding more determined to make me hear the truth in his words. “I did not take placing my mark on you lightly, Mia. I struggled for weeks with my conscience. I could let you go or take the steps to make you mine—something you had already agreed to.”

“I didn’t understand the terms,” I argued.

“You should have asked. But now you know who I am. And now you know that being in my world will ruin you. Now you know that I didn’t care. I marked you anyway.”

The horrible, unsightly point to this conversation wasn’t something I didn’t already know. He was selfish and uncaring. However, deep down inside, I really wanted to believe that King could be a good man.

Maybe that’s what your mind is wrestling with, Mia. King could be good or bad, but not both.

King stood in the center aisle, head touching the cabin’s ceiling. He cleared his throat, and his body language stiffened. “And now you’ve accomplished what I’d hoped.”

“Which is?” I looked up at him from my seat, feeling the full effects of his intimidating size and presence.

“You’ve argued yourself into a corner that clearly establishes why you must run. You cannot beat Vaughn at his games, but if you succeed and manage to save me, you’re only fighting for a fate you do not desire: being mine. Because I will not let you go.”

Ugh. I shook my head. “I can’t run, you moron.”

Anger flickered in his eyes. “And why not?”

“I know you disagree, but I think Vaughn will come after me. Then there’s the fact I can’t leave my family, especially my mother. I have no choice but to try to fix this. And…” I felt ridiculous saying my next thought aloud.

“Yes? Go on, Miss Turner.”

“A part of me feels obligated to save you after what you did for her. And my brother.” Yes, I understood he had ulterior motives—to win me over—but he’d done the kind deeds, nonetheless, including being there to defend me against Vaughn when I needed him. “I’m even grateful for what you did for me. Although, I never would have needed your help if you hadn’t sent me to that stupid party in the first place.”

King sighed. “I concede that I underestimated Vaughn’s ferocity. My ego sometimes blinds me.”

“Ha.” I chuckled. “That’s because it’s so damned huge.”

King shot me a look. “I thought you were through judging me.”

Yes. That’s what I’d been thinking about in the car to the airport after leaving Miranda’s. And, of course, made-up King would know that because he’s a product of my imagination.

“I’m not judging,” I argued. “I’m stating the obvious; there’s a difference. Saying you have a big ego is like saying you have beautiful eyes.”

“You think my eyes are beautiful?”

I began twirling the diamond ring on my finger. “Yeah. Most of you is pretty gorgeous. But I’ll try not to hold it against you. Especially the part about you living on champagne and cigars.”

His eyes flashed to the ring. “Do you like it?”

I made a noncommittal shrug. “Why did you give it to me?” I asked.

“Why do you think?”

“King? Can you answer the question?”

King leaned down, placing his hands on the armrests on either side of my lap, and kissed me. His lips were hot and sensual. His tongue was soft and warm. At first, I didn’t kiss him back. It felt strange allowing this fantasy to go in such an intimate direction, but as his sensual mouth moved over mine, I still melted for him as I had every other time he’d kissed me.

King slowly pulled back and gazed into my eyes. Made up or not, he was still sinfully handsome, especially those pale gray eyes.

I sighed. “If only the real King were this sweet.”

“Maybe he is after you get to know him.”

I laughed. “King is many things, but sweet is not one of them.”

“Right you are. And yet another reason you should run, Miss Turner.”

“You sound like Mack, but I’m not running, so drop it.”

King made a little nod. “Very well, then. But just remember what Mack told you, Mia. I will never share you. I will never trade you. I will never leave you. You are mine, and I will not let you go.”

Those words felt like a ton of bricks, filled with lust and adrenaline and fear, dropped on my head. The thought of him wanting me in such an absolute manner felt terrifying, yet at the same time, sparked a deep, dark satisfaction.

I took several moments to catch my breath and clear my throat. “You’ll have to. Because my saving you doesn’t mean I accept being yours.”

“Accept being whose?” asked a deep voice.

I glanced at the large man standing in the cockpit doorway, then towards King, who had disappeared and couldn’t be seen by Arno anyway.

Because you’re crazy and talking to yourself. “I’m crazy and talking to myself.”

“Very good,” Arno said in that unusual accent and then dipped his head. “We will be landing shortly.”

“Thanks.” He turned to leave. “By the way, where are you from, exactly, Arno?”

“I am from the island of Crete. Same as King.” He disappeared into the cockpit.

King was from Greece?

~~

“Did you know that King is Greek?” I asked Mack, who squinted at me with one eye from his hospital bed.

“My surgery went fine. Thanks for asking.”

I shook my head and pulled up a chair alongside his bed. “Sorry. I’m really spacy. I need sleep.”

“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 the 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—

“Miss Turner, there you are,” said a woman’s voice.

My head snapped up to the doorway of King’s chamber. It was Miranda wearing a leopard bodysuit, her bleached hair in a tight bun atop her head. Next to her stood her boy-toy Edward, who wore a hideous, bright-green jogging suit that had obviously been picked by his “owner.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. They weren’t due at King’s office for another forty minutes. And how the hell did she know about this place?

Shit. Try not to look surprised. Be calm.

“You’re early,” I said casually as I closed the book. “And you’re in the wrong place.”

“Well,” Miranda’s eyes scanned King’s chamber, “if you can barge into my home, then I can barge into yours.” She leisurely strolled toward the shelves as if she had all the time in the world, slow as mud.

“This isn’t my home; it’s King’s,” I pointed out.

She shrugged. “Not for much longer, I hear.”

Oh no. She knew about the deadline from the Club.

Don’t panic.

“You’re referring to the letter that Talia delivered yesterday?” I tried to sound amused.

She laughed. “What else?”

“I guess you saw her, and she told you all about it. Perhaps she also told you how to find this place?”

She shrugged happily and ran her fingers over the books on the shelf. “Hmmm…So many interesting things here. It would be a shame to see them fall into the wrong person’s hands.”

“King isn’t about to give up his possessions, and you, of all people, should know not to trust Talia.”

Miranda squinted with her thickly caked lashes. “You’re an idiot if you think anyone trusts anyone. And you’re a bigger idiot for trusting me.”

Crap. King was right. She was going to double-cross me. “You think I don’t know you’re not worth trusting? That you wouldn’t come through on your end of the deal?” Okay, I’d hoped she would, but now I needed to buy time and think of what I would do next.

“Huh! I never welch. Never.”

I stood from the armchair and set down the book, wondering what the hell sort of curve ball she was about to throw my way.

Miranda snapped her fingers, and in walked Vaughn.

Oh shit.

He had one arm—yes, that arm—in a sling, tucked underneath his puke-green tweed blazer that matched his puke-green polyester pants. His straggly silver hair hung down in clumpy wisps around his ruddy face, and a snide smile occupied his thin lips.

As for me, there was no more hiding my emotions. I was shocked as hell and out of party tricks, so I simply braced for what was about to come.

“As you see, Miss Turner,” said Miranda, “I have delivered. There is Edward, all ready for you, and I’ve delivered that hand, as promised.” She pointed to Vaughn’s bandaged arm. “In fact, I’ve delivered two of them.” She grinned and flashed her artificially whitened teeth. “Your turn!”

I was still digesting the fact that Vaughn was standing right in front of me. With two arms, no less.

“Yes, Miss Turner, it is your turn.” Vaughn’s eyes sparkled with malicious elation. “Take my head. I dare you.”

I blew out a breath. This was bad. So, so bad. But what could I do? Throw myself at his feet and beg for mercy? Or say I was sorry? Uh-uh. My only option was to try to defend myself. I seemed to recall seeing a few sharp objects in the kitchen area.

“Okay. But let me get you something to numb the pain first.” I headed toward the kitchen.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, Miss Turner?” Vaughn asked.

I stilled and slowly turned to face them again. All three were smiling, clearly enjoying watching me squirm. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

“So,” I lifted my chin, “how did they manage to get that arm back on? All those stitches must’ve really hurt.”

Vaughn laughed, amused by it all. He knew he had me trapped. “Oh, no. I like pain. And so will you…Well, you’ll learn to live with it, anyway. At least for the few days I keep you alive while I skin you.”

My stomach turned, and bile crept up my throat. Where was King? Because if he’d been real, now was a really, really good time for him to show up.

Unsure of what else to say, I cleared my throat. “You don’t think that King will let you get away with this—taking his stuff, taking me?”

He looked at Miranda, and they both shrugged. “We are not going to take anything. The Club will.”

“It won’t matter to King. He’ll still come after you.”

“Where he is at,” Vaughn said, “there’s not much he’ll be able to do. The dead do not speak.”

What. Oh no. No… “You killed him?”

“No, no, no.” Vaughn seemed more amused than ever. “We would never harm a gorgeous, silky hair on his beautiful head.”

My heart sank into a deep, dark hole. Was King still alive but they intended to kill him soon? Or have someone kill him? Or did they mean he was dead already? I didn’t know.

No, he can’t be dead. He just came to see you. Or had I been imagining his visits?

Miranda looked at her watch. “Oops. We gotta run. Having breakfast martinis with Talia to calm her down. She was pretty pissed that you ruined that serum, but we’ve assured her you will pay. Oh, and the next time you try to poison someone, you might want to use something odorless.” All three turned toward the door. “See you at seven o’clock. Tah-tah!”

Wait. They’re leaving? Not that I was complaining, but I simply didn’t understand.

“By the way,” Vaughn said, “we have Mack and Arno. If you run, they will be killed when the Club takes over King’s estate.”

Just when I thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, it did. And I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of despair. This was all my fault. I should have insisted they run. Why had I thought I could go up against these monsters? I was no match. Not for horrible, evil people like these.

“And if I stay?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Are you going to let Arno and Mack go? Unharmed?”

“Are you trying to make another deal, Miss Turner?” Vaughn coughed up a slimy phlegm ball. “Your word means nothing to me. You’re not a member of the Club.” He headed for the door.

Quick. Say something! “That doesn’t mean you can’t make a deal with me. Tell me what you want.”

Vaughn’s hazy brown eyes narrowed. “I already have what I want. Or I will. And that will include the joy of peeling the skin from your body, Miss Turner. Of hearing you scream. There is nothing else that I want from you.”

“Fine. But I won’t be here when they come for me unless you guarantee that no one will harm Mack or Arno.”

Vaughn walked over and stood a few inches from me. Being near him made my entire body feel like it was being overrun with toxic radiation. “You won’t run, Miss Turner. We both know that heart of yours is much too kind to permit Mack and Arno to take your place.”

“They won’t scream for you,” I said. That was what Vaughn kept saying he wanted: screaming. My screaming in particular. “They won’t even break a sweat for you.”

Vaughn chuckled. “Very well.” He flipped his wrist through the air. “I’m in such a good mood today, I will agree. It will be my gift to you.” He took my hand and kissed the top. A thick blanket of red light coated my vision.

I snapped my hand away. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

He thought it through for a moment. “I will have them call you to confirm they are free.”

“Fine.” It was the best I’d be getting from a man like Vaughn, and frankly, I was about to break down and cry, cry like I’d never cried before.

We’d failed. I failed. It was game over. All of King’s deals were still outstanding, and by now, everyone probably knew Mack, Arno, and I were only pretending to be King. And if they didn’t know, surely Anna—the hundred year old frenemy of Talia, who Mack had slept with—would be telling every club member in this hemisphere the moment she learned that Talia was still alive.

We were screwed, and there was simply no other way to say it.

As soon as the evil couple and their man-toy departed, I slammed the steel door shut and curled up on King’s armchair. When the tears finally came, they didn’t stop. I didn’t want to accept that it would all end like this. King and me dead. Arno and Mack…well, who knew? And my family, devastated.

I went to the kitchen and splashed cold water on my face, then dialed Justin. As usual, the idiot didn’t answer. “Justin.” I sniffled. “I—I—” I was about to tell him the truth, that I needed to say goodbye, but I realized he’d only attempt to save me and make another deal with Vaughn.

I whisked a tear from my eye and held the phone in my trembling hand. Justin—God, how I love you. I hope that you’ll move on and be happy. That you’ll be there for Mom and Dad to help them, too. And…I want you to know how grateful I am to have been your sister through all those times you were there for me. Those were the words I wanted to say, but couldn’t. And it broke my heart not to be able to tell my little brother how much he meant to me.

Instead, I said, “I, uh…everything is going to be okay. I’m just a little shaken up. I just wanted to say that I love you and…call me back, all right?” I ended the call and screamed.

I couldn’t believe this was where it was all going to end. There had to be a way out. There had to be. But just in case, I had to see my parents one last time.

CHAPTER TEN

11:45 A.M.

When I walked into her hospital room, my mother was sitting up, reading in bed, her blonde hair in a short ponytail.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, trying my best to sound cheery.

“Mia!” Her smile lit up the room for a brief moment until she caught my obvious signs of distress—red eyes, frazzled appearance, and, no doubt, a look of defeat on my face.

“Baby, what’s the matter?” she asked. “And why are you still wearing the same clothes from yesterday?”

I looked down at my body. I guess I was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. After I’d gone to see Miranda, I threw back on my jeans and red sweater. I really needed to go home—aka my parents’ house, where I was now staying—and have a long, hot shower and one last meal before 10 Club came for me tonight.

I feel like an inmate on death row. Lord, this is awful.

I sat next to her and tried to hold in the hysterical scream. “Yeah. I forgot to do laundry. Been really busy.”

She shook her head. “Don’t lie to me. What’s the matter?”

I sighed. “Nothing. I just…got some really bad news today. About a job I wanted, that’s all.” I straightened my spine. “But I’ll be okay.”

She patted my hand. “Not to worry; you’ll find something soon. You’re smart and talented.”

Apparently, not smart enough. My life was about to end.

“I’m sure something will come along.” I sighed. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Great!” she said in a sweet, peppy tone. “Ready to go home tonight. I can’t tell you how much I miss my bed. And my own cooking. And sleeping next to your snoring father.”

I chuckled. “That’s awesome news, Mom. I know I keep saying this every time I see you, but I’m so happy you’re okay.” I could only hope my disappearance wouldn’t undo the progress she’d made, but I had to maintain hope that she’d make it through what was to come. With Justin and my father by her side, she had a chance.

I looked at my watch. It was almost noon. “Where’s Dad?”

“He won’t be back until later when it’s time to release me. He had errands to run.” She leaned in and whispered, “I think he’s planning a little welcome home surprise for me.” She winked.

I smiled. He probably was. My dad was that kind of guy, always sweet and thoughtful, and he worshiped the ground my mother walked on.

“And Justin?” I asked.

My mother looked surprised. “Didn’t Justin tell you? I thought maybe that was what upset you.”

“Uh-uh.” I shook my head no.

My mother took a shallow breath. “Do you remember a few weeks ago, when Justin told us his team in Mexico vanished?”

Justin hadn’t said much to my parents about it, other than he hadn’t been onsite at the time and that the police didn’t know anything.

I nodded yes. “How could I forget?”

“They found them,” she said. “They’re dead. Someone buried those poor men right inside the dirt they’d been digging in.”

“Oh my God.” I didn’t have to fake being surprised because I was. I hadn’t expected anyone to find them for months. Who had tipped them off? King? Justin? Another person? I guess it didn’t really matter. “That’s awful. Do they know who did it?” Because I did. It was Vaughn.

My mother looked extremely shaken. I’m sure she was thinking how Justin could have easily ended up being one of the dead. “Justin said they think a local group of rebels are responsible, but I wonder if it has something to do with the work he’s been doing with the government.”

Oh Lord. More lies. I felt buried in them now. King had shown up at my parents’ house several weeks ago to stop me from telling them that Justin had gone missing. King said that there was no point in saying anything because they’d just worry and we didn’t know what had happened. Really, he’d been concerned about my attention going towards two worried parents versus locating the Artifact. In any case, King told them that Justin had been working with the U.S. government down in Mexico on some narco crap and would, therefore, be unreachable for some time. It was such a crock, but King used his charming voodoo crap on them or something, and they bought it.

“I just hope Justin isn’t mixed up in something too dangerous.” She threaded her fingers together as if she were praying. “I tried to stop him from going back, but he insisted on leaving this morning to help the families bring back the bodies.”

I hung my head. Although the pain would be horrific, at least for the families the torture of waiting would finally end.

My mom sighed. “Those poor, poor parents. But I know Justin will do everything possible to help them. He’s such a good boy.eHH”

Was he? Then why hadn’t Justin told me he was leaving? He knew I was in trouble. It just seemed so…so…unlike him to take off like that. I wonder where he really went?

Then a horrible thought sideswiped me. Oh no. God, no. I hope he didn’t go to see Vaughn to make a deal for me.

I felt a sour lump in my throat. “I—I—I’m sure Justin called to tell me all about it; I just haven’t listened to my messages.” I didn’t know what else to say. I was seriously worried. And confused. And I needed to say goodbye to my mother before I had a mental breakdown right in front of her. Because if Justin had gone against my wishes and landed himself in trouble again—Ugh!—I wouldn’t be there to help him.

I put on my game face and tried to remain calm. “Hey, Mom? Can you tell Dad…”

“Yes?”

I sighed. “That I love him, and I’ll call as soon as I can.”

My mother frowned. “Where are you going?”

“I have an interview in Paris,” I lied. At least this way, my mother could enjoy a few days at home before she began to worry.

“Oh, honey, that’s wonderful.”

I shrugged. “I’d been hoping to get something closer to home, especially now, but—”

My mother grabbed me and hugged me. “Is that why you were crying?”

I didn’t reply. Lying to her felt so wrong.

“Well, the one thing I’ve learned from all this, Mia, is that you have to live your life and enjoy every minute. So don’t ever let us hold you back. Got it? Your father and I want you to be happy.”

I couldn’t bear to look at her. “Thanks, Mom. I knew you’d understand.” I stood up. “I’m sorry I can’t be there tonight, but I have to fly out in a few hours.”

My mother smiled reassuringly. “Not to worry. We’ll celebrate when you’re back.”

I took one last look at her. “Tell Dad to behave, okay.” I winked.

“Oh! I almost forgot. That man who works with Justin stopped by to check on me. He was asking about you.” She paused, thinking. “You know, that’s the other reason I think Justin might not be sharing the whole truth about Mexico.”

My mind shuffled, quickly trying to process. “Mom, what are you talking about?”

“Well, don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence that King man comes by on the day Justin leaves? I bet Justin asked him to keep an eye on me.”

“King was here? Today?”

“He came to see me earlier,” she said.

“When?” Was my mother going insane like me?

“A couple hours ago.”

A couple? “King was here? With you? Two hours ago?”

“Yes, why?”

Oh my God. That was about the time Vaughn and Miranda showed up at the warehouse.

If King had been here, then maybe, just maybe he was still alive and Vaughn had been lying. It also meant that those visits of his were real. But that wouldn’t explain why King kept coming and going. Not that the popping in and out of thin air was abnormal for the man given he had that ability. (Yes, it still scared the hell out of me that he could do that.) However, why wouldn’t King pop in and help us? I mean, we were in a crisis. And the Club was about to take all of his crap away!

You’re not crap. Neither are Arno and Mack. No, we weren’t. And I was supposedly King’s “most prized possession,” which made it even more illogical that King would simply abandon everyone.

I’m so confused.

“What did he say?” I asked my mother.

“He said not to worry. That everything would work out. I assume that he meant Justin’s work. ”

Of course, that would be wrong because King didn’t really work with Justin. So what had King really meant? Had he been referring to my situation? Or his?

I swallowed back my tears and covered my face to hide the confusion and torment in my eyes.

“Mia, I know this might sound crazy, but I don’t think that man is who he says.”

She was right. She thought he was some secret government agent. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

Her blue eyes fixed on her clasped hands. “I know you’ll think I’m crazy, Mia, but when I was in a coma, I dreamed of that man. I think he brought me back. No, I don’t know how, and I won’t dare question it because I’m grateful. But that man, I swear…he’s…he’s…there’s something different about him.”

I held my hand to my mouth and nodded frantically at her. The tears began to stream. “Yes, Mom, I think you’re right.”

“Honey? Why are you crying?”

I began to sob even harder. King was alive, but I didn’t begin to understand what was really happening. I needed to leave before I lost it. “I’m crying because I’m happy, Mom. That’s all,” I lied again, feeling so ashamed of who I was becoming. I stood and kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Bye, sweetie.”

I left one final message for Justin during the cab ride back to my parents’ house, where I planned to shower, eat, and gather up some clothes and things to make it look like I’d actually taken a trip. While leaving the message for Justin, I prayed he’d told my mother the truth and had actually gone to Mexico. But given that I strongly suspected otherwise, I begged him to stay away from Vaughn and any other 10 Club members. “No more deals, Justin. Promise me.” Not that Justin would have anything to trade. Vaughn now held all the cards, including King.

I hung up and stared out the window. It was a bright and sunny day for once, but my mind felt like soup. King…King…What is going on? My mind whipsawed back to all of the dangling threads I couldn’t tie together. So many things just didn’t make sense: King popping in and out, telling me to run, telling me to read that horrible story about Hagne and Draco. Then there was the fact that King had said he didn’t want to disclose where he was so we wouldn’t come looking for him. Is King hiding out from Vaughn? Is that what this was all about?

If that was the case, why would Vaughn tell me that King was dead, when clearly he wasn’t? My mother had seen King a few hours ago, about the same time Vaughn, Miranda, and her boy-toy had come to see me.

Nothing made sense.

Unless King is pretending to be dead, which Vaughn believes, and now King is trying to hide from Vaughn?

No. No. That doesn’t make sense, either. King wouldn’t hang us out to dry. Would he? I mean, I knew the man was dark and cold, but he wouldn’t allow the Club to take “ownership” of us simply to fake a disappearance.

Ugh. I don’t know! Maybe he would. Or maybe I was missing something. Something big.

~~

While at my parents’ house, I made a pathetic attempt to calm myself and prepare for what was to come. However, instead of getting the grip I so desperately needed, I’d ended up working myself into a frenzied panic. My tortured mind drilled in on the fact that I’d been laser-focused on stopping the Club from seizing King’s property, but I was overlooking something bigger and perhaps, more importantly, another way out. Then it occurred to me that I’d never found King’s copy of the Club’s rules.

I took a two-minute shower, threw on a clean pair of jeans and a navy blue sweater, scarfed down some cold lasagna I’d found in the fridge, and shoved a bunch of random clothes in an overnight bag. I needed to get back to that warehouse.

Yes, at this point, I realized I was grasping at straws, but perhaps I could find a loophole. For example, if I proved that King was taken or that there was some foul play, maybe the Club would have to investigate before seizing King’s property. Or maybe I’d find some other rule to escape this situation. Who knew? But I had to try.

When I arrived back at King’s warehouse, I ran upstairs to his chamber. I searched through every shelf, but only found more of King’s books and journals. There were perhaps a hundred written by hand. I only wished I had the time to read them. Sadly, however, after digging through all the shelves, I couldn’t find the rules.

I stopped to think. The only other place that I knew of where King stored his things were the shelves downstairs. I marched over to the coffee table and picked up King’s giant catalog.

10 Club rules. 10 Club rules. Items were ordered alphabetically, so I opened the book to the first page, thinking he might’ve cataloged names of items starting with numbers first.

The first entry, however, was something I hadn’t expected. The Artifact.

Lot #: TBD. The Artifact

Origins: Unknown

Characteristics: will resurrect the dead

Crap. I nearly dropped the catalog on my foot. This is what King is after? An object that can resurrect the dead?

I chewed on my thumbnail for a moment, mulling it over. Was bringing someone back even possible? If King dedicated every resource he had in search of it, then I had to believe it was the real deal. Even Justin had said that when he held it, he saw things, he felt its power.

Bad power, though.

The thoughts circling inside my head landed on one point: Why was King after it? I mean, obviously he intended to bring someone back, but who?

I checked my watch again. Okay. Focus. Find the rules. I hoped and prayed that I’d find something I could use to stop the Club from taking me. Please be here. Please be here… Nothing.

I thumbed through the R pages, and there they were: Rules, 10 Club.

“Lot number two thousand and seven hundred.”

I bolted downstairs and found the thing rolled up on a shelf near the front door. The entire time, the rules had been right under our noses.

I took the scroll up to King’s chamber, bolting the steel door behind me. I unwound the rolled-up paper and spread it out on King’s coffee table. A tribute to the 10 Club’s arrogance, they only had ten rules, written as if they were commandments from the Bible. Thou shalt, though shalt not, etc.

As Mack had described, stealing, killing, and welching on debts were amongst the “thou shalt nots.” In most cases, the penalties, if caught, were the member’s loss of wealth. When a member died, however, the rules shifted. Property did not go to 10 Club; in fact, members were prohibited from inheriting another member’s wealth so as not to encourage members to kill each other. Property would go to the member’s designated trust, closest non-10 Club family member, or significant other as long as they were not a member.

Shit. There was nothing there to help me. Nothing at all. I scrunched the paper into a ball and tossed it to the floor. I had exhausted all options.

I leaned back in King’s armchair and closed my eyes. I felt like I was standing on a small stone in the middle of a raging river, staring at a flashflood coming my way. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. And at every turn, my efforts to escape this horror only made things worse. The hole kept getting deeper.

You mean the river keeps getting wider? I thought to myself.

Yes. What was I supposed to do now? Nothing but wait and hope King showed up in the nick of time to save me?

~~

Draco is not weak. Draco is not kind. Draco is colder and harder than any soul I have ever seen, and if I’d bothered to see him, truly see him, I would have known that my disgust of the man was not for his weakness but because a monster lie waiting inside. Seven months of being in Draco’s dungeon has taught me this.

And now that he has returned this book to me, I suspect my remaining days are but a handful. No doubt, the cruel, cruel man wishes me to capture my final moments of suffering so that he may revel in them after my death. However, I care not. My thoughts are focused on other miseries. My belly is large and ripe with the baby I will never see grow, and I now pray that Draco will show it the mercy he has denied my family. As hard as I try not to dwell, not to give Draco the satisfaction of seeing me weep, I cannot hide the horror I am filled with each time I think upon what he did to my mother, father, and sister. Even the head of Callias remains on a spike outside my window as a reminder of how I misjudged Draco. But I do not need a reminder.

In the first weeks after he imprisoned me, he read this journal. Draco came to my cell nightly and screamed for hours. He never hit me, but I saw the look in his eyes. Oh, how he wanted to. He wanted to tear me limb from limb. He blamed me for taking his brother, his peace of mind, and most of all, for destroying a love he never had. The man lived in a world of disillusion and believed that I felt something for him once, that I’d destroyed something precious between us.

Fool. My Seer blood knew from the beginning what he was. It knew that I could never love such a despicable man.

If you should read this, Draco, know that the moment you take my life, I shall look into your eyes and curse you. I will bind you to my blood. As long as Seers of Light inhabit this earth, you will feel my hatred of you. You will see yourself only through my eyes. You will never be loved by anyone. You will never know peace. You will never be my king. You are nothing.

I gasped at the horrifically malicious words. Had she really cursed him? Did such things actually exist? After everything I’d seen, perhaps it wasn’t such a farfetched notion. But Draco wasn’t a monster. Hagne was insane and had pushed him into a corner. She’d orchestrated a tragedy that should never have happened. No, I didn’t believe that killing her family was justice served, but at the same time, if I were to put myself in Draco’s shoes, it wasn’t hard to imagine being so overcome with despair that I might do some seriously messed-up things in retribution. Sometimes it’s the things we are driven to do by our circumstances that are bad, not the person. Make a man hungry enough, and he might rob a store. Back an honest man into a corner, and he might lie to save himself. Push a man, beat a man, make him feel desperate enough, he might kill. Could I say I agreed with what Draco did? No. Could I condemn him? No.

So what lesson was I to learn from all this? I wondered.

I write to you, Hagne, knowing that your earthly shell has long since passed, as did that of your daughter. I know not if she was mine or truly Callias’s, but she was my blood, nonetheless, and received an honored burial. And though I know my cruelty toward you killed her even before her birth, I do not regret allowing you to rot in that cell. You were not worthy of the kindness or love I bestowed upon you. But our people were worthy, and I should have had the strength to prevent them from going to war with one another after Callias’s death. Thanks to your evil heart, I had not the will to see a future or breathe or care as everyone around me died. So it is not simply my or Callias’s death on your hands, but that of our people.

I paused and reread that last sentence three times. “My,” he said, “my.” But…but…I reread it one more time. Did he mean his death in the metaphorical sense?

It has taken me many years to write these words, to acquire the powers that grant me a piece of the life I once had. But despite all that I have, I cannot overcome the pain and regret, the deep sorrow you have cursed me with. It has robbed me of the emotions I once felt for those I loved or anything else of value in this world, just as your curse robbed me of my body. However, I will not allow you to win, Hagne. I will search the ends of the earth to find a way to raise you from the dead so that I may enjoy watching you die once more. Meanwhile, I will hunt and kill every last Seer on this planet to which my spirit is bound, and I will take delight in knowing that I am killing a piece of you.

I will not be a ghost forever, Hagne. And even in death, I am still your king.

Oh my God. I closed the book and stared at my trembling hands.

King is Draco. And he’s…dead?

“But how is he still walking around?” I whispered to myself.

Oh God! And he’s killing off the Seers? My blood pressure dropped to the floor. Oh God. King is a ghost. A goddamned ghost. Who wants to kill me!

I shook my head in disbelief while my mind started sliding those little loose threads into gruesome knots, forming a ghastly and implausible tapestry.

Oh my Lord…it can’t be. He can’t be.

But there they were, the strange, undeniable facts staring me in the face. The way he appeared and disappeared. His ability to get inside my head and know what I was thinking. The way he behaved—like a barbarian from another time who followed only one set of rules: his. Then there were his other strange “gifts,” like killing a person with the flick of his hand.

My heart hammered away inside my chest. My temples throbbed. This is what he wanted me to know.

“A ghost, King?” I whispered aloud, nearing hysteria as I tried to accept these clashing realities. King wasn’t some eccentric, powerful, mysterious billionaire with a private jet and face of a god. King was a king. A ghost. A man cursed, looking for an end to his torment. And clearly, he’d lied about not wanting revenge, as he’d once told me. He wanted it, all right. He wanted to bring back Hagne and kill that bitch all over again. He wanted to wipe any remnants of her off the face of the planet. It wasn’t just about ending his curse.

I leaned forward in King’s armchair and rubbed my swollen eyes. A ghost…a ghost…King is dead. The saddest part of all was that I wanted King, or Draco, to find peace. Not revenge, but peace. That horrible, insane woman—who, apparently, Draco loved deeply—pushed him over the edge and broke him. She’d orchestrated Callias’s death by Draco’s own hand. Then she cursed him to live with his pain and guilt forever.

I had tasted that pain. It was the kind of sorrow and anguish that could bring a person to his or her knees and beg for death. It was the kind of torment that would make any normal person crazy enough that they might burn down the whole world simply to end the suffering. I just wished I could tell King that I understood. That part of me couldn’t blame him for wanting salvation so badly that he would kill to get it. And I had been right; he wasn’t a monster, but a beautiful man who’d been hurt.

As much as I hated myself for feeling sympathetic, I couldn’t help but want King’s suffering to end. I just…I just didn’t want to die to give it to him.

My cell phone rang, but I didn’t recognize the number.

“H—hello?” There was nothing but static on the line. “King? Is that you?”

“Mia, it’s Mack.” His voice sounded like death warmed over.

Oh my God. “Mack.” My voice was nothing more than a shallow croak. “Are you and Arno somewhere safe?”

“Yes. For now.”

Vaughn had kept his end of the bargain. Another shock for the day. “Run, Mack. You have to run with Arno.”

“We can’t abandon you,” he said.

“It’s over, Mack.” At least I could free him and Arno from this nightmare. But they had to run. Perhaps if he believed King was gone, he’d have no reason to stay and try to save me. “King is…dead. Really, really dead.”

“Yes, I know,” Mack replied.

That wasn’t the answer I’d expected. “W-what? What do you mean?”

“I mean, he died a long time ago.”

“You knew?” I asked.

“Yes. And so did you on some level. Think about it, Mia.”

I swallowed the bile crawling its way up my throat, realizing that this was what had been giving me the headaches. This was the conflict my mind couldn’t sort through and had been making me sick. It had been King all along.

“How can he seem so…real?” I asked.

“Because he’s very old and very powerful and…because he is real. I understand that you have a lot of questions, Mia, but we need to—”

“Did you know that he wants to kill me?”

“That’s not true, Mia. He doesn’t want to hurt you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, I do.”

“Really? How many Seers has he killed?” I asked.

There was a long pause. To me, that meant “a lot,” but I’d been hoping Mack might’ve said “none.”

Oh Lord. Draco’s journal entry said the curse would last as long as Seers roamed the earth. How many were left? How many stood between King and his freedom from hell?

“I’m not the last one, am I?” My voice came out scarcely louder than a whisper.

“Yes. I mean—probably. We think so.”

Fuck. No, King. No. It would explain why King latched onto me like he had. I was his ticket out of his hell. That’s why I was so goddamned important to him. My only question was why hadn’t he killed me yet?

He wants revenge first. He wants the Artifact to raise Hagne and kill her. What other reason could there be?

I felt that tiny spark of hope I had for King, that something good lie dormant inside just waiting to be awakened, die a cold, miserable death.

“I see,” I said coolly.

“He doesn’t want to hurt you, Mia.”

But I couldn’t believe that. He was loyal to King. And in Miranda’s own words, only a fool would trust anyone.

“Do what you need to, Mack. Goodbye.”

I ended the call and didn’t answer when Mack rang again. And again. And again. I had nothing to say. I was going to die one way or another. King, Vaughn, 10 Club…

Die. I’m going to die. I began to cry and laugh at the same time, feeling a ludicrous sense of relief that the end of my life would at the very least put an end to this tragedy. My big fat Greek-tragedy death. After all, hadn’t Arno—or Draco—said they were both from Crete?

Why was I even thinking about that? I should be thinking about what a giant fool I’d been right from the start. I shook my head, mentally berating myself. You knew something was not right with King. But this? I’d completely had my blinders on.

Hell, Mia, no one could have seen this coming. No one. Because it’s…fucking impossible.

Still, I couldn’t help thinking if I’d just opened my eyes, I might’ve seen the truth.

Maybe I’d been distracted by his seductive lips or the hypnotic effect of those pale gray eyes outlined by thick black lashes? Perhaps my attention had been hijacked by the godlike perfection of his masculine body and that deep, room-filling voice he used to control my emotions. Maybe I’d missed the truth because he scared the living hell out of me. Yes, his ferocity was a definite distraction. No man should be that lethal and powerful. No man.

And now you know why.

I closed the thick leather-bound book and crushed it against my chest, clenching my eyes shut, holding back the tears of horror that begged to be set free with a scream.

The man known as King, the man who was said to be able to “find anything or anyone for a price,” was so good at hunting because he had spent a lifetime searching for the one thing he needed most: salvation from the hell of his existence.

And, perhaps, revenge.

I sighed. Dear Lord. Despite every terrifying detail I now knew about the man, a part of me wanted him to have peace. No one should be allowed to suffer so much in one lifetime. Not even King.

I dropped my face into my hands. “King,” I said with a sad breath, “if there’s any chance in hell you can hear me, I want you to know that—”

The heavy steel door to King’s chamber burst open.

“They’re here,” I whispered.

And they were early.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

They had used something to knock me out so I never saw their faces. But when I awoke, blindfolded, hands bound in front, and my body crammed into a narrow space—a closet I presumed—I recognized the roar of a plane’s engine.

Not that I had a clue as to how long I’d been out, but after two hours, I knew for sure we weren’t heading to Los Angeles. After what I guessed were five hours, when the plane stopped to refuel, I figured we were outside the U.S., somewhere far, far away where no one would ever find me. No one except King.

Who will kill you himself, anyway, and is a… is a…I could still scarcely believe it. I mean I had touched this man. He had touched me. Intimately. Yes, he had strange abilities and was shrouded in a cloud of mystery, but he was no phantom. The guy had a chauffeur, owned a jet, and wore suits, for God’s sake. And spirits didn’t go around working out of offices. Or murdering people.

Clearly, King does. The man defies every law known to mankind. And, my God, he really wants to kill me. Perhaps the most troubling and unbelievable part of this entire story.

But not such a terrible fate given the alternative. Because when “they” (I heard multiple, muffled voices through the closet door) let me out to use the bathroom, still blindfolded, I heard the vile sounds of Vaughn moaning with pleasure while I relieved myself.

Disgusting, psycho pig. It made me wish I’d opted for peeing in my pants, especially when he offered to wipe me and I felt his hand on my thigh. I kicked at him and screamed that I’d rather die than let him touch me. He’d simply laughed and said that he liked it when they fought; it made it so much more pleasurable for him.

He threw me back into the closet for an endless stretch of time, where I had ample opportunity to pull up my jeans on my own. At one point, my legs and neck cramped so hard from being in the tiny space, my entire body went numb. And each time I saw a sliver of light through the narrow slot at the bottom of the blindfold, I felt my heart choking on fear. It sensed that Vaughn was near, and I could only imagine what he was doing. Perhaps jerking off while watching me suffer?

Sick bastard.

But not once, not even for a second, did I feel King’s presence. It was as if he’d abandoned me all together. Maybe he wanted to prove he’d been right for telling me to run when I had the chance? That was the funny thing about being crammed in a closet on a plane to face a fate worse than death; it gives you time to reflect.

I thought deeply about my mistakes and wondered what I could’ve done differently. However, each alternate path—running away or never having gone searching for Justin when he’d disappeared—would never have worked. I cared too much, just as Vaughn pointed out before he’d taken me.

Being in that closet gave me time to realize that no matter what, I had done what I felt was right. I had to stop blaming myself for being too trusting or always wanting to see the good in people. Even dead kings.

When the plane finally landed, they pulled me from the closet and threw me inside a van, where I had plenty of room to stretch my legs across the cold steel floor. I don’t think we drove longer than an hour, but every passing minute felt like both a blessing and a horrific torture. One more breath, one more second of precious life. One more breath, one step closer to death.

The van finally stopped moving, and that’s when things started to get really hard for me. Panic, the will to fight and survive, outrage, they all began to take hold.

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” I growled as someone, I assumed a-hole Vaughn, pushed me along a paved surface. I didn’t know the hour, but I could see through my blindfold it was nighttime. We could be going anywhere—a cave, a secret 10 Club prison—I didn’t know, but the smell of salty air told me we were near an ocean.

“To my very special place for very special ladies like you,” said Vaughn, confirming he was in fact the person shoving me along.

“Let me guess? A place where no one can hear me scream?” I asked.

Vaughn chuckled and pushed me forward again. He shuffled me down three flights of stairs and then removed my blindfold. I squinted while my eyes adjusted to the bare light bulb dangling overhead. It was a small room with cement floors, black walls, a bed in one corner, and a toilet and sink in the other. Your basic jail cell.

“Actually,” he said, his hazy brown eyes glittering with wicked bliss, “I wouldn’t say ‘no one’ will hear you scream.” He pointed toward a 360-degree camera mounted to the corner of the ceiling inside a small cage. “I’d say the cell is designed so many can hear your screams. They pay good money for it.”

“They? They who?”

“My clientele, Miss Turner. You didn’t think that I would hurt you and not allow others to join in on the fun? I’ve already sold one hundred tickets to your skinning.”

I wanted to throw up. That this sort of sickness even existed in the world was something I would never have believed. And this horror of a human being was selling tickets.

“So what’s the going rate?” I asked bitterly.

“A million dollars.”

A million bucks? One hundred people paid a million bucks to see me tortured to death? What the hell is wrong with the world? “When will the ‘fun’ start?” I seethed.

“Normally I would wait a week so that I can give everyone the opportunity to buy a ticket, but I’ve been itching for you, Miss Turner. I’ve dreamed of hearing you scream every night since we met. Oh, yes. I bet you scream pretty.” He dug his nails into his jaw and scratched hard, leaving bloody streaks on his skin. “Tomorrow night will be your special time.”

I wasn’t sure how, but I promised myself that payback would come. I was a Seer. Maybe I could curse him like Hagne had cursed King?

Vaughn sighed happily. “Oh! Before I forget, I have a special treat for you, Mia.” He scurried off, leaving me standing in the center of the cramped room. I wondered if I could run, but as soon as I stepped into the corridor, I saw the pointlessness to that plan. There were heavy iron gates on both ends of the hallway. Nowhere to run except to another room, of which there were three all in a row.

Vaughn stuck his greasy head of hair out of the nearest doorway and waved me over. “Don’t be afraid. I promise you’ll enjoy this.”

I slowly approached, terrified by what he wanted to show me. I prayed it wasn’t one of his recent makeover victims. “Come on now, Miss Turner. I have a dinner party tonight. No time to lose.” He reached forward and yanked me by the hand.

When I reluctantly peered inside, the strength in my legs washed away. Shit! I braced myself against the door jamb.

King’s limp body lay on the small, twin-sized bed. His feet dangled over the edge, and one arm hung on the floor.

“You can see him, can’t you?” Vaughn asked.

I nodded yes. “What did you do to him?”

Vaughn let out an accomplished sigh. “That’s my little secret. But he’ll not be sneaking away for little visits anymore!” He snickered. “Oh, but not to worry. As promised, he will be wide awake to watch while I peel the flesh from your bones.” Vaughn made a strange little bow. “Sleep tight.”

He left me there with King, and I heard the iron gate close. I quickly peeked outside in the corridor to ensure Vaughn was truly gone before rushing back. “King? King,” I whispered. “Wake up.” I shook him by the shoulders, but he wasn’t moving. I put my ear to his mouth, and there was no breath either.

I was about to freak the hell out when I realized that the man I was seeing was already dead.

I stared closely at the fine details of his handsome, peaceful face—light-olive skin, sultry lips, his straight nose and thick black growth of stubble. I cautiously reached out and ran my fingertips over his eyebrow. Its texture was fine and silky. Then I glided my hand over his cheekbone, down his neck, and to his exposed collarbone that showed through his partially unbuttoned dress shirt.

Jesus, what did Vaughn do to you? King’s elaborate collar tattoo was gone. I pushed open the shirt a little wider to inspect for marks. The skin was in perfect condition as was the rest of his beautiful body. He was warm and firm to the touch. Not cold or clammy. Not transparent or permeable like I’d seen ghosts in movies. King was real and solid and felt very much alive.

He’s still a ghost.

I began to cry. “God, King, why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

But if he had told me that he was the spirit of a cursed king roaming the earth, searching for salvation from his personal hell, would I have believed him? Actually, given everything I’d seen the man do? Yeah. I think I would have. Would I have run like he’d asked? Even if he’d confessed to killing Seers? No. I’d already thought that through on the plane. I would have ended up in this very spot, and maybe King knew that. He seemed to know a lot of things.

I lowered myself to sit beside the bed, on the cold cement floor, and tried desperately to ignore the violent reds that stained every inch of every surface. Vaughn had hurt a lot of people down here in his “special” rooms, the sick, sick bastard.

Instead, I focused on King, thinking through our every encounter. How had I missed it? The way the man seemed to climb out of the shadows and into my head; the way he mesmerized me with his presence. He was anything but a man, yet all I saw was a handsome billionaire in a nice suit, with a jet and some serious personality quirks.

I laughed quietly to myself, remembering what King had told me once: “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miss Turner, but there are only two types of people in this world: living or dead. I’m afraid there isn’t much in between.”

I guess he was the “not much in between.” Mack even mentioned that some part of me knew what King was, but that I hadn’t wanted to accept it. He’d been right. It was why my head always ached.

I sighed. So this was it. I was going to die. Here. With Draco the cursed king from some Greek island. The king who’d had his heart decimated by a psycho bitch that decided destroying him for one lifetime wasn’t enough. All because she saw him as weak for being kind to his people. “I think you fucked with the wrong king, Hagne.” And thank you psycho-Seer for fucking up my life, too.

Damn. I almost hoped King succeeded in resurrecting her just so he could remove her head all over again and I could watch. What a complete bitch.

~~

“Miss Turner, so nice of you to join me.” King’s deep, sultry voice penetrated my ears and shot tiny tingles over my aching, tired body.

“Not now, King. I need to sleep.” I moaned and pushed his hand from my cheek.

“I think there will be time for sleep later. Perhaps an eternity of sleep if you do not wake,” he said.

“No. I want to stay in bed,” I whined.

“You do realize that you are in Vaughn’s basement, yes? And that he intends to kill you in twenty-four hours in a very violent, unsavory, public execution broadcast over closed-circuit television.”

Huh? I lifted my head that had been resting on the edge of the bed while the rest of me sat hunched over on the cold floor. King sat on the bed, his arms crossed, leaning back against the wall.

I blinked and stared into those pale gray eyes. “King?”

He lifted a brow. “Yes?”

“Am I dreaming?”

“No. Shall I pinch you?”

I nodded my head.

He reached down and pinched my arm.

“Ouch!” I yelped. “That really hurt.”

He smiled, and those little dents on both cheeks made an appearance. He was so beautiful, even now, after I knew so many horrible things about him.

I slowly rubbed my face and groaned.

“The water in the sink comes out hot if you’d like to wash your face.”

“Thanks.” I slowly rose to my feet, noticing my head felt light and clear for the first time in weeks. “That’s funny,” I said. “My headache is gone.”

“Well,” he flicked his hand, “you finally know all of my secrets and have accepted the truth.”

“All of them? Doubtful.” I hobbled over to the sink and splashed warm water on my face to rinse away the dried tears. I’m sure I looked like a complete disaster, but I wasn’t about to primp and try to look pretty for Vaughn.

I used the bottom of my navy blue sweater to dry my face while thinking about what I wanted to say. I had so many questions, but I suppose, what I really wanted to know was…

“No,” King said abruptly. “I would never have killed you to save my own skin.”

I turned and stared into those beautiful eyes. “You can hear what I’m thinking?”

He shrugged.

Well, that’s embarrassing. And it explained why he always knew my thoughts. “Then you know that I don’t believe you.”

He nodded. “I know. However, I will counter with pointing out how I could have killed you at any moment had that been my intention.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He tilted his head. “I have my reasons.”

“Such as?” Revenge? Because if you end your curse before you bring her back, you won’t get it, will you? You’ll disappear the moment your curse is lifted.

“Not revenge,” he replied to my thought.

“Then?”

He quirked a brow and flashed a grin. “All in good time, Miss Turner. All in good time.”

“Time,” I hissed. I think he just likes playing with me.

“I cannot deny I derive a great deal of pleasure from playing with you.”

Stop that. Get the hell out of my head.

“But it’s such a lovely place,” he argued. “As are your dreams.”

Oh Lord. “So, all those times it was you visiting me when I slept?”

He flashed one of those wolfish smiles that always put me on edge. “While I enjoyed each and every one of them immensely, those were all you. I simply got to watch the show.”

“Oh.” Now I’m really embarrassed.

“I believe arousing is the proper word,” he said, answering my thoughts.

“Please stop.” I held out my hand and winced. “I’d like to not have my final hours on this planet sharing them with the man who used, manipulated, and planned to kill me.”

“I thought we already covered that point. Murdering you was never part of my plan.”

“And I’m supposed to just,” I threw up my hands and leaned against the bare black wall opposite him, “trust you? Maybe you should let me inside your head.”

“I do not believe you’d enjoy it there.”

“Why not, King? Or should I call you Draco?”

“I have not gone by that name in a very, very long time.”

“Exactly how long?” I asked.

“Longer than you could possibly imagine, but that’s not important right now.”

I waited for him to tell me what was.

“I cannot allow this to happen,” he said.

“You mean, Vaughn’s sick little plan?”

“Yes. Because you are mine, Mia. And I mean it.”

He was starting with this again? Didn’t he see how moot this ownership thing was? “And, your point?”

“I will not allow him to end your life in such a cruel and violent way.”

Does that mean he has a plan?

He nodded yes. “That is correct.”

“Stop listening!” I barked.

“I cannot help hearing you, Mia.” His eyes flashed to the tattoo on my wrist.

Deep breath of patience…“So what’s your plan?”

He stood and walked over to me. “I want you to know,” he said with that deep, unwavering tone, “that I would never hurt you. Not to save myself.”

I didn’t like the sound of that last part. It insinuated there might be an exception to that rule.

“But I cannot allow Vaughn to perform the vile acts he plans for you. I cannot.” He rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip and studied my face for several long moments. A flicker of purple light danced in his eyes. “You deserve so much better than this, Mia.”

“Meaning?” My back still to the wall, I edged away, feeling uneasy.

He dropped his hands. “Do not be afraid, Mia.”

“A-a-afraid of what?”

“I am going to end your life before he has the chance.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

The moment King said those words, I bolted to the room where Vaughn had originally placed me. I slammed the door shut, but there was no lock on my side, so I resorted to using my back to keep it shut.

King wanted to murder me. Of course. I’m the last Seer. I die, and all of his problems are solved.

“No, Mia. You are wrong,” said King’s deep voice through the door.

“Get out of my head!”

“Mia, you need to trust me. You need to know that there is absolutely no other choice. And if you allow me to explain—”

“Fuck you, King.” I felt so hurt, but what should I have expected from him?

“As much as I would like that, I’m afraid that doing so in front of an audience is not my style.”

My eyes flickered to the 360-camera mounted to the ceiling in a small cage. Was Vaughn watching us now? Can he see and hear us?

“He can only see and hear you. As for me, I am visible only if I will it. However, he has stripped away all of my powers and created a barrier of some sort to keep me trapped inside the confines of this basement. Please, Mia, open the door.”

“Whatever you have to say, you can say through the door.”

I heard him sigh. “All right, but you’re being childish.”

Says the man who wants to kill me.

“Yes. Says the man. He is also going to tell you not to speak, but to listen. I can hear your thoughts. Vaughn cannot hear me speak. This provides us with one small advantage: privacy.”

So, you want me to talk to you like this?

“Yes. Very good.”

I can’t wait to hear what you have to say, evil bastard.

“Miss Turner—”

Oops. Sorry. Your Royal Evil Bastard?

“Mia. Enough.”

Or what? You’ll kill me?

King made a loud sigh. “I’m coming inside.”

“No!” I pressed my back firmly to the door. “Don’t come near me.”

“Mia.” King appeared right in front of me, his hands extended.

I yelped and then reached to open the door, realizing how futile that move might be; there was nowhere to run.

King slammed the door before I had a chance to crack it open. “Stop!” He grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed me to the door.

My eyes stared at his hands. “How do you do that?”

“Touch you?”

I nodded. “And the door.”

“I am very old and have learned how to manifest myself in brief intervals if I focus. As for you…” He grabbed my wrist and placed his palm over his mark. My skin tingled, and a pleasant wave of peacefulness washed over me. “The tattoo connects us. It allows you to see and feel me even during the dark hours.”

Dark hours?

“My sundial gives—or gave—me two hours each day to walk in the world of the living with little effort.”

How is that possible? Oh, wait. I held out my hand. Don’t tell me. You don’t ask how.

“As you’re aware, I’ve dedicated my existence to finding…” he hesitated, “particular people and things. The sundial was an acquisition from a Tungstic shaman. His gift was temporarily resurrecting the dead.”

Amazing. I wondered how he found the man or how it worked. Why only two hours?

“Even with the sundial, I expend an enormous amount of energy being sentient. I have to use it sparingly.”

“Wait. Was that why you always called me on the phone?”

He nodded. “Yes, I use the phone quite often, especially toward the end of the day when I am running out of steam. My,” he paused as if choosing his words carefully, “interests keep me very busy during business hours.”

I mulled over this shocking information briefly, specifically about a ghost using the phone. Fuck, and driving a car. And walking around talking to people. It was frigging creepier than hell, but explained so much, including his obsession with punctuality. It also explained why the time we were in Edinburgh, he had me do all the talking. The people around us couldn’t see him. How fucking weird.

“Yes. Quite.”

And the collar tattoo? What did that do?

King didn’t reply right away. “It was nothing. Nothing worth sharing.”

I wasn’t sure I believed that. Then why did Vaughn remove it? And your sundial?

“I am not sure. Probably because the man is paranoid and thinks I’ll use them to escape again.”

Are you sure you still can’t leave?

King shook his head no and then sat on the bed as if trying to solve a very complex puzzle in his mind. “When he first took me, I woke up down here and learned he’d bound me to this place somehow. However, I still had enough strength to leave for short periods of time.”

Is that when you came to see me?

“Yes, as well as a few other people. I’d hoped to find a counter to whatever he’s using to hold me here. However, I believe Vaughn found out I wasn’t completely contained. He pulled me back here by whatever force he’s bound me with. Then he…knocked me out. He’s got some sort of…I do not know what it is, but I lose consciousness.”

I thought about how they’d knocked me out, too. Maybe knocking people out was Vaughn’s special ability along with being a depraved, smarmy degenerate.

“When I woke this last time,” King pushed up his sleeve and rubbed his hand over the spot on his wrist where his sundial once was, “my tattoos were gone, and I no longer had the strength to leave.”

It sounded like Vaughn had been doing some serious preparation for this “special” day. And here we are.

“So we are.” He stared for several long moments, and I felt the air in the room thicken with tension and the temperature spike ten degrees. The look in King’s eyes transformed from calm and pensive to fierce and foreboding.

Wanting to move away but having nowhere to really go, I pressed my back firmly to the door. I didn’t know what was coming, exactly, but with King I never knew what to expect. Except that he had the ability to take complete control over me. Why did being near him always trigger a potent physical reaction? It was as if his smell did something to me. It flowed into my lungs and entered my bloodstream. It triggered my heart to beat faster and my skin to tingle. It instantly sparked a carnal tension between my legs and deep within my core that caused my knees to shake.

He slowly rose from the bed and placed both arms on either side of my face. “What I would like to know, Miss Turner,” he leaned in to whisper, “is why you disobeyed me, yet again.” He then stared at my lips with those hungry, beautiful eyes surrounded by thick silky lashes, waiting for an answer.

W-w-which time?

“When I told you to run.”

I shrugged. It’s hard to explain.

“Why don’t you try?” He brushed his warm knuckles across my cheek.

What could I say? I didn’t fully understand my feelings for him. All I knew was an inexplicable, irrational, and overwhelming sensation of desire continued to hammer its way through my body. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to feel him, to touch him, to taste him. Even now, after everything. Don’t be stupid. Fight it.

“It isn’t stupid, Mia. You are the reason I am changing.”

Changing? From what to what? I glared up at him. You just confessed you want to kill me. So please stop whatever game this is, whatever it is that you do to cause this—this thing between us. Because I’m not stupid, King. I know it isn’t real.

“You know nothing.” He scowled.

I read that story, King. And I’ve felt your pain, which is the only thing I need to know. You are dangerous and angry. You’d do anything to end your suffering and get revenge on Hagne.

He brushed my cheek, leaving a trail of prickles. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore how damned good it felt when he touched me.

“This is why I would never hurt you simply to save myself, Mia. You…” His voice trailed off.

“Yes?” I folded my arms across my chest and stared defiantly.

He stepped back and ran his hands through his thick black hair. It was amazing how even now, his hair looked perfect. Perk of being a ghost, I guess.

“Yes. Lucky me. Trapped to walk the earth, incapable of feeling any emotion apart from sorrow and pain, for eternity. But at least I have nice hair.” His expression was one of pure annoyance, but he wasn’t getting any pity from me. Not now.

“Don’t forget the private jet, hookers, and champagne.”

He shot me a scathing look. “Cruel is not a good look for you, Mia.” He then sat on the bed and released a slow breath.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be nicer to you. Thank you for honoring me, Draco, by being the one to end my life. It is so very kind and noble of you, my king.”

King moved with a blur and had me up against the wall. “Do not,” his voice trembled with rage, “mock me, Mia.”

I pushed at his hands, which were now gripping my shirt tightly. “Fuck you, King.”

Once again, I found myself staring into those seductive eyes and caught in his net. His effect on me was instant and profoundly carnal. My pulse raced, my body temperature spiked, and my most intimate parts fluttered wildly. Why does he do this to me? Why does he make me feel this way?

“Because,” he replied to my thoughts, “I feel the same way for you.” He let me go, and when he did, my wobbling knees forced me to prop myself up with my back to the wall. “You are the first person since being cursed who has allowed me to feel something other than pain. This is why I chose you.”

I looked away. You killed off all of the Seers. You were going to kill me.

He gently turned my head towards him. I could smell his sweet breath and feel the heat of his body. “Mia, I speak the truth when I say that my intention was never to kill you. Remember, I never tried to discover who you were. I never went looking for you. I never hunted you. You simply strolled into my office as if handed to me on a platter by fate. Yet, not once, not even for a second when I realized who you were—a Seer—did I think of ending your life.”

I wanted to believe him, I did. But trusting him or anyone had gotten me very little. Besides, I’d seen King’s true colors. I knew what lay behind those mesmerizing eyes. Desperation. Darkness. Pain. He’d do anything to make it all end. And take his revenge.

He tilted his head to one side. “Yes, you do know what lies inside me. So then ask yourself, Mia, what it means. If you understand the torment I live with, then imagine what it would take to simply walk away from salvation: killing you. Imagine how badly you would have to want something else. That is what I felt when I saw you. Because for that one second, I truly felt human again. I felt something good. I felt alive.”

He stepped in closer, and the heat from his body drew me in. As did his smell. As did his words and their meaning.

All I could do was to stare into those eyes and ask myself what I was going to do. Because I wanted to kiss him. I wanted it so badly that I’d give anything for it.

“Don’t fight this, Mia. Just…accept that you are mine—my most cherished possession. And there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you.” He lowered his head and slammed his lips to mine. His rough kiss was filled with the intensity of a man who’d been denied everything that was good in this world—light, love, compassion—but had found all of those missing things within me.

His hand slipped to the back of my head, and he deepened the kiss. He pressed his large frame into my body, lighting it up with sinful pulses and tingles. I knew it was wrong to feel this way. I knew it was wrong to want him. But I did. I couldn’t explain it, but I did.

I slid my hands around his waist and held him to me. I didn’t want to let go. Not ever. He felt as real as any man in my arms, and I couldn’t help but thinking how I’d never wanted anyone more than I wanted him.

His mouth continued to work over mine, his lips moving in that erotic, sensual rhythm that signaled what he wanted to do to my body. And when I felt his large cock pressing into me and heard the panting of his breath, I knew I would never be able to resist him.

If my last day on earth was today, then being with King—his muscled body, his beautifully masculine face, his smell and taste—wouldn’t be a bad way to go. Except that…this isn’t real.

I pushed him off me. “Stop. I’m not letting you do this. I’m not letting you lull me with some sexual fantasy when you’ll just kill me later. After you’ve got your revenge on Hagne.” That is why you want the Artifact, isn’t it? That’s what you wrote in the journal.

He pulled me back toward him and placed both hands on my cheeks. “Look into my eyes, Mia. Do you see anything? Do you feel anything that would make you believe I want to hurt you?”

No. But that doesn’t mean a thing, I thought.

“It means everything,” he said with a low growl. His hand moved to my shoulder and glided down my arm. He grabbed my hand and held it between us. “Because the ring will not bring you back if you do not wish to return.”

I glanced down at the shimmery rock on my finger. The ring? What does it do?

“The diamond is one of my earlier acquisitions. It was said to have the power to bring back the dead, which is why I hunted it. However, I discovered that it only works if worn at the time of death. Far too late for me, I’m afraid.”

So this is his plan? I thought to myself, not entirely clear on the rest of it.

He nodded. “Yes. It halts ageing, illness, and it will bring you back as long as your body isn’t destroyed. However, you must want to return to your life…” His voice trailed off as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t.

“And?” I asked aloud, trying to comprehend what he was dancing around.

He lifted my hand to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on my palm. “If you really believe that you will return only to be killed by me, if you die thinking that it is my wish to see you gone, then I fear you will not return.”

Now I understood. And he was correct; I still believed he wanted to kill me to end his curse. Maybe not now, not today, but someday soon when he’d fulfilled his lust for revenge.

I slipped around him and went over to sit on the bed. I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face. I couldn’t think straight. My heart wanted to believe that King was good, but his actions had shown me he was capable of incredible cruelty and deception. He himself admitted that the curse robbed him of any sense of emotion for others. If that were they case, then he couldn’t possibly feel any genuine concern for me.

“I understand why you might feel that way, Mia,” he said, replying to my thoughts. “However, you are not looking at the situation from the correct angle. Your options are to die by Vaughn’s hand, which will involve hours, perhaps days, of agony while he strips the skin from your body, piece by piece. Or taking a leap of faith with me. Those are your choices.”

Why not just tear off Vaughn’s head?

“I tried. But Vaughn knows what I am. He began to suspect the night I killed his two men.”

That night in London was the first time I’d met our current host. King suspected that Vaughn had the Artifact, so he set up a meeting, using me as the enticement. King told him I was some woman that Vaughn might enjoy for his collection, but really, I was there just to use my Seer gift and look for any traces of the Artifact. The meeting ended with King telling me to close my eyes. A second later two of Vaughn’s men were dead.

King sat next to me on the bed. “But after the night at the party, he finally put it all together: the Artifact, my appearing in the room…”

Don’t forget removing his arm. I’d never seen anything so horrific, and King had done that with the force one might use to shake hands.

King scratched his unshaven jaw, and I wondered what it felt like to be him. Did he really itch, or were his gestures just out of habit?

“I realize that it is difficult for you to trust someone like me. But I hide nothing from you, Mia. I would rather remain cursed and miserable forever than destroy you. And I will be damned if I stand by and watch Vaughn torture and rape you before he takes your life.”

I blew out a stress-filled breath. But if you kill me and I come back, then what?

“The Club has a body disposal service, and Vaughn will surely use it to get rid of yours.”

I remembered Mack mentioning the service. How could I forget something so creepy? It was one of the many benefits of belonging to the Club, along with free tax evasion, a fast-pass through Customs, and basic diplomatic immunity.

“I have paid them well, and they will know what to do,” King said. “Vaughn will never suspect.”

I blinked. What the hell, King? A ghastly uneasiness washed over me. He’d somehow seen all of this coming and had the foresight to make arrangements for my body?

Wow, 10 Club’s perks sure come in handy.

He placed his warm hand on my leg. “I began making arrangements the moment I decided to give you the ring. Just in case.”

One hell of a backup plan, King. I’m still not sure it solves our trust issue.

“It was not intended to win your trust. You asked a question. I answered honestly, Mia. And now you must choose what comes next. I cannot force you to trust me.”

Oh Lord, I knew King was right. Hell, now that I’d thought about it, even if he said the ring wasn’t going to bring me back, I would still choose a death by King’s hand over Vaughn’s. The only issue was that I wasn’t ready to die, and I certainly wasn’t ready to trust King, no matter how hard I might want to.

I shook my head and then gazed into his unsettling eyes. They were filled with emotion and determination, like he was willing me to accept the truth he wanted me to see. I want to believe you, but I can’t.

He slid his arm around me and pulled me into his side. “Again, I have erred. If I had not been so reluctant to believe you would see past my scars and pain, I would not have been so cold, so secretive. But I know you were brought to me for a reason. I truly believe that. You are a chance for me to redeem myself.”

Such sweet words. Too sweet, in fact. Actually, I’d be an idiot to believe anything he said. Because the opposite side of the coin told me he was cold, mean, and had zero issues with lying or manipulating people.

“What other choice to you have, Mia? Do you think Vaughn will let either of us go?”

I shook my head. But you’re basically saying the ring won’t work unless I trust you.

“Yes. You have to want to return. But will you? Will you, if you believe I wish to harm you, murder you?”

I guessed I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t want to die and come back just to die again.

“Then,” King said, “I have one day to change your mind and convince you of who I truly am.”

~~

To relax my body, King had me lie down on the narrow bed. He started by rubbing my feet and legs, then my arms and fingertips. As he massaged and glided those warm strong hands over my skin, I fought hard not to think about how his touch was so alive, so sensual, so completely enrapturing and so unlike what my mind thought the touch of a ghost should feel like. But the harder I tried not to focus on the physical effects of contact with King, the more my body reacted, lighting up in ways it never had for any man. Yes, without a doubt, King was no ordinary ghost. Or man. Even in captivity, he continued to exude a seductive, alluring, masculine power that drove me mad.

I think he sensed it, too, because when I began to squirm, telling my body not to do what it was doing, he made a quiet, deep groan. “This may be more difficult than I anticipated,” he said.

Nothing could be harder than trying to relax in Vaughn’s basement while having your feet rubbed by a ghost who was about to kill you to prevent you from being tortured then killed.

Of course, I was joking—sort of—but he grumbled with disapproval. “Try to focus on your breath.”

And then what are you going to do, again?

“It is something you’ve experienced before.”

Which is?

“I’m going to enter you.”

My right eye popped open. “Excuse me?”

He smiled with that charming, delicious, seductive smile that showed off the dimples in each cheek.

Uh-uh. That smile doesn’t work on me. I sat up, placing us nose to nose.

“I do not mean sex, if that is what you are thinking.”

Then what had he meant?

“I am going to…” He cleared his throat. “I am going to go inside you as I did that night in Edinburgh.”

What? No!

“There is no other way, Mia.”

Way for what? To hurt me? Because that night in Edinburgh, I’d tasted the full force of King’s pain. It was like having crushed glass pumped into my veins. Besides, didn’t you say Vaughn took away all of your powers?

“Some of my abilities cannot be removed. They come with the incorporeal-being package.” His beautiful dark brows furrowed, and he scratched his black stubble.

Why do you always do that?

“What?” he asked.

Scratch your beard when I challenge you or make you have to think something over.

“Do I?”

I shouldn’t have told you I noticed. It’s how I know something is up with you.

“Something is up. I cannot go inside you without sharing the pain of my curse. However, if I do not show you the truth, you will die with doubt in your heart. The ring will not function.”

What do you want me to see?

“My memories.”

Can’t you just tell me what you want me to know?

“Words can be faked. Memories cannot.”

Not everyone remembers things the way they really happened anyway.

“True. Everyone sees their own version of the truth; nevertheless, it is the only truth I know.”

I can’t, King. It was too…

“Horrifying.”

I nodded.

“It felt wonderful to me.”

I looked at him and wondered…Why?

“Because.” He straightened his spine. Suddenly, I saw a look in his eyes. It was a look I knew well. The angry look. The look he flashed when he was about to lose his temper. He grabbed my shoulders firmly and locked eyes with me. “I’m sorry, Mia, but there is no other way.”

~~

When King filled my entire body, it felt like having razor blades coursing through my limbs. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry out for him to stop, but I couldn’t move. Was this what it felt like to be possessed? Or did it hurt so badly because he was cursed?

And Lord, there I was again, feeling sorry for him somewhere in the back of my mind. How could anyone live with such agony? Just a few moments of this was enough to drive any person insane. I wanted to claw at my own heart just to make it stop. And when I distinctly felt King trying to calm me, I wanted to claw at his back as Hagne had done. I hated him a thousand times more than I had ever hated anyone.

How can you do this to me? I thought.

Because I must, he replied.

And as I mentally writhed in pain, I felt King’s energy penetrate the deepest corners of my soul. I tasted his pain. I saw nothing but purple light. When I felt him vibrate and rub against every cell of my body, I sensed the intense pleasure he experienced from being so intimate with me. It was better than sex for him. How I knew that was a bigger mystery than King himself, but I knew. He was in ecstasy.

I growled at him inside my mind. How dare he enjoy this? How dare he!

I felt a tingling sensation, as if King were petting the inside of my skin, trying to soothe me, trying to get me to simply accept the agony and move past it.

Not helping! Lord, I hoped he could hear me. Petting the inside of my skin was quite possibly the most unsettling sensation I’d ever experienced. Apart from being possessed by a wealthy, seductive, deceased king, of course.

The stroking ceased, and then I felt him moving around, digging inside my head. Was this really why he wanted to do this? He had done the same thing last time when we were in Edinburgh. He’d been looking for something inside me.

I couldn’t tell how long the treasure hunt lasted or if he stopped because my mental screaming got to be too much, but he finally did.

King? What are you doing?

Try to relax, he said. His voice was more of a faint echo, rather than King’s voice.

Then I felt a warm blanket of peace wrapping around my mind. Was I already dead?

No. You’re not dead. Just be still, he commanded.

Oh Lord. This was so horrifyingly weird.

King seemed to settle down and relax into me.

What’s happening? I asked.

This…

I stood in a small coliseum. The hot sun was high in the sky, beating down on my bare back, and the air was thick with the smell of sweat, ocean, and dirt. The roar of a crowd, sitting in tiered benches all around, deafened my ears. Men with swords waved them high in the air and screamed my name. “Draco. Draco. Draco!”

“Please lay down your weapon, brother,” I begged. I knew that someone had poisoned Callias’s mind. There was no other reason he would challenge me for the throne. Because Callias was my blood. My twin. My most loyal friend. But someone had gotten to him, though I knew not who. Perhaps the gods despise you.

But I had tried to be good to our people, to be fair and kind. I valiantly hid my true nature—vengeful, angry, and uncaring—because that was what my father showed me a good king did. Before he died, he taught me humility and discipline. He taught me how to be patient and gracious. But most importantly, he showed me how to leash my darker side and to exercise brutality and strength only when necessary.

The crowd chanted my name over and over again. I knew that anyone who remained silent did so because they cheered for Callias. Fools. They had no idea. If it were not for my loyalty to my people, I would gladly have let Callias take my head because killing him would be the moment my life turned into a living hell of torment. Still, I had put all that aside. For them. I could not allow Callias to rule. Whatever wickedness had possessed him would make him a cruel, vindictive, tyrant of a king. I place duty first. I place my people first.

“Callias, I plead with you one last time. Stop this foolishness.”

A raised sword was his response.

“So be it,” I whispered. “May the gods have mercy on my soul.”

With every swing of my sword, my heart grew blacker, more outraged. I released my darkness, my anger, my ferocity, which I reserved for my greatest enemies. Callias fell quickly, and it was then that I realized who had poisoned my brother’s soul. The woman to whom I had given my heart, whom I’d loved and adored since we were children. And in that moment, I realized I would never be able to cage my fury. The monster had been released from its cage.

I swung and watched my brother’s head fall to the dirt. When Hagne ran to Callias’s body and screamed in horror, the rage overtook me completely. This was her doing, and she dare cry?

I curse you to taste Callias’s blood for eternity, Hagne. I scooped up the dirt as I said these words and made her eat from the destruction she created. You are darkness’s companion for all time, Hagne. You shall never know happiness; only death shall live within you. Hagne had destroyed the two people I cherished most in this world in one day.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The pain fled my body, and I drew a sobering breath. Then another. And another. I winced as I tried to move and became myself again. Yes, I was me. Mia.

I rolled my head from side to side, searching. King? Are you there?

No reply.

Slowly, I managed to move my feet to the floor. My muscles were sore, and my head ached like a son of a bitch, only this time, I imagined it was because I had had someone digging around inside it.

“King?” I pushed my weight over my wobbling knees and managed to make it to the doorway. Where was he?

I stumbled to the next room and saw his limp body sprawled across the floor.

I rushed to King’s side, but he was in the same catatonic state as when I first saw him earlier. No breath. No movement. But warm and beautiful.

“Hello, Miss Turner. Are you enjoying your stay?”

I flinched and looked up at the slimy cretin, wearing a horrible green suit, occupying the doorway.

“Immensely. Thanks, Vaughn.”

He smiled with those slithery, thin lips that reminded me of a snake about to unhinge its jaw. “He will wake up in a few hours. I didn’t want us to be disturbed.”

Shit. King. Wake up. For God’s sake, wake up.

Not a twitch.

“What did you do to him?” I asked.

Vaughn flicked his wrist. “King isn’t the only one who dabbles in the arts.”

I assumed he meant dark arts, but whatever. I had to think quickly because whatever Vaughn planned to do, it wasn’t good. Maybe I should have let King kill me when he had the chance.

“How’s the dinner party?” I asked, trying to buy time.

“Very well. Right now the guests are enjoying their dessert: five women I acquired from the Philippines. Today is each of the women’s eighteenth birthdays.

I resisted letting the rage cloud my mind. He is sick, Mia. And he will pay.

“Wow. Well, don’t let me keep you from your fun.”

“My fun is right here.” He lifted his brows.

“Ummm… Well, I’d rather die than allow you to touch me. So if you want the big moment to happen now, so be it. I think your ticket holders will be pissed off.”

“You think I cannot subdue you? King is passed out on the floor, is he not?”

“King is gone,” I lied, hoping he’d leave or change his focus to something else. Anything. “He took off hours ago.”

Vaughn shook his head and slipped a creepy pair of yellow glasses from his pants. He gazed down at the spot where King lay and then snickered. “Nice try, Miss Turner.”

Okay. Vaughn has scary ghost glasses. I’m officially impressed by his preparedness.

Vaughn’s gaze focused on my breasts. “Ummm…I think I would like to start right there. They look juicy.” He licked his crusty pale lips.

Oh my God, King. Wake up. Wake up.

“I’ll tear off your balls if you touch me, Vaughn. And subduing me won’t be any fun since I know you don’t get off unless they scream.”

“Right you are.” He laughed, and his decrepit gaze moved down to my groin. “Perhaps I can persuade you to have a different kind of fun with me. I’m willing to barter. What would you like? Perhaps a good-bye video for your family?”

Oh no. Think, Mia. Think. Get him to leave. The only thing that popped in my head was to distract him with something more important. Maybe the Artifact?

“I have a question for you, Vaughn. Why in the world did you waste your time going after King when you had the Artifact?”

“Please, call me Milton. After all, you and I are going to become quite intimate. Might I say, the most intimate you’ve ever been with a man.”

On the outside, I held my expression of indifference. I didn’t want to give Vaughn the satisfaction he was looking for. On the inside, however, I felt my intestines twist into painful knots.

I smiled casually. “All right, Milton.” Psycho. “Why did you give up the Artifact? I hear you’re a collector of sorts.” I didn’t know if he’d given it up, but I wanted to find out.

“Who says I don’t have it?”

“Because, if you did, you wouldn’t be wasting your time with something as mundane as us.”

“Nice try, Miss Turner. But the Artifact is a worthless rock.”

“Who told you that?” I said as if he were the stupidest man on the planet.

“Your brother.”

Justin lied to Vaughn? Why? Because Justin knew it wasn’t worthless. He’d told me himself. In any case, I didn’t want Vaughn finding out that Justin had deceived him.

I made a quick shift in my strategy. “How would Justin know what he had? He’s an archaeologist. He knows bones and artifacts. Not magic.”

“And you do?”

I hesitated. What would be the repercussions of telling him I was a Seer? But I needed to sell the story. I needed Vaughn to go chase another shiny squirrel and leave me the hell alone.

I rolled the dice. “I am a Seer of Light.”

Vaughn’s eyes widened, and he laughed hysterically. “You. A Seer? Those are mystical creatures from the days of the Minoans.” His smile faded away into a cold stare. “They’re fucking unicorns. They don’t exist.”

Minoans. I didn’t know anything about that culture, but why did everyone always bring up unicorns? “If you don’t believe me, give me a test.”

He jostled his head from side to side, thinking. “Yes! An excellent idea. You can provide the after-dinner entertainment.”

“Sorry?” I said.

He scratched at a little scab or dry piece of skin stuck behind his ear. “My guests can play a game with you. Of course, you cannot go dressed like that. That would be preposterous. You may wear the outfit we procured for your special night tomorrow.”

Oh Lord. I’d meant a test down there in the basement. But now he wanted me to go and meet his sick friends? Maybe someone will help you. Or you’ll find a way to escape.

“Come, Miss Turner.” He waved at me to follow. “We will get you showered and changed.”

I glanced down at King’s immobile body.

“He’ll be fine. Not like the man is going to die.” Vaughn snorted. “Although, I would not care if he did.”

“Then why did you want him?” I couldn’t resist asking.

Vaughn shook his finger, and sheer insanity sparkled in his eyes. “A promise is a promise. And I promised King he would get to watch your special event tomorrow.”

Vaughn was absolutely insane.

“Come, come now, my little Seer.” He laughed.

I followed Vaughn down the corridor, where he unlocked the gate. I noticed he placed the key in his coat pocket. Maybe I’d be able to get a hold of it and escape.

He made his way up the flight of stairs as I followed along, taking mental note of everything around me.

“Now, if you have any notions of running, Miss Turner, I will advise you that we are on an island. So unless you’re a good swimmer, I would scratch that idea.”

“An island where?” We made it to a small landing that had another iron gate.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but question time is over.” He chuckled once again as he opened the gate.

He didn’t want to tell me where we were. And given how long we’d flown, we could be almost anywhere.

Vaughn opened the door at the top of the last flight of stairs. Bright light poured into the dark stairwell, and a wave of warm tropical air rushed at my face.

“Hurry now, Miss Turner. This way. We must get you bathed and dressed quickly. Wouldn’t want our guests to wait.”

My stomach felt like a meat grinder turning on itself. I hoped he wasn’t going to watch me shower or dress. As long as he doesn’t touch you, that’s all that matters. “Lead the way, Milton.”

We stepped into his large, modern kitchen that looked more like a bustling restaurant. Several chefs in tall white hats, tuxedo-clad servers rushing in and out with trays, and enough delicious-looking food to feed an army. Again, my stomach churned. I was starving, and the smell of warm, fresh bread only made it worse.

I looked at the people shuffling around the kitchen and wondered if they’d help me.

Vaughn clapped his hands, and everyone looked up from whatever they were doing. “Everyone. This is Miss Turner. If you see her wandering away on her own, be sure to shoot her. Or stab her. I will make it worth your while.”

With expressionless faces, the chefs and servers glanced at me, nodded, and went back to their work.

Vaughn grinned, rapidly blinking his beady, haze-filled, brown eyes. “You see, Miss Turner, they work for me. Nowhere to run.”

I wondered how on earth he got these people to obey him like that. My guess was that he either paid them extremely well and they had no morals or he had some sort of leverage over them—maybe holding their families hostage?

We made our way through the kitchen and up a set of blond hardwood stairs. Black-and-white photos of people in bondage hung on the white walls.

“Nice decorating,” I said.

“I took those myself. However, they are not my favorites. Would you like to see the rest?”

“No. Not really.” I knew his favorites would be something out of my worst nightmares.

“Excellent. Then I shall show you.” He laughed again and then coughed up a giant phlegm ball.

I shook my head. He was mad. Mad and sick and vile.

We made our way up the stairs and down another corridor of bedrooms. Though it was nighttime, I noted the huge skylights above and more pristine blond hardwood floors. It was funny how his home looked so bright, modern, and cheery. The exact opposite of the man.

At the end of the hall, Vaughn unlocked a door and pushed it open. “Come. I will show you my prized collection.”

Oh Lord. I didn’t want to see anything having to do with Vaughn’s hobby of skinning people alive.

“Now, Miss Turner.” He tapped the watch on his wrist.

I took a breath and marched forward.

The bedroom was large with a sprawling king-sized bed and huge glass windows with a door that led to a patio. The faint sound of crashing waves filtered into the room.

“Now, do you see? Aren’t they beautiful?” Vaughn pointed to a dozen more black-and-white photos hanging on the wall. They were portraits of the same woman, who looked to be in her twenties. She had an exotic look to her, like she might be a mixture of Asian, black, and something else. Her hair hung in tight ringlets past her shoulders and she smiled at the camera as if she loved whoever took the photos.

“Did you take these?” I asked.

Vaughn stared appreciatively at the pictures. “Yes. Isn’t she beautiful? My lovely Simone. My jewel.”

Simone? I’d never heard that name before. And wasn’t his wife Miranda? I was about to ask, but then remembered Justin mentioning he’d met Vaughn’s “significant other” at a 10 Club party.

Did Vaughn have a wife and a special someone?

“Is Simone the one you branded?” I asked.

“Jamie could never be Simone!” Vaughn’s sickly eyes sparked with indignation. “Never!”

Jamie? Who the hell was Jamie? And Vaughn had not one, but three women who were, or had been, in a willing relationship with him? His wife, Miranda, I completely understood; she was just as insane and warped as he was. But the woman in the picture, Simone, looked happy.

I held out my hands. “Okay. Sorry. She’s just so…” What could I say to calm him? “Simone is so beautiful. I thought maybe you made her your special someone.”

“Simone died before I had the chance,” he said quietly.

I wondered if he killed her. “How awful. I’m sorry,” I lied. But I wasn’t really. The woman was lucky to not end up being Vaughn’s love slave.

“She died of skin cancer ten years ago.” He shook his head. “She had such lovely skin. It still makes my dick hard.”

I wanted to gasp. Instead, I closed my eyes. Was that why he was so obsessed with removing women’s skin? Oh my dear Lord.

“That’s tragic,” I said, referring to his comment.

“Yes. One never recovers from such a loss. I keep her sister, Jamie, as my pet, but alas,” he sighed deeply, “it is not the same. She doesn’t enjoy my games.”

Jamie? “Jamie Henshaw?”

“Ah, you met her at the party, then?”

Oh my God. Oh my God. Jamie was the woman who worked at the U.S. Embassy—or at least had pretended to when she’d call to tell me that Justin had gone missing. She’d also been the one who told me not to come looking for him.

Crap. Justin knew her? Because he’d clearly told me that he’d met Vaughn’s significant other. He said he’d seen the “V” tattoo on her wrist while at some party and that she’d told him all about its meaning. That’s how I found out that King’s mark on my wrist meant more than merely being his property.

More lies, Justin. What the fuck?

My mind leaped over to another thought. Justin. I’d been so wrapped up in all this, I’d forgotten about my brother. I wanted to ask Vaughn if Justin had come to see him, but then realized that calling any attention to my brother might just drag him into this somehow.

No. Wherever Justin was—in Mexico helping those families like he’d told my mother, or trying to make a deal with this sicko—I would only make things worse by bringing him up.

“Yeah. I met Jamie at your party,” I lied, afraid to connect Jamie to Justin.

“Then you know she is not as beautiful as Simone. Or as faithful.” He scratched his scabby head and mumbled something about Jamie leaving. “No one will ever be as beautiful as my Simone. No one. They are all so undeserving of their healthy skins. Don’t you think?”

I cringed on the inside. The man was sick. Horribly, irrevocably sick.

I nodded slowly and tried to casually sweep away the sweat building on my brow.

“But I make sure that Simone still gets to play,” he said.

Oh no. I wondered if his obsession with flaying women wasn’t something more. Something more heinous than I could ever imagine. But I had to know as much as I could. Because his obsession was his weakness, and a person’s weakness could be exploited. 10 Club had taught me that.

“I, uhhh…know this is personal, but do you do something with the skins? Y’know, when you remove them?” I tried to project a nonjudgmental tone.

Vaughn dug his nails into his unshaven jaw and raked the skin aggressively like a dog with fleas. “How did you know?”

“I guessed.”

“Simone likes it when I dress her up.”

Okay. Okay. Don’t panic. It seemed that every time I dug a little deeper, the truth just got more perturbing. Unfortunately, this was my only chance.

I shook my head. “Such a shame you let the Artifact go.”

Vaughn’s expression turned to anger. “You won’t trick me, Miss Turner!” He grabbed me and threw me down. For a scraggly-looking, older man, he had the strength of ten men. He must’ve acquired the same “ability” as Talia. I really, really needed to ask King about how to get some of whatever that was.

Keep calm, Mia. Don’t provoke him. “You haven’t even asked me what the Artifact can do,” I croaked as he pinned me by the neck onto the floor.

“Maybe I’ll skin you tonight, Miss Turner.”

“It can raise the dead!” I blurted out.

Vaughn’s grip loosened. I could tell he wanted to believe me. Simone was his weakness, the one thing in this world he wanted most.

“I’m not lying. Why do you think King wanted it so badly?”

He blinked.

“It’s real,” I said. “I saw its power with my own eyes.”

Vaughn jumped off of me and pointed to a doorway. “Go take a shower. Your dress and shoes are in the closet. You have five minutes.”

He marched out and locked the door behind him.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” King? Can you hear me? King?

There was no reply, not that I really expected one.

My eyes floated to the balcony, and I rushed outside to see if there was an escape route. Dammit. The drop was about three stories to the rocky shore below. Nowhere to go. Of course. Vaughn is crazy, not stupid. He wouldn’t leave me in a room I could escape from.

So what next? I had to convince him that he needed the Artifact more than he needed me or King or anything else. That would buy us time, perhaps lots of it. If he knew where it was, he’d need King to tell him how to use it. That could be a bargaining chip for our freedom. If Vaughn didn’t have it, he’d hopefully drop everything to go find it. More time for King and me.

I just had to convince Vaughn that I wasn’t lying, that I was the real deal and so was this rock.

I went over to the closet and opened it. Inside were a sleeveless black leather dress and a pair of red patent leather shoes in my size. Manolos.

It severely disturbed me that he knew what sort of shoes I liked and my size.

I grabbed them and rushed into the bathroom. I quickly stripped off my clothes and took the quickest shower of my life. I didn’t want to be nude when Vaughn came back, so I dressed just as fast. The leather dress was tight and way too short. With the red heels, I looked like I was either a high-class hooker or ready for an S&M soiree.

I did my best to dry my hair with the towel, then combed my blonde locks back with my fingers. When Vaughn appeared in the doorway, I put on a confident smile, the sort a Club member might carry. I wanted him to see that I wasn’t one of his cowering victims, but an asset to his depraved endeavors. After all, if he liked to collect people, I was a damned unicorn. Possibly the last one in existence.

Thanks to King.

Oh Lord. Don’t think about that, Mia.

“Miss Turner. Don’t you look like a vision?” Vaughn held out his arm for me to take.

“Nice of you to get my favorite shoes.” I took his arm and tried not to react to the sea of red that washed over my vision. It was like looking through red-tinted glasses.

“I like my special ladies to look their best for their special events.”

Psycho. “How thoughtful. So who are your guests tonight?”

“Ah. They are some of my best clients. Members of the Sinaloa drug cartel. They like to come to Isla de Vaughn for a little relaxation and fun.”

Vaughn escorted me down a wide staircase that led to the foyer, then to the formal living room. Like I’d seen during the 10 Club party at his home in Bel Air, this one had a similar look—mostly bright whites and modern furniture.

Around the long, rectangular dining table sat five men with dark hair. They didn’t look like the typical drug lords you’d see in movies. These men wore nice suits and ties. They were handsome, poised, and elegant, except for the teenaged Asian girls sitting on their laps. The girls looked to be having the time of their lives, sipping martinis and speaking to each other in Pilipino.

“Vaughn, they’re babies,” I whispered. I didn’t know why I bothered to say anything. It wasn’t like he’d care or let them go.

“Yes. They are.” He smiled proudly and sighed. “Gentlemen! I have a special treat for you this evening.” All heads turned toward me. “May I introduce Mia Turner. She is going to play a little game with us.”

Oh crap. Stay calm.

The men’s eyes washed over my entire body and stuck on me. I guess they liked the hooker look.

“Miss Turner says she is a living mood ring. She can see your souls. She can sense how you’re feeling.”

The men exchanged glances.

“Yes, I am completely serious,” Vaughn said. “In fact, she swears by her gift. So what do you think if we make a little wager, to make it interesting, huh?”

Why did everything always have to get worse instead of better?

“Mia will look at you and tell you what she sees. At the end, I will ask each of you if she guessed correctly. If she does, you get to keep your lovely date, free of charge. If Mia guesses incorrectly, your date will be escorted upstairs.” He winked. “To be mine for the evening.”

Oh Lord. “Mine.” That meant that Vaughn would kill the unlucky girl.

The men smiled hesitantly and exchanged nervous glances. Even they seemed to fear Vaughn’s insanity.

Vaughn looked at me. “What do you think, Miss Turner? The wager sets the odds in your favor since these men are all looking forward to their treats tonight.”

“You’re saying they’ll die if I don’t guess correctly?” I asked.

Obviously, the women didn’t speak English because their smiles didn’t even flicker.

Vaughn nodded. “That is correct. So, are you still certain you are a Seer?”

“Yes. But I might see something your guests won’t like. How do I know if they’ll tell the truth?” I asked.

“Do not!” Vaughn slapped me across the cheek, and it stung like hell. “Insult my guests, Miss Turner!”

I almost lost it right then and there, but I hung on by the skin of my teeth. If I wanted Vaughn to see me as something other than his next victim, he needed to see I was like him.

I pasted on a sick little smile and rubbed my cheek appreciatively. “Mmmm…Thank you. Wager accepted.”

Trying to hide my revulsion and terror, I strutted over to the first man closest to me. He wore a dark gray suit and looked to be the youngest. His thick, wavy, brown hair was combed back, and I noticed a giant gold pinkie ring.

I smiled appreciatively at him, hoping to win points. “Just relax, sweetie. This won’t hurt.” The girl on his lap, who wore a tight, red Spandex dress, eyed me with curiosity. She had no clue her life was in danger.

It didn’t take long for the colors to begin sprouting. The man I stared at was yellow. I couldn’t remember all of the colors. Hell, I’d only discovered my gift a month and a half ago. I knew black, red, purple, green, and blue. Yellow and orange? Were they hate or love? Were they jealousy? I had no clue. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I pointed to the man’s hand. “May I?” He held it out for me. His palms were black. Solid black. “You killed someone today.”

The men around the table burst out in laughter and began clapping. My victim pulled his hand away and whispered, “Santa Maria.”

What was wrong with these people? He kills someone and then prays to the Virgin Mary? Nice.

“Very good, Miss Turner,” said Vaughn. “Please proceed to the next guest.”

Okay. One down. Four to go. I felt the sweat trickle down the small of my back. I wasn’t wearing any undergarments, and the leather trapped in all of my body heat. I felt like a baked potato wrapped in foil.

I moved down the table to the next man. The girl in his lap scurried off as he turned his chair. He offered his hand immediately. His body color was red, but his hands were green. Pain and life? I didn’t know what to make of it, so I took the more general route. “You are in a lot of distress, but you like to do things that create. You see it as making new life.”

Again, the men applauded wildly. “He likes to garden!” They laughed, and my second victim shot them an ugly look. I don’t think he would want to admit he had a creative “life-giving” side to address whatever pain he hid inside.

Oh God. King, if you can hear me, I’m upstairs. I need your help! I’d made it through two, but there were still three, and the guy on the end looked nasty.

The next two were easy, blue and blue. Sorrow. That meant something bad had happened to them that they’d yet to overcome. I politely phrased it as “their jobs were filled with some nasty shit, but they were going to be fine because they were tough dudes.”

Vaughn, who stood in the corner of the room, watching with wide eyes, clapped enthusiastically each time I guessed.

When I got to the last man at the other side of the table from where I’d begun, I immediately knew he’d be trouble. He wore a dark blue suit and had a wide belly and receding hairline. The blackness—death—appeared in dark splotches all over his torso. The rest of him was red. Was the man sick? Perhaps dying? Oh, Lord. What was I going to say?

“Ummm…you’ve had some serious health issues recently. They’ve been worrying you, but it’s going to be okay.” Of course, I had no idea if he’d be okay. All I knew was that I needed him to give me a thumbs-up so that the young woman on his lap wouldn’t die tonight.

He looked at me and smiled.

I let out a mental phew.

Vaughn applauded once again and even made a little jump. “Now, you must do me, Miss Turner.”

I smiled my best fake smile. “Maybe later, Vaughn.” I winked and tried not to wretch. “I’m sure your guests are dying to get to their fun for the evening?”

He laughed. “Right you are, Miss Turner. Right you are.” He looked around the table. “So, let us see a show of hands. Who here agreed with Miss Turner’s interpretation?” All of the men raised their hands except for mister green palms.

“Oh no,” said Vaughn with a superficial pout. “It looks like we have one unsatisfied customer.”

Shit. “Let me try again. Sometimes the reads are a little off.”

Vaughn shook his finger. “Uh-uh-uh. No do-overs.” He bowed his head. “Gentlemen. I will return shortly.”

Vaughn took me by the arm and whisked me back toward the kitchen.

“Where are we going?”

“We are done with our fun. You are going back to your cell.”

“What about the girl?” I asked.

“She is no concern of yours.”

“But he was lying. He lied to you. You can’t punish her for that.”

“Oh. I can do anything I like. Even to you. And I plan to.”

“But don’t you believe me about the Artifact? King is the only one who knows how to use it. He won’t help you if you hurt me.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that.” He opened the door to the basement and gestured for me to go inside the stairwell. To the naked eye, it was simply dark, but to my eyes, the blackness looked like the mouth of a demon opening wide to swallow me whole, the walls dripping with red blood. I didn’t want to go back down there.

“But you do have the Artifact, right?” I said, still hopeful that he’d say no and might see value in keeping me alive. “I don’t know what it looks like, but I can recognize its light pattern.”

His thin lips turned down in the corners. “I don’t have it, but I know exactly where it is.”

I’m such a useless fuckup. Who was I to believe I could go up against people like Vaughn and win? My mind wasn’t warped enough to see the angles that create leverage in this sick game. I was far too trusting and eager to see the good in people—not that I saw any in Vaughn. But I’d walked a mile in King’s shoes, tripped and fell. I couldn’t be King. I couldn’t even be his assistant. I was so damned useless. I was so damned…

Dead.

Vaughn escorted me down to the bowels of his home, unlocked the last gate, and pushed me inside the caged corridor leading to the three rooms. “Don’t ruin your outfit, Miss Turner. We want you looking pretty for the event tomorrow night.” Vaughn disappeared, whistling some creepy tune.

Gripped by sorrow for that poor girl upstairs and for ourselves, I pressed the heels of my palms over my eyes. My vision lit up with color.

I gasped and held out my hand. It swirled with vivid purple. My gaze crawled up my arm and shoulder. Crap. My entire body swirled with the damned color. Was this who I’d become? Pain and sorrow mixed inseparably together? Just like King.

King!

I rushed into the room and found him still out cold on the floor. “Wake up!” I gave him a hard shake, but it was useless.

I sank on the bed and gnawed on my thumbnail. I hoped he’d wake up soon, because it was looking more and more like we’d have to go through with his plans, but sooner rather than later. Vaughn wasn’t going to wait until tomorrow night to hurt me. He’d be back well before then. I was certain of it.

Yes, King would have to kill me now. But the only problem was that I still didn’t trust him.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

After a few hours, King began to groan a little and rolled onto his back on the floor. I was partially relieved. Only partially. I knew what needed to be done now, and it wouldn’t be much fun for me.

Hi. Nice of you to join me. You missed all the fun, I said to him.

“Ummm…I bet.” King slowly sat up on the cement floor. “That fucking Vaughn. I’m going to find out how he knocks me out, learn how to counter it, and then beat the crap out of him.” He looked over at me in my short leather dress and red heels. His initial pleasure quickly soured. “What the hell are you wearing, Miss Turner?”

I just loved how he used my last name when he wanted to make a point or remind me of his position above me—his perceived position above me.

I shrugged. “Like I said. Fun. So much fun. Did you know he has drug lords upstairs with eighteen-year-old girls? He’s going to kill one just for kicks.”

“He’ll probably kill them all,” he said casually and ran his hands through his hair.

“Let me guess. You don’t care. What is wrong with all of you Club people? Do they ask you to check your souls at the door when you sign up?”

King shook his head and stared ahead at the wall. “The women shouldn’t have made a deal with the devil.”

“They’re girls, King. Probably from poor families.” I huffed. “You know what? You want me to trust you, don’t say crap like that. Say something compassionate, even if you have to fake it.”

“Stop speaking aloud. Vaughn can hear you. And I cannot change who I am, Miss Turner. Any more than you can.”

Find a way, King. Because that bullshit you pulled earlier, jumping into my body, did nothing but undermine what little trust we were building. Yes, I knew why he’d done it, but he’d forced his way inside my body. Forced. And it made me feel…well, pissed off, frankly.

“We don’t have time for your fretting, Miss Turner. The clock is ticking, and I had to show you the truth.”

I stood and looked down at him. That’s fucking right. The clock is ticking. And Vaughn can knock you out anytime he likes. Do you know what he wanted to do to me? He wanted a little pregame warm-up, King. I had to tell him that I’m a Seer. I had to tell him about the Artifact just to distract him from doing God only knows what to me. Then he made me play lookie-see with the narcos while using five eighteen-year-old girls as the betting chips if I guessed wrong about whatever crap was going on with their lives. All the while, I kept calling for you, knowing that even if you answered, there was nothing you could do because you’re trapped down here. So, I’m very sorry that my ‘fretting’ is annoying you, but don’t you think I deserve just a little bit of your patience here given that you’re asking me to let you end my life?

King looked up at my face with a wicked scowl; then his eyes moved south. “Why aren’t you wearing underwear?”

Crap. He could see everything from that angle on the floor. I stepped back and pinched the edge of my nose. “Well, I hope you enjoyed the show because that’s all you’re getting from me.”

King popped up from the floor faster than I could process with my brain. I jumped back and yelped.

“Don’t do that, King! You scared the crap out of me.”

King gripped my wrist. “You belong to me, Mia. So you will answer when I ask a question.”

I yanked my wrist away, and he seemed shocked as hell. I guess I was, too. His effort to subdue me had failed. Maybe I wasn’t as weak as I thought.

King stared down with those piercing gray eyes. “Answer my question. Why do you have nothing underneath your dress? Did Vaughn touch you?”

No. But he made it clear he will. And I don’t think he’ll wait until the big event.

He rubbed his strong jaw, and it relaxed a bit. “Why did you tell him you were a Seer?”

I thought it would make me more valuable to him, and he’d forget about killing me.

“That is what a rational person might do. He is not rational. He is mad. Which is why I’ll never allow him to have you.” King’s expression had a peculiar look I couldn’t interpret. His aura, or energy, or whatever it was called, flashed green for a moment.

Strange.

“What is strange?” he asked.

Nothing, it’s not important. Because, at any moment, Vaughn might return for me.

“Yes,” King said, hearing my concerns, “this is exactly why you need to tell me what I must do to gain your trust.”

I shook my head and stared at my feet. “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do.”

“Mia, look at me,” he commanded.

I didn’t want to. I knew I’d just end up getting lost in those hypnotic eyes.

“Mia,” he said in that deep, velvety voice, “look at me. Look at me like you did that day in the hospital.”

That was the day I’d got a glimpse of the real him. And it was the moment I began to question if he was truly evil. It was also the point at which my feelings for him became unquestionably complicated.

“Please,” he added.

Unable to resist, I looked up at him and fidgeted in my dress. King had that expression—fierce determination in his light eyes, black brows slightly tugged together, and lips pursed—that loosened my joints, clouded my mind, and made me want to believe that his insides were as beautiful as the outside. But they weren’t. Yet, it didn’t stop me from feeling what I felt or wanting to touch him.

I glanced down at his hand, hanging to his side. His finger twitched, and I wondered if he wanted to touch me, too.

“Yes, I do,” he said, maintaining his hypnotic stare. “More than you could possibly understand.” He closed the gap between us quickly. The warmth of his body pressing to mine ignited a wave of prickles over my skin. I tried to ignore them, but then he slid his hand to the back of my head. However, he didn’t move to kiss me. He simply stared. “There is a time and place for everything, Miss Turner,” he whispered in that dark, sultry voice. “Rest assured, when I take you for the first time, it won’t be in a dungeon.” He slowly bent his head. “It will be where I can take my time with you.” He nuzzled his lips and deliciously bristly stubble against my cheek. “Now, do as I ask, and tell me what doubts you have about me.”

Everything. I doubt everything. Even now as I wanted him in a way that defied all sound reasoning.

Mia, I thought to myself, it’s either King or Vaughn.

“That is correct,” he said. “Listen to yourself.”

Then tell me what this is. What is this between us?

His lips stopped their gliding and nuzzling. “I cannot explain it.”

Can’t or won’t?

“Can’t.” But the way he’d said it instantly made me doubt even that.

See. Even now, I feel like you’re trying to manipulate me. That you hold all the cards and know exactly what will happen, but I’m in the dark. I feel like you’re hiding so many things that what I’m looking at is the tip of the iceberg, and if I were to view the entire frozen picture, I’d see miles of secrets hiding beneath the surface. I feel…I feel…like I’m being…worked! I spat. That’s what’s keeping me from trusting you!

He pulled back and once again stared into my eyes. This time, it was outrage that I saw. “Is that what you think this is? That this is an enormous, contrived farce? And that I would purposefully put myself in the care of Vaughn, a man who represents everything I loathe in this world. Or is it, perhaps, that you believe I would put you in jeopardy to serve some scheme of mine?”

I didn’t reply because I wasn’t sure; a thought he immediately picked up on.

“I am not God, Miss Turner. I am nothing more than half a man, the side one cannot see with the naked eye, but a man nonetheless. I do not control everything—the heavens, you, or the Club. I simply cast my coin into the water and hope the ripples push the tide my way. That is all any man can ever aspire to. Even the most powerful. So if you would like to go on believing in conspiracies, be my guest. But then open those fucking beautiful blue eyes of yours and use them for seeing the truth. I hide nothing. I offer you access to every memory I have retained.”

Fine. I want to know what happened to the other Seers.

He blew out a breath and ran both hands through his hair.

You said anything.

“Yes, I did. It’s simply painful for me to answer.” Another breath.

Tell me. I need to know.

He hesitated for several long moments. “I…cursed them. They almost died off, but then I learned about the Artifact, and by coincidence, I learned that the Seers had a certain gift for drawing it to them. They are bound to it, just as I am bound to them. I removed the curse, but it was too late. Most were already gone.”

“How do you know that?” I wondered if he had some way of finding them or something.

He drew a deep breath. “I never knew who or where the Seers were. I can only say that I felt their presence on this earth. Every time one died, I felt the curse’s grip weaken.”

“Oh.” I thought for a moment about why he’d stopped killing them. It was to serve his own needs, not out of the goodness of his heart.

“Understand, Mia, that I thought of only one goal when I cursed them: destroying any traces of Hagne. But when I met Cassandra, she was the first person who saw the true me. She wanted to help despite the ugliness she saw standing before her.”

Cassandra?

“She was the Seer I told you of.”

What about Arno and Mack? Don’t they help you?

“Arno and Mack were not born yet, though Arno’s family has sworn an oath to me and has served me for many generations.”

Arno is your servant?

“His entire family, the Spiros of Crete, have served each king hundreds of years before I was even born. It is their tradition, and they serve willingly. To them it is an honor.”

How old are you?

“That is not a question regarding your trust of me.”

I let out a little hiss. Why won’t you tell me?

“Next question?” he said sternly.

How did Cassandra die?

“She got involved with someone from the Club. He tricked her into betraying me.”

Did you kill her?

He looked at me sharply. “No. She was a friend. I watched over her.”

His comment about Cassandra made me think of how I sometimes felt King’s eyes on me or smelled his delicious scent in the air, but there was no one there. Did you watch over me, too?

His intensity sharpened as he stared. “Once I met you, yes. All the time. But watching you is something more.”

My heart began to race a bit, knowing that he’d been spying on me. I wasn’t sure if it was entirely anger-driven.

“I am fascinated by everything you do,” he said. “I love the way you fidget in your chair when you wait for me in my office. I love the way you wobble in those sexy red heels as you walk. I loved watching you eat and drink, the way you enjoy your food and roll your eyes.”

Oh no. You watched me devour that loaf of bread in the hotel in Palenque, didn’t you? It had been that infamous night he tattooed me. I’d taken a long shower after the, then, worst day of my life, and emerged from the bathroom to find champagne, bread, and cheese.

“Yes. I do believe you said you loved me,” he gloated.

I meant it figuratively.

“Yes, I know. But a man can dream, can’t he?” He stepped in a bit closer, and my body began to tingle. “Because if I could dream of one thing for the rest of my days, it would be of you, the way you study me and wonder who or what I really am.”

Why?

“Because you never stop hoping. I can see it in your eyes, Mia. You never cease praying that I will turn out to be something other than I am. A monster.”

Because you’re not a monster. You’re a person who was dealt a bad hand.

He stepped a little bit closer, and I felt the energy from his deliciously masculine body trigger a reaction in all the right places, which was so, so wrong.

He cupped the back of my head. “See. That was it, right there. That look in your eyes.”

His possessive gaze overpowered me. I wanted to look away from those stunning, possessive gray eyes, but I couldn’t. Feeling like I was everything in his world for those few short moments was like a drug.

He bent his head to my ear. “Be forewarned, Miss Turner, once we are free and you look at me like that, I am going to fuck you thoroughly. I’ll take you again and again, until you concede.”

Con-con-cede what?

“That you are mine. Not because of the mark, but because your body and soul wish it.”

I wasn’t sure that’s what I wished. I mean—yes, my body wanted him in so many wrong ways, but my brain was still telling me not to trust him. He was a man who would do anything to get what he wanted. He was also damaged. Perhaps beyond repair. I wasn’t sure.

What if I don’t want that, King? What if I do not want to be yours?

He smiled and then rubbed his lips lightly over my cheek again as if he couldn’t get enough. “If you give me what I want, then I will give you what you want.”

I turned my head and met his eyes. Did you just say what I think?

He kissed me lightly on the lips. “Yes. One night with me, and then you may choose.”

He was obviously one hundred percent confident that I wouldn’t leave him. Because King never made a deal he wasn’t prepared to keep.

Deal. Besides, I might not get out of this. But it’s nice to have something to look forward to if I do.

King chuckled softly in my ear. “Oh, I look forward to it, too.”

I rolled my eyes. I meant my freedom.

“You won’t leave me, Miss Turner. You like being mine just as much as I enjoy owning you.”

I took a step back and stared at him, wondering how much more complex we could possibly make things between us. So now what? Vaughn could be back at any moment.

King stood up straight. “Do you want to return? Do you trust me?”

I sighed. I want to, but that’s not how trust works.

“Then tell me what more you need.” He again placed his hand on the back of my neck so I couldn’t avoid his powerful gaze.

I don’t know. More time?

I felt King’s fingers twitch. “Do you know why I chose you, Mia?”

I shook my head no.

“Because you are brave. Brave enough to stand up against me. Brave enough to hope for a man like me. Brave enough to go up against people who could crush you like a fly, all for someone you care about. You are far braver than I. So now, you need to be brave once again and take a leap of faith.”

I wanted to. Hell, my life was on the line. But could I trust him enough for this to work?

What will happen to me when I’m—I swallowed—dead?

“I do not know.”

How long will it take for me to come back?

“A day or two. But that is a guess.”

And if it works? What will happen when I wake up?

“You will call Mack. You will tell him what has happened, and he will come get you.”

And then what? What about you?

“I will be fine. There is nothing that Vaughn can do to me that hasn’t already been done.”

I’m not leaving you here to rot.

King’s face turned into an angry scowl. “You are not, and I repeat, not to do anything foolish, Mia. Mack will take you somewhere safe. You are to stay there.”

Indefinitely?

“I hope not, but if necessary.”

But my parents and Justin—

“Vaughn will believe you are dead. If he finds out you are alive, he will come after you. He will kill you on the spot. You are to stay out of sight.”

I saw his point. Of course I did. But leaving King or anyone to hang out to dry wasn’t my style. I’d rather die than hide while that psycho Vaughn hurt them.

I know I’m not like you and Vaughn. I don’t know how to think like a cruel person, and I can’t even begin to understand the ins and outs of the Club, but I promise, I’ll be careful. My mistake last time was in believing I could play on their terms and go head to head. I thought I could be King for a day. But that was a completely naïve and ridiculous assumption. No one could be King except King.

King grabbed my wrist. “No. Mia. You will stay away. I forbid you to get involved again.”

But—

King gave me a little shake. “Let the chips fall, Mia. Let fate decide who lives and who dies.”

I’m changing subjects now.

“No!” he yelled. “You are to call Mack and do as you are told, Miss Turner.”

Ha! See. Now you’re going to ask me to trust you? And you know what? I do! I trust you to be a complete arrogant ass. I trust that you will always default to seeing me as your property.

“Because you are,” he growled.

I don’t know what time you’re from, King, but in this day and age, women aren’t pets. Your days of barbarianism are over! I own me. I decide what to do with my life.

“I don’t give a fuck about your modern-day ideals,” he yelled. “You will do as you are told, or I will pun—”

“Don’t you dare!” I stuck my finger in his face. “Don’t you dare say it, or so help me, I will kick that giant ghosty dick of yours so hard that—”

King unexpectedly smiled at me and then began to laugh. Not like a little chuckle or snicker, but a double over, can’t get a breath sort of laugh.

“What?” I said, but then replayed my words. I’d told him that I would kick his giant ghosty dick.

“Okay. Okay.” Then I started to laugh, too. “I’m not very good at insults, am I?” I snorted.

“No. In fact, you flatter me and my giant dick.” He stood up straight, still chuckling, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“Did I make you cry? This is embarrass—” My thought was cut short by something I saw: King’s light flickered to green again, but this time it stayed that way.

I gasped. Oh my God.

“What?” He continued shaking his head, chuckling the words “ghosty dick.”

You just turned green. Bright green.

His smile melted away. “Yes, I believe I feel it.”

We stared at each other for a quiet moment. I don’t know what he was thinking about, or if he was simply listening in on my thoughts, but I was struck with awe. I saw a glimmer of that man—whole, happy, full of life—he once was before his existence turned into a living hell. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything more beautiful than him in that moment.

The rattle of the gate outside the room broke our attention. King’s color instantly shifted back to purple, and his expression returned, cold and callous. He rushed to the door, slammed it shut, and leaned in with both hands. “Fucking hell.”

We were out of time.

I stood there staring at his broad back; his head hung low between his arms. It was now or never.

“I just saw what I needed, King. So do it.” Knowing that a part of the man he once was still lived validated my hope that I wasn’t crazy for caring about him. And King had been wrong. It wasn’t the dark part of me that wanted him; it was the good part of me. It saw that he wasn’t completely lost to his curse.

“Do it. Quickly. Before he puts you to sleep.” I placed my hands on his back, but he didn’t move. “King, it’s okay, I promise. I want to come back.” The ring will work.

“Where are my little pets?” Vaughn called out for us. “I have a treat for you.”

King let out a breath and turned toward me, pressing his back against the door. He looked at me with those beautiful gray eyes, and I saw genuine fear in them.

I smiled and placed my hand on his cheek. “Now is not the time for doubts.” I stood up on my tippy toes and reached my lips up to his mouth.

King tensed at first, but then, like a switch had been thrown, he kissed me back, cupping my face between his hands. His lips moved over mine, needy and desperate. Our tongues slid against the other’s in frantic, delicious swirls. He pulled away, and I saw nothing but purple inside his pupils. Pain and sorrow.

“I will see you on the other side, Mia.”

I blinked and felt the horrific sensation of King slipping inside my body. The agony, the hell living inside him, was now inside me. I felt the unsettling sensation of him wrapping around my heart.

I gasped. Buried somewhere beyond the pain was the sensation of King embracing me gently from within, stroking my heart and telling me not to be afraid.

The door flew open, and Vaughn’s sickening smile greeted me. His dress shirt was covered with blood, and his pants were unbuttoned. “There you are, Miss Turner. Ready for a little fun?”

I opened my mouth and screamed as a jabbing pain hit my chest. My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the floor. I felt my body trying desperately to fight back against what was happening to it, but it was useless.

“No!” Vaughn screamed like a child who’d been robbed of his favorite toy. “You can’t do this! You owe me screaming. You owe me a special night!”

I smiled and closed my eyes, allowing the life to drain from my body.

“You fucking bitch! I’ll find your little brother, Miss Turner. He will take your place!”

The room turned dark.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Honestly, I was hoping for more—an out-of-body experience, the ability to travel anywhere I liked, a glimpse of the infamous light. Didn’t happen. When I opened my eyes again, I was surrounded by darkness, my body wet, sticky, and encased in some sort of plastic. The only experience I got was two lungs screaming for air.

I pushed my hands through a small opening near my face and spread it wider, gasping for clean air. There was none available.

I reached to find cool, smooth steel. Same as what was underneath. Where am I?

My fingertips continued to explore the sides and right angles of the tightly confined space.

Fuck. I’m in a meat locker! In a goddamned body bag! These were King’s instructions to the body disposal service?

I screamed in horror and pounded my fists against the metal walls. “Let me out! Help!” I searched with my hands for a latch or hinge or anything near my head. Nothing. Maybe it was down by my feet, but there was no way to turn my body. “Let me out!” I shimmied down and kicked hard.

Then it struck me. Where was I? Who would be there to open the door? Was I still in Vaughn’s house? Had he even called the disposal service? My heart pounded like a drum of doom inside my chest as I tried to calm myself.

The door swung open at my feet. A man jumped back, cursing in a language I didn’t recognize but sounding just as terrified as me. That was a great sign because it couldn’t be Vaughn or anyone in his crew. They wouldn’t be freaked out.

“He-hello? Can you please let me out?”

More foreign words that sounded like cursing.

I pushed against the surface near my head and propelled the platform out. I sat up and savored the air filling my lungs.

The man in blue scrubs, who looked to be in his thirties, held a shiny scalpel in his shaking hand.

“It’s okay. Just…calm down.” Fuck, I’m the one who just came back from the dead. I should be freaking out. The smell of death and ocean coated my skin as did sand and salt. More than anything, I wanted to shower and get into some clean, comfortable clothes. And to get the hell out of there. First, I needed to call Mack. But there was something else I was forgetting. Something important…My memory clicked into place.

Fuck…Justin! Justin! Oh no. Vaughn was going to go after my brother as punishment. And God only knew what Vaughn might do to King, too. Or try to do, anyway. The man had been furious—furious!—about being robbed of his special night with me.

The mortician spoke, but I didn’t understand a word.

“I’m Mia.” I pointed to myself. “Do you have a phone?” I gestured a phone with my hand to show him what I meant. “Phone call?”

He hesitantly nodded yes and pointed to a desk in the corner. He said something else, but I didn’t understand. I wiggled out of the horribly disturbing body bag—ohmyGod—and hopped up from the table.

Eyes bulging with disbelief, he held out the hand piece.

“Thank you.” I nodded and smiled tensely.

I immediately called Justin, but it went into his voice mail as usual. “Dammit, Justin. Answer your goddamned phone! Vaughn is coming for you. And…shit. If you get this, don’t tell anyone—anyone—that you got a message from me.”

Fuck. I hung up, thinking that Mack might know what to do or how to track down my brother.

I was about to dial, but then realized I didn’t know Mack’s number. I only knew King’s cell and the number for the office. I tried both, but no one answered either.

“Shit.” Who else could I call?

Becca. She was my best friend since I was little. If I could trust anyone, it would be her. But if I called, it could possibly drag her into all this.

I had an idea.

I dialed her number, and it rang several times. I almost gave up hope, but the heavenly sound of her groggy voice blessed my eardrums. “Helloooo,” she yawned.

“Becca. It’s me, Mia.”

“Mia? Oh my God. Where the hell are you?”

“I don’t know, but I need your help. I need you to hire a courier and deliver this phone number. Can you see it on your caller ID?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Write it down and have the courier go to the address I’m going to give you. But whatever you do, don’t go anywhere near the place. Do you understand?”

“Mia, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

I heard the distress creeping into her throat, making her words come out all shaky.

“It’s okay, Becca. Everything will be okay. Just tell the courier to ask for a man named Mack. He has a scar over his right brow. Make sure they give this phone number to him. Tell the courier to wait all day if he has to. Okay?”

I only hoped that Mack was still keeping an eye out on the warehouse. It was worth a shot.

“Uh, okay,” she said.

I repeated the instructions and address; all the while the freaked-out mortician stared at me from the corner of the room. I told Becca I loved her and hung up.

The man said something again, and I shook my head. “Sorry. I don’t understand. No English?”

He shook his head.

“Spanish? Un poco español?” I asked. It was worth a shot.

He nodded. “Un poco.”

That was encouraging. “Ummm…donde estamos?” I asked, hoping he could at least tell me where we were.

“Grecia,” he said, but it came out as “Grethia.”

Grecia. Grecia…“Greece! We’re in Greece.” I rubbed my hands over my face.

I wonder where they found me.

“Okay. Ummm…donde yo,” I couldn’t remember the Spanish word for “find.” Encontrar! “Donde encontrarme?”

My Spanish was horrible.

The man shook his head from side to side. He didn’t understand. The morgue door burst open, and an officer pointed a huge frigging gun at me. With his thick build, black eyes, and dark, wavy hair, he reminded me of someone.

The officer yelled in Greek, jerking the gun, but I didn’t know what he said. I assumed the obvious.

I held up my hands, but not too high. My dress was so damned short and growing shorter by the moment as it dried. And every time I moved, the sand sticking to my skin rubbed me raw. “I don’t understand.”

The policeman quickly switched to English—thank goodness—and instructed me to turn around slowly.

I did as he asked, but…Crap! I had to stay here. Mack would be calling. And I certainly didn’t want to be running around where I might bump into someone.

“Can you ask him where I was found? Please?” The policeman handcuffed me and spoke to the mortician, who answered promptly.

With a thick accent the officer said, “You were found on the beach a few hours ago. He says you were dead. He is certain you are a ghost.”

“Pfff…Yeah, right. Ghosts. Do I look like a ghost to you?”

“No. You look like a suspicious person playing sick games. That is why you are coming with me.”

Shit. I had to tell these guys something. I didn’t want word getting out that a dead woman had been found on the beach and then turned out not to be dead.

“Why am I being arrested? I was kidnapped, and…I jumped off the boat. ” I stared with my best traumatized expression—not difficult to do given the situation.

“Who kidnapped you?” he asked in the world’s most condescending tone ever.

“I don’t know. I was on vacation with my friends, and we met some guys in a club. I think one of them put something in my drink.” I am such a horrible liar.

“Where were you?”

My mind scrambled, trying to think of somewhere within this hemisphere where I’d been on business. “I was in Venice.” I’d been there on a photo shoot once. I at least knew the name of a hotel and one bar.

“You are a long way from Venice, Miss…?”

“Mia. Mia King.” I don’t know why I lied about my last name. It was a stupid thing to do.

“Well, Miss King, I will take you down to the station. We can sort all of this out there.” He nodded at the mortician.

“But what did I do? I’m the victim here,” again I lied.

“If that man,” he pointed to the terrified mortician, “says you were dead. You were dead.”

I huffed. “So what are you saying? I was dead and just woke up? As if.” I shook my head. Crap. Crap. Crap. Can this get any worse?

“No. Of course not,” he replied. “But perhaps you and someone else took the real body. And you thought this little game would cover up its disappearance.”

Okay. I didn’t have a reply to that other than, “Who the hell would do such a thing?”

The officer looked at me with his large, brown eyes. “We will find out.” He ushered me toward the door.

My mind spun frantically, hoping to hell that Mack would get to me before anyone learned about me being alive. “I called my friend. I gave him this number. He’ll be worried sick about me.”

The policeman spoke to the mortician and then told me if anyone called, they’d be directed to the station. He walked me through a small administrative office and outside to his car. We looked to be downtown—the historic-looking, gray, brick buildings were stacked tightly together, and there was a large bank on the corner. It was also early morning. The sun wasn’t fully up, and there was a bit of traffic. I wondered how long I’d been gone.

A small chilly wind kicked up, triggering a shiver as the officer put me into the back of his car. I hoped the ring would prevent me from getting pneumonia because I swore I felt icy seawater sloshing around in my cold bones. It was unsettling. Why the hell had King arranged to throw me in the ocean? Landing me here of all places?

“If you are telling the truth,” said the officer with the deep accent, “I apologize for the harsh treatment. But it is not every day that our coroner calls, screaming that the dead have awoken and want to eat his brains.”

Normally, I would laugh at that, but the gravity of the situation had robbed me of my funny bone. I doubted I’d be able to even work up a genuine smile until King was free, Vaughn was dead, and Justin was safe.

“I don’t think I’ll be eating anyone’s brains,” I said. “But I would love a shower and some dry clothes. Or pants. I’d settle for pants.”

He looked at me through the rearview mirror. “We will see what we can do.”

“Thank you, Officer…I didn’t catch your name.”

“Officer Spiros,” he said with a thick accent.

I knew that last name. Spiros. Spiros. “Of Crete? Are we on Crete?”

He glanced at me again through the mirror. “Yes, you are in the city of Heraklion. Why?”

It would be too much of a coincidence. Completely insane, but…but…even that accent sounded familiar. “Do you know Arno? Or…” Crap. What was his full first name? Why was I so bad with names?

“Arsenius?” he said.

“Yes! Arsenius. Do you know him?”

He nodded slowly. “He is my brother. Why do you ask?”

A wave of relief flooded my body. This was why I’d been brought here. King had connections in Crete. But how had he known I’d end up in the right hands?

Does it matter?

No.

I dropped my head. “Thank you, Lord. Oh, thank you.”

Officer Spiros pulled to the side of the street. He turned and faced me. “Who are you?”

I showed him my mark, and his eyes lit up. He said something in Greek that I imagined was a curse or phrase that indicated disbelief. “Where is our king? Why is he not with you?”

“I don’t know where he is, but I know who has him.”

The officer made an unexpected U-turn.

~~

During the drive through the small city—very touristy with lots of hotels, cute restaurants, and nightclubs—I gave Officer Spiros the super-condensed, CliffsNotes version of what had happened and how we’d been taken to Vaughn’s basement. Spiros listened but didn’t say much other than he needed to get me out of sight as quickly as possible, which I assumed meant going to his home.

We made our way down the rocky coast along a winding road. Carved into the hillsides, small farms with neat rows of green overlooked the deep blue ocean shimmering off in the distance. Crete was breathtaking, and I could almost imagine King living here once upon a time when he was a man, a happy man.

The highway cut inland a bit, and then we turned down a long dirt road that headed back toward the ocean.

The car pulled up to a foreboding iron gate with spikes at the top, and Officer Spiros spoke into the intercom. The gate buzzed and hummed as it slid open and we passed. Security cameras atop tall iron posts followed the car until we arrived at a large, brick, circular driveway with an enormous fountain spouting water toward the sky.

“Where are we?” I asked, my teeth chattering.

“This is his home.”

His? “Whose?”

“King, as I believe you call him.”

The enormous home looked like a hotel, not a private residence. Giant white pillars soared to the three-story roof on either side of the home’s entrance—two hand-carved, oversized doors. Bright white plaster and square angles gave the home an ultramodern look.

Off to the right was a tropical garden—lush date trees, fountains, and ponds—and off to the left was a tennis court. Behind that was a sprawling field with a circle in the middle.

And a big honking helicopter.

“King lives here?” I asked.

The officer nodded his head. “Yes. More or less.”

“And you know about…his condition?”

The officer shot me a look as he opened the door and called out for someone. “It is forbidden to speak of his secrets. Our family has sworn an oath to protect those as well as him.”

Okay. So they obviously knew King was a ghost.

I nodded. “So what are we going to do? That psycho Vaughn is after my brother. I need to warn him.” Then, of course, there was King. Thank goodness he was already dead because I had no doubt in my mind that Vaughn would skin him and kill him, too, if given the chance.

Spiros replied, “The family will be here within the hour to discuss it. In the meantime, we will get you fed and cleaned up.”

A plump, older woman in a black dress and headscarf appeared the moment my head nearly swiveled off its hinges in the entryway. The home was a palace—marble sculptures of Greek gods, a wide, circular indoor fountain that flowed into a six-foot pool, enormous indoor palm trees, and high ceilings with murals of celestial beings in white togas, reclining on white, fluffy clouds amid a backwash of blue sky. Light poured in from huge skylights, filling every corner and creating a shimmery effect on the white marble floors.

Officer Spiros spoke to the woman, who looked perfectly at ease until he said a word that sounded like “vasílissa” toward the very end.

“Oh. Oh!” the gray-haired woman covered her mouth and then started to rant.

“What? What’s wrong?” I asked them both.

“Nothing,” he said calmly. “She was not expecting visitors.”

The frantic woman grabbed my hand, making gestures about my body or my horribly short, rapidly drying leather dress.

“Go with her. She will show you to a room and find you something to wear. I will be back in an hour.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To cover your tracks. We don’t want anyone wondering why I did not deliver ‘a suspicious woman’ from the morgue.”

“Do you have a phone I could use?” I had to keep trying to reach Justin.

“No,” he said sternly. “No phone calls. Not until we know it is safe.”

“But I—”

He held out his hand to stop me from speaking. “I understand you are worried, but any rash behavior might make things worse. For everyone. Including my family, who is now responsible for hiding you. So for all of our sakes, please allow us time to discuss the situation before any further action is taken.”

I sighed, seeing the logic in his argument. I certainly didn’t want to do something—like call everyone and their mother, looking for Justin—that might cause suspicion regarding my fate and lead 10 Club here. Enough people were already sailing on this sinking ship.

“Okay,” I said. “I can wait an hour.”

He made a little bow and left.

The woman once again began tugging at my hand to follow her up the staircase. I did as she asked, trying not to feel awkward being in this place, but I simply couldn’t help gawk at its opulence.

She led me down a brightly lit hallway. Little coves with recessed lighting were positioned every four feet or so. Inside were ancient vases and clay pots, some with faded blue dolphins swimming with fish, others with designs resembling squid and other sea creatures. A tapestry of a bull with a border made of blue and white stars hung inside a glass case near the end of the hall beside a large set of double doors, which she pushed open.

Standing to one side, she gestured for me to enter.

“Um. Wow,” was all I could say when I peeked inside. Not that she’d understand me anyway if I’d come up with an appropriate articulation of the scenery before me. The room, aka “Greek bath oasis of my dreams,” was ripped straight from the days of Zeus and Athena. One entire side of the luxurious suite was completely open, stretching out to a white stucco balcony overlooking the sapphire-blue ocean. Huge white columns adorned every doorway, and murals of beautiful goddesses in flowing white gowns covered every wall. In the center, a large sunken pool of water released inviting wisps of steam, and in the corner stood an enormous fluffy bed draped in white linen curtains that billowed gently with the cool ocean breeze flowing through the room.

The woman said something and pointed to the pool.

“Oh. Uh…shower?” I mimed water spraying on my head and washing my hair. I wasn’t exactly in the spa mood, though it certainly looked tempting. Especially as I imagined King in all his naked, muscled glory, stripped down to nothing, soaking away. Did ghosts actually bathe? I wondered.

The woman nodded and gestured for me to follow.

She turned the corner and entered the adjacent, attached room with another breathtaking view of the ocean and a sitting area with a white chaise longue and several comfy-looking chairs. She opened a door and pointed.

“Ah. Thank you.” Inside was an open, modern bathroom with just about anything anyone could ever want—steam room, large open shower with multiple heads, and a rectangular cement water sculpture in the center where the water flowed into another small pool.

This is King’s place? I still couldn’t believe it.

She pointed to the stack of white, fluffy towels and opened a closet door to show me the supplies. “Thank you.”

Wow. I guess I’ve died and gone to heaven. But this was not the sort of place I would imagine the cold, tortured-soul-of-a man to reside. This looked like the palace of a wealthy, modern-day…

King? I almost smiled to myself, but then remembered where he was: a horrible dark basement underneath Vaughn’s home.

The woman left the room walking backwards and making little bows.

“Uh. Thanks?” I bowed my head back, feeling ridiculous. I knew nothing about Greeks other than what I’d learned in mythology, but I’d thought repeated bowing was a Japanese tradition.

After she left, I took a moment to strip off that nightmare of a dress and inspect myself in the mirror. Other than a bit of a rash from the sand on my hips and waist, my skin looked completely normal: seriously pale and in need of some sun. I checked my eyes. Yep. The same old baby blues.

I don’t know what I expected, but that “dying and coming back to life” thing felt way too easy. Shouldn’t there be some sort of side effect? But I felt great. Completely normal.

While I showered away the sand and salt stuck in my hair, I closed my eyes and tried to think through my next steps. If King’s people were loyal to him, then I expected they’d be rushing to his aid. But what about Justin? Would they help him, too?

I began to shake. If Justin died, it would be my fault. I hadn’t anticipated that Vaughn would be so angry that he’d go after my brother. I hoped it wasn’t too late.

I finished up my shower and wrapped my hair and body in soft white towels. That shower had been just what I’d needed to feel human again. When I stepped out of the bathroom, looking for that nice but rather frantic woman, a waft of sweet air hit me in the face.

“King?” Is that you? “King?” I felt those strange tingles in my limbs and over my tattoo. I tiptoed into the room with the pool, but it was empty. King, please. If you’re here, please don’t hide like this. Please, I’m begging you.

There was no response. The sensation and smell dissipated as quickly as it had arrived. Had I imagined it or had King escaped Vaughn’s clutches for a brief moment? I wanted to believe he had and that he’d seen I was all right.

I was about to head back to see if any of the closets in the bathroom had robes or something else to wear when I noticed someone had laid out a long, flowing, white linen dress with blue embroidery on the bottom hem and a slit up one side. A white slip to go underneath and a pair of white sandals were also set out. I put everything on, happy they fit and even happier to once again be wearing something comfortable and dry that had not been in contact with a body bag.

I headed straight for the door, resisting every urge in my body to snoop through the house. After all, this was King’s real home. His ocean-side, Greek palace. I’d bet that I’d find real clues about the man and who he truly was: Tortured soul searching for salvation? Or evil bastard with no hope of redemption? I knew what I believed, but what I wouldn’t give for something more than just a flicker of green light as I’d seen when we were inside Vaughn’ s basement.

I made my way downstairs and went in search of the horde of Spiros. It didn’t take long because all I had to do was follow the sound of screaming. I passed through a formal living room—a gorgeous, modern space with sleek, black-and-white furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, all overlooking the ocean—and found my way to the dining room. It had a white rug over chocolate-brown floors and a long, beautiful, black table surrounded by white-upholstered rectangular-backed chairs. I seriously had to compliment King’s decorator if I ever met him or her. The place belonged on the cover of Modern Greek Living.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the twenty men and women point and yell at each other. Officer Spiros stood at the head, gesturing for calmness. Clearly they were divided about something. But what?

I cleared my throat, and silence fell over the room like an icy blanket. I intuitively stepped back. Their unwelcoming faces—especially the women, who half-snarled—displayed a look of disbelief. Were they going to attack me? Yell at me? I didn’t know.

I held up my hands. “Look. I just want to help King; we’re all on the same side.” Their eyes gravitated to my tattoo, and the women in the room, five of them with olive skin and dark brown hair and eyes, gasped. Everyone turned back toward each other and started pointing and screaming.

I blew out a breath. “Listen!” I barked, grabbing everyone’s attention once again. “I just experienced death-by-ghost heart failure and was brought back to life—a very horrific and creepy experience, I should add—and while I appreciate that you’re a big, big family that I know absolutely nothing about other than Arno seems to be a nice guy, and it probably takes you folks a while to work through your issues—I’d like to point out that some psycho son of a bitch is after my baby brother, and he has King trapped in his basement. So I would super-duper appreciate if you could all table your dispute and get whatever the hell you need from me so I can get on my merry frigging way!” Once again, no one spoke. I glanced at Officer Spiros. “Am I missing something?”

He shook his head slowly from side to side. “No. Why would you think that?”

Oh, crap. He was a worse liar than I was; he was hiding something.

I blew out a puffy-cheeked breath. “Okay. Does anyone know where I can find a phone and get a passport? And an American Express office? A U.S. Consulate? B of A?”

More stares.

“What?”

Officer Spiros stepped around the table. “Why don’t we speak in the other room while my family continues the discussion?”

I followed him out into the living room and through another doorway that led to a huge monster of a showroom kitchen. He called for that older woman again—Piretria?—and when she appeared like magic, he rattled off some instructions. She jumped to work, grabbing ingredients from the refrigerator.

“Who is that?” I asked.

“She is one of the king’s servants,” he said with a thick accent.

It was so odd to hear King referred to as “the king.” My mind simply couldn’t wrap around any of it.

“Is she part of your family?” I asked, wondering who everyone was and how many people worked for King.

He looked almost insulted. “The Spiros are the king’s loyal servants. But we protect him, assist him in managing his affairs, and fight for him if necessary. We do not scrub floors.”

“And her?” I asked, glancing at the woman in the head scarf.

“She is a simple Ypirétria. A maid. Just like her mother and grandmother and all of the women in her family before her. They are servants of the king.”

Again, I couldn’t begin to understand how King, a ghost, lived in a palace, had servants, and entire families dedicated to him.

“So she works here for King. Was this place a hotel once?” Because it really did look like a resort, not a home.

“No. This is our king’s palace. He began building it a few years ago in anticipation of…” His words trailed off.

“What?” I leaned into the counter.

“Of a special event he plans to hold soon.”

I lifted my brows. “Special? Like a party?”

“Yes. Like a party.”

I shrugged. “Seems a little extravagant to build a house just for a party, but hey, I’m just a resurrected Seer of Light. What do I know?”

He swallowed as if I’d said something unsavory. “You are a Seer?”

“Okay. Enough with the bullcrap. Why is everyone acting so strange? Did I do something wrong?”

Officer Spiros, who looked like a thinner, slightly older version of his brother Arno, wasn’t handsome in a traditional sense, but he carried himself with a certain air of authority. Authority he was struggling to maintain around me. Why?

“No. Of course not, it’s just that…” He scratched his clean-shaven chin. “Our king has waited a very, very long time to…”

“To what?” I asked.

He blew out a breath and looked at his feet. “A Seer? You are really a Seer?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

Again he sighed and shook his head, cursing under his breath. “It is simply that my people are not especially fond of your kind. Not after…”

“Oh. I get it. Hagne. You hate Seers because of Hagne. But I’m not her. I didn’t curse King.”

He shook his head. “History and tradition are important to the Spiros. And our tradition of hating your people goes back many generations.”

I blinked and shook my head. Complete silliness. “Fine. Whatever. It’s not like I’m going to live here. So hate me all you like, just as long as you help me—”

“But you will live here. Your place is beside our king. And this is your home. He has waited a very, very long time to find his true queen.”

If I’d been holding a glass or some other breakable object in my hand, it would have crashed to the floor at that moment. “Queen?”

“Didn’t he tell you?”

I shook my head no, but the man had to be mistaken or playing a joke.

He cursed under his breath.

“Look, uh—what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘officer.’”

“Stefanos.” He made a little dip with his head.

“Okay. Stefanos, I’m not sure what King told you, but I am not his woman, girlfriend, significant other, or anything else.”

“But you bear his mark.”

Why did everyone keep pointing that out? “I know, but—shit, never mind; it’s a long story. I really, really need to start tracking down my brother. I’m not joking.”

Stefanos nodded. “Yes, of course. How can we be of assistance?”

“How about a phone?” I would start by calling my parents to see if they’d heard anything from Justin. Plus, by now, they had to be worried. And my poor mother, this was not a good time to be pushing her mentally.

He hesitated. “I cannot allow that. Not until you’ve told us what happened. We must ensure you are not in any further danger.”

Oh Lord. “You just asked how you can help. I need to call my mom. She just had a stroke, and my disappearing will not help her.”

“Five minutes. Sit with us for five minutes so that we may fully understand the facts. Then we will help you.”

“Fine.” I marched back toward the madness in the other room. Once again a stark silence fell over everyone.

“Please, sit.” Stefanos gestured me to an empty chair at the head of the table.

I took it and quickly began rattling off everything that happened over the past few weeks since King went missing. The five women and fifteen men, all in their mid to late thirties, had the same olive skin and wavy, dark brown hair and big brown eyes. Eyes that they used to slowly drill right through me as they stared like hypnotized fanboys and girls.

“Okay. That’s enough. I am not his queen. Stop looking at me like that.”

“But you bear his mark,” said one woman to my right with long, wavy hair.

“Yes. That’s because King put me to sleep and then—you know what, it doesn’t matter. I am not his. And why is everyone so concerned with my mark when King is being held prisoner? Don’t you think that’s a bit more important?”

A few of the men mumbled quietly to one and other, but I didn’t understand.

I looked at Stefanos. “Well?”

“This is what we have been debating. We were left instructions, very specific instructions. King said that he would be going away for a while but under no circumstances were we to interfere.”

My jaw dropped. “But…but…” I threw up my hands. “Obviously he didn’t anticipate being captured by that sick psycho.”

“I am afraid we can do nothing,” Stefanos said.

“You’ve got to be joking! He needs our help.”

Stefanos shook his head. “I am sorry, but we will do whatever we can to help you find your brother.”

I sighed with relief. Well, at least there was that. But I wasn’t about to leave King in some horrible basement to rot. He didn’t deserve that. Not after all of the suffering he’d already endured. “Can anyone at least tell me if they know where this Vaughn guy lives?” It couldn’t be that far. After all, I’d washed up on a beach here in Crete.

They exchanged glances. “We do not know, but our king has prohibited all but Arno from engaging with members of this club he runs. It is too dangerous.”

He “runs”?

“I wished King ran it,” I said. “Then he could shut that damned thing down.”

The woman with the long, wavy hair said something sharp to Stefanos.

“Oh. Did I say he ran it? I misspoke. My English isn’t always so perfect. I meant that he belongs to the Club.”

I held up my hands. “No worries. Can I call my parents now?”

Stefanos cleared his throat. “No. I’m sorry, but you cannot.”

“But you said—”

“I said we would help you. Which means, we will.”

“I’m lost.”

“Though the formal ceremony has not been conducted yet, you are still our queen. We will need to keep you here until it is safe.”

“What the hell is the matter with you people?” I screamed.

“I’m sorry, my quee—”

“Mia! My goddamned name is Mia! I am not your queen, but so help me God, if you try to stop me from helping my brother, I will—”

Stefanos cut me off again. “I would be very careful. Words once spoken cannot be taken back, especially when one makes a promise—even a cruel one. We would lose all respect for you if you didn’t follow through.”

Huh? “You are all completely mad.” I wasn’t about to stay there with this strange King cult. Not on my life. And if they didn’t want to help me, then I’d go it alone. I was sure I could find a way to get access to my cash—tourists got robbed of their belongings all the time. As for the passport, there had to be an embassy in Athens. I could find a way off this island and get there.

“I’m leaving.” I turned for the doorway, but two large men who reminded me of Arno blocked my way.

“Ah. There, you see,” said Stefanos. “That is how we do things around here. We speak only words we are prepared to follow through with.”

“You can’t be serious,” I seethed, glancing at the faces around the table.

Stefano glanced at the two large Greek guys behind me. “Please make sure that our,” he hesitated, “that Mia does not leave the grounds or contact anyone.”

Furious was too tame a word to describe my feelings. “How dare you people? You have no right to subject me to the stupidity of your little congregation. My brother is in serious shit, and he needs my help. So does King.”

“We will begin searching for your brother and do what we can to assist him.”

“How? How do you even know where to start looking? The answer is you don’t, and I’m the only person here with a rat’s ass of a chance in finding him.”

“Then you will share what you know and let us do the work—we cannot risk something happening to you.”

“I can handle myself,” I argued. Hell, I’d just come back from the dead! And survived Vaughn’s basement! What else could possibly be tougher than that?

How about being declared queen by a bunch of fanatical King groupies?

“You are but one person,” said the woman with the long hair. “We are Spiros. We are thousands.”

I lifted my brows in confusion.

Stefanos must’ve understood my expression because he offered, “We are the king’s council, but there are many more Spiros.”

Another secret society? Or were they more like some crazy religious cult?

Does it matter? They are going to keep you here.

Ohmygod. I shook my head. How did I keep getting mixed up in all this crap? And why did everyone want to keep me against my will?

“What about King?” I asked. “You’re not going to leave him in that man’s basement forever, are you?”

“We will obey King’s wishes, even if we do not agree with them,” Stefanos said coldly.

Sheep. They’re mindless, stubborn sheep. I could see there was absolutely no use arguing with them; therefore I would need to wait for the right moment and then run for it. In the meantime, I hoped one of them was able to find and warn Justin; Vaughn was coming for him.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The two burly men wearing khaki shorts and white Polos escorted me back upstairs toward the room with the pool. On the way, I once again glanced at the miniature coves displaying what had to be some of King’s coveted treasures.

“What are these?” I asked the shorter one.

“They are Minoan artifacts,” he said proudly.

I didn’t want to admit my ignorance about who the Minoans were, so I simply nodded. I made a mental note to read up on them later. “Am I going to be held prisoner indefinitely?”

We stopped just outside the double doors leading to the room.

“You are not our prisoner,” answered the taller man. “This is your home, and we are protecting you in it.”

I stared blankly. They were all delusional. Fucking delusional. I was ready to pull out my frigging blonde hair by the roots and make them choke on it.

“My home is…” Okay. It was my parents’ guest room. “San Francisco.”

The tall guy stepped around me and opened the door. “Your meal has been set out on the balcony. If you need anything, simply let us know. We’ll be right out here.”

I stepped inside, and he closed the door, leaving me all alone with nothing but my terrified thoughts.

I walked through the room and outside to the balcony. The maid—couldn’t remember her name (so typical of me)—had set out a plate of flatbread, cheeses, grapes, olives, and some other goodies on a small table facing the magnificent view. A white tablecloth and bottle of wine made the meal look more like an event rather than simple food.

Instantly salivating, I sat, realizing how starved I felt. I began devouring the bread, then the cheese and fruit, not stopping until I was almost done, at which point, I finally looked up. It was noon-ish now and a perfect day—crisp blue sky, an endless stretch of breathtaking, deep-blue ocean, and a tepid, calm breeze. I could honestly say that under different circumstances, I’d die of happiness if this place were my home. But there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d ever go along with such insanity or agree to be King’s. Yes, I understood I felt attracted to him. Yes, I knew that somewhere deep down inside, there was a good man looking for salvation. Yes, I wanted him to have it. But none of that meant I would ever agree to be his. He was dangerous. His world was dangerous. And the guy was a frigging ghost whose need for revenge completely consumed him.

As soon as this was over, if I survived, I would be turning the full force of my efforts toward separating myself from this entire mess.

My mind quickly hopped over to the deal I’d made with King right before he’d stopped my heart. He’d said that if I gave him one night, just one, and I still wanted to leave, that he’d let me. Yes, I believed he’d meant it. King wasn’t the type to break his word or make a deal he didn’t intend to keep.

My tired mind drifted off, wondering what being with King might be like. Would his idea of “a night together” consist of throwing me over that goddamned desk, or would he take his time like he’d said and, perhaps, bring me here, where we’d soak our sweaty, sore bodies in between sessions of hard, hot, voracious sex?

I swallowed. Why am I thinking about this right now?

What I needed to be doing was find a weapon I could use to get the hell out there.

I stilled. Was I really prepared to hurt someone? Because I knew the Spiros were fully prepared to do what it took to prevent me from leaving. What if I ended up not just hurting someone, but killing them? Could I do that to help Justin?

Crap. I don’t know.

Other options? Other options….Given the estate was guarded and fenced, perhaps I could wait until nightfall and sneak out. There had to be a way out along the rocky shore even if it meant swimming part of the way. And it couldn’t be more than a few hours walk back to the main town. By morning, I could be parked outside the American Express office—there had to be one, right? They had an emergency card and passport replacement service, which I knew because I’d lost my stuff once in Italy while working. If I acted quickly, I’d be armed with a prepaid cell and on the first ferry or whatever-the-hell boat to the mainland before anyone found me.

I only prayed that I was not too late to help Justin. In the meantime, it was going to be a long, long night, and I needed to get some rest. Because I wouldn’t be stopping until I reached my brother.

I lay down on the heavenly soft bed and closed my eyes for a quick nap. A huge fucking mistake. Because when I opened them again, I was no longer in King’s beautiful bedroom overlooking the Aegean Sea. I was standing in a dark, empty apartment permeated with the stench of death.

~~

I didn’t know how I’d arrived or exactly where I was, but I knew the person kneeling before me sobbing hysterically over a rotting corpse.

“Justin!” I cried. I lunged for him, but my arms passed right through his shoulder. I stilled for a moment and inspected my translucent hands. What the hell?

Justin continued weeping over the decaying body, clasping something tightly in his hand.

“Justin!” I yelled once again, but as far as he was concerned, I was, I was…a ghost?

Justin opened his hand, cursed at the object, and placed it on top of the body’s forehead.

It looked like a small gray stone with crisscrossed etchings over the surface.

The Artifact? Why does Justin have the Artifact?

He slowly rose from the floor and hobbled over to the breakfast bar that divided the kitchen from the living room.

“What’s happening?” I said aloud. “Justin! Justin!” I swiped for him once again, but my hand sliced through thin air instead of making contact.

He began scribbling on a notepad with one hand while wiping his tears away with the other.

Oh my Lord, what is happening?

The only source of light in the entire place was a solitary light above the kitchen sink a few feet from where Justin stood. I leaned in closely to make out what he wrote.

Test 53, no response. Held artifact in left hand.

He slammed his fist into the counter. “Come back to me, Jamie. Come back.”

Jamie? This was Jamie? The woman who worked at the embassy and was marked by Vaughn as his “special someone”? What happened to her? Why was Justin trying to bring her back?

My eyes swept the horrific-looking, bluish figure in a brown dress stretched across the floor over a tarp. She had a sticky-looking black stain over her left breast, and…No. No. No. Oh Lord. I held in a horrible cry. She had an inflated belly.

Pregnant. She had been pregnant. Oh Lord, when we’d spoken on the phone those few times when Justin originally went missing, I remember she’d been rudely crunching away on crackers. This was why.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My mind whirled in a frantic mess. Why was Justin with her dead body?

My brother had told me about meeting her. That was how he’d known the significance of my “K” mark. But their relationship had to have been much, much more than he’d let on.

My eyes took in the painful display of my baby brother desperately trying to revive the woman. Yes. Of course their relationship had been more. He loved her. Was the baby his, too? I wondered.

Oh Lord. I couldn’t take it. This was simply too much.

I sat next to him on the floor and cried, watching him as he worked relentlessly to make the Artifact work.

How had he gotten it? He’d said he left it in some empty apartment on the day that King was taken by Vaughn. Had he lied to me? Did he make his own deal with Vaughn to keep the stone? After all, Vaughn had said it was a worthless rock.

Because that’s what Justin told him.

Shit, Justin. What did you do?

I ran my hands through my hair, groaning and trying to make sense of all this. Okay. Somehow, somewhere along the way he met Jamie and fell in love with her. Was that how he’d gotten mixed up with Vaughn? He met Jamie? Or was it the other way around? I didn’t know, but then something must’ve happened to Jamie. Then Justin set up King in exchange for keeping the Artifact so he could bring her back.

I knew that wasn’t the entire story, but the pieces fit. And it explained why Justin lied to me. He loved her and wanted to bring her back.

I stood and looked at his notes. He’d laid out, in detail, every attempt made to use the Artifact. He’d done everything I might have attempted, including praying, holding it, and laying it on the person or a photo of them.

So how did it work? Or was the Artifact nothing more than a rock?

I didn’t know, but I had to help him end this gruesome experiment. Besides, King had been dead for a long time, although I didn’t know exactly how long, but it was a while. So if that damned stone actually worked, I had to believe that one didn’t need a rotting corpse to make it function.

Lord, I hope.

Suddenly, there was knock at the door. Justin’s eyes widened with horror.

“Justin, we know you are in there.”

Vaughn? No! No! “Justin, run!” I screamed, but he couldn’t hear me.

Justin’s head swiveled as he looked around the empty apartment. “Shit.” He looked at the rock in his hands and blinked several times.

“Run! Fucking run! Run!” I wailed.

Justin took the stone and popped it into his mouth. I watched as he struggled to swallow. But the moment the door burst open and Vaughn entered with a sharp knife in hand, Justin found the will to choke it down.

“Where is it?” Vaughn asked.

Justin’s body shook. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Vaughn looked down at the dead body on the floor. Rage filled his hazy brown eyes. “You little fucker. I was going to kill you for lying to me about the Artifact. Then your bitch of a sister robbed me of my fun, so I thought to skin you alive. But now,” he roared, “now I find you here! With her! Dead! I’m not gonna kill you; I’m gonna torture the living hell out of you!”

Justin held up his hands. “I didn’t kill her. Some tracker woman you hired shot her in Edinburgh.”

Oh no. It was Jamie who’d been shot in that warehouse in Edinburgh. King and I showed up moments after, looking for Justin, who’d been spotted earlier. We found the tracker’s body, but I knew someone else had died there, too. There was a pool of red light spread over the floor. But someone had taken that second body, and I couldn’t figure out why.

Now I knew. Justin had, in fact, been there. Justin had taken her.

“Do you think I give a fuck?” Vaughn screamed. “You think you can steal from me? You think you can lie to me, you little piece of shit. Where is that fucking rock?” he yelled.

“The Artifact is a joke. I traded it away.”

Vaughn shook his head. “Really, now? To whom?”

Justin didn’t answer.

“I’ll give you one chance, Justin. Tell the truth, and I’ll let you live. I’ll even let you keep the rotting bitch, too. But if you’re lying, I’ll burn you both.”

“Don’t believe him, Justin! He’ll kill you either way. Just run! Please,” I sobbed.

“All you need to know,” said Justin, “is that I traded it away for a potion that will resurrect her. I’m just waiting for it to work now,” he lied. “But you’ll never see the Artifact again. Not that the damned thing works. It’s just a fucking roc—”

Vaughn lunged at Justin, and I screamed. There was nothing I could do as the knife plunged into my brother’s stomach.

Justin screamed, but Vaughn held tight and twisted.

“No! Justin!” I yelled.

Vaughn tossed Justin to the floor and spit on his body. “May you fucking rest in peace with that fucking whore.”

I crumpled to the floor. God no…

“Mia! Mia!”

My eyes snapped open, and I found myself panting, yet unable to truly breathe.

“Mia!” Mack shook me hard.

“Mack?” I sat up and threw myself forward. “Vaughn killed my brother. He killed him,” I sobbed.

Mack stroked the back of my head. “Shhh…It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. Oh my God. It wasn’t. My brother was dead.

“No,” I hiccupped. “He killed him.”

“It was a dream,” Mack said.

I shook my head and looked into his wide blue eyes. “It was real. But I couldn’t do anything because I was a ghost. That’s what happened when I died.”

Mack grabbed my face and stared into my eyes. He didn’t speak. There was nothing to say.

Justin is dead. Dead. Vaughn killed him…

“Mia? Can you hear me?” Mack gently slapped my cheek.

I blinked and looked at the people standing around the room. Spiros.

I wiped my eyes with my arm and stood, staring each and every one of them in the eyes. Hate and sorrow filled every ounce of my soul.

“Mia? Are you all right?” Mack said quietly.

I looked at the people around me. “No. I’m not fucking all right. And you fucking Spiros have twenty-four hours to find my brother’s body, or I will curse each and every one of you. Do. You. Understand? Do you hear me?”

Mack grabbed my arm and shook me hard. “Mia, Stop! You’re in shock. Don’t—”

“No!” I snapped my arm away. “I mean every goddamned word, and now there is nothing they, or anyone, can do to me.” I held up my hand to show them the ring on my finger. “And that includes killing me. So you better find my brother or start running. Because I’m done. Do hear me? I’m done playing nice with you fucking people.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

After my verbal rampage ended, the physical one commenced. I’d never been so enraged and devastated in my life. And I seriously doubted I ever would be.

The question I’d had earlier about being able to hurt another person simply to save my brother? Well, that had been answered. I was willing to hurt anyone just to feel better. Because Justin was gone, and that wasn’t right.

How he’d ended up being Jamie Henshaw’s lover or possibly the father of her baby, I didn’t give a fuck. They were all dead, and the person who’d taken Justin’s life wasn’t worth the dirt stuck to the bottom of Justin’s shoes.

I started in King’s room, breaking anything I could get my hands on. I threw chairs into mirrors, I slammed vases into walls, I broke anything within arm’s reach.

When I was done trashing that room, I yanked open the doors to the hallway, ready to destroy his precious fucking palace and burn it to the ground.

“Mia!” Mack yelled, trying to get me to stop, ducking and hiding behind doorways. I’m sure he hoped I’d get it all out and return to the nice girl I once was, but that was impossible. She was gone. Dead. Reborn. Angry.

Not even the valiant Spiros dared to get in my way. Perhaps they were smarter than they looked.

I marched into the hallway and spotted those fucking stupid Minoan artifacts. “Do you love these, King?” I yelled. “Well, you can’t have them!”

I swung hard, determined to knock a beige vase to its death, but a hand reached out and caught my arm. I glanced up at the stupid a-hole with a death wish and froze.

“Ju-Ju-Justin?” I whispered, unable to believe what I saw.

His big green eyes were filled with conflict, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he stared at me, his face filled with agony.

“Oh my God. Is it really you?”

He stared with an ominous expression, his eyes scanning the surroundings as if he was just as confused as I.

He dropped my hand and gazed blankly into my eyes.

“Can you hear me?” I snapped my fingers. “Justin?”

His eyes sharpened, and he suddenly appeared to be acutely lucid. “Mia?”

“Yes. It’s me.” I nodded, the tears trickling from my eyes.

“How did I get here?”

I shook my head slowly. “I don’t know.”

“I think…I think…I’m dead.” His voice was filled with regret and pain.

I nodded, but couldn’t speak.

“I lost her, Mia. I tried, but I couldn’t bring her back. King was right. It only works for him.”

The Artifact only worked for King? King had told him that?

“She’s dead, Mia. That tracker shot her in Edinburgh. She’s dead.”

“I know, Justin,” I sobbed. “I know. But what happen—”

“Why am I here?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, but half of me was overjoyed to see him one more time. The other half wondered why his soul wasn’t at peace. Was it because he’d swallowed that damned rock?

“Can you bring me back?” His voiced quivered. “I have to keep trying. The baby—the baby…” His words trailed off, and I winced. I suddenly wondered if this was real. Or was my mind trying to reconcile the truth with what I wanted to believe?

No headaches. You don’t have a headache.

It had to be real, then, didn’t it? Maybe I was seeing him because of my gift. Maybe our connection, our blood, allowed it. I didn’t know. I didn’t care about the “how.”

I ran my hands through my hair. “Justin, where were you?”

Panic filled his eyes, and then he glanced over his shoulder. “They’re coming, Mia.” He turned back to me. “They’re coming for me. And they are coming for you.”

“Who, Justin?”

“The 10 Club.”

Justin continued looking over his shoulder into King’s bedroom, but there was nothing there except for the mess I’d left behind. Was he reliving some horrible memory?

“Justin!” I barked. “You have to tell me where you were when Vaughn found you.”

He looked at me again. “You can’t be here. They are coming. It’s not safe. Run, Mia. Run!”

And just like that, Justin faded to nothing. “No! Justin, no!”

“Mia!” I felt a sharp slap across my face.

My consciousness sparked back to life, and I found myself pressed against the wall, just outside of King’s bedroom. Mack held me firmly with two hands by my shoulders.

“Mack?” I whispered. Was he a ghost, too? Was I?

Oh Lord, I’m losing my mind.

“Are you real?” I asked.

Mack nodded with a slightly horrified frown. “Yeah. I’m real,” he replied with a forced calm. “Who were you talking to? Was it King?”

“No, my brother.” I moved my head vigorously from side to side. “At least, I think it was him.”

“What did he say?”

“He asked me to bring him back.”

Mack sighed, but I didn’t know what his sigh meant.

“Justin said that King is the only one who can get the Artifact to work. Do you know anything about it?”

“No, Mia, I don’t.”

“We have to get him back. We have to.”

“But—”

“No!” I dug my nails into Mack’s arm. “You will call Vaughn and tell him I know where the Artifact is. You will tell him that I want to make a trade.”

“Mia, no—”

“No. You listen to me,” I seethed. “I’m tired of everyone telling me what to do when it’s my ass, my life, and my family on the line. You will call him, Mack. And you will make the trade.”

Mack’s tired eyes narrowed. “And if he asks how I know?”

“Know what?”

“Where the Artifact is?”

“Who the hell cares?—tell him that!”

“King will care. He doesn’t want to leave Vaughn’s yet; it’s not part of the plan,” Mack argued.

Mack’s words stuck inside my ears as if my own brain resisted letting them in. “Wha-wha-what did you say?”

Mack’s blue eyes lit up. “I—I—”

“Did you say that King wants to be there?”

Mack stilled and turned a ghostly shade of white. “Fuck. You weren’t supposed to know.”

“Know what?” Mack didn’t have to answer. No, not really. Because the ugly, deformed, and evil pieces slid into place, penetrating my heart like a poison of the soul.

No. No, please, Lord. Tell me it isn’t what I think.

I could scarcely breathe. My insides twisted with rage and horror. “K-K-King isn’t really a prisoner there, is he?” I whispered. “That’s why he told the Spiros not to intervene.”

Mack’s jaw flapped a bit and then, “He-he-he’ll kill me if I knows I told you.”

Oh my God. King had been able to come and go the entire time. Had he been faking those blackouts, too?

“But why?” I asked. “Why would King want to be there? Why would King allow himself to be held captive? Why would he allow me to be held captive?”

Mack didn’t reply, but the look of shame on his face told me that the reason would be painful.

The word “why” repeated over and over in my head. Only one answer kept coming up for air, and it was the one thing I knew King would do almost anything for. I just never realized he might want it so badly that he would hurt even me and my family to get it.

“Does it have something to do with that goddamned Artifact?” I asked.

Mack looked away.

Motherfucker!

My fists clenched into tight balls. “He thought he could just let the Artifact come to him. Didn’t he? He thought Vaughn had it.”

Mack’s blue eyes lit up. “Mia, King would never have let anything—”

“No. Don’t say another fucking word, Mack. You knew the entire time that this was some idiotic, bullcrap lie. You played me.”

“No. I did what I needed to help King.”

“Meaning, you helped King create an illusion.” Was there anything Mack wouldn’t do for King? Even allowing me to fall into Vaughn’s hands? Shit. He killed me. He killed me instead of just getting me the hell out of there. All to keep up the fucking charade!

The horror of the situation grabbed hold, and my mind screamed toward Earth. It shattered into a million tiny particles of hate and anger.

I tried to gasp, but no air could pass. Oh my Lord, it had all been some giant, orchestrated event.

But then Justin died. Was that part of King’s plan, too? Did King think he could do this to me because he “owned” me like some pet?

I turned my head and noticed the entire flock of Spiros gathered at the far end of the hallway, watching me with horrified expressions. Did they feel sorry for me? Or did they just think I was the world’s biggest fool?

I hung my head and covered my teary eyes. Why, Mia? Why? You trust and you believe and fucking hope. But look what it’s gotten you, you stupid bitch! A dead brother. A ruined life. Humiliation…

Yes, but you’re alive. And it’s not too late to change this, to change everything.

“Change,” I mumbled.

I don’t know why, but my gaze locked onto that balcony overlooking the sapphire-blue ocean, only now it was nighttime and the ocean was nothing but an endless stretch of blackness.

I wandered over to it, hypnotized by the sound.

“Mia? Where are you going?” I heard Mack say.

I wasn’t going anywhere physically, but mentally I was gone. Or maybe changing was the right word. I felt it in my bones, in my soul, and in the scorched cells of my angry heart.

I gazed out over the dark waves, allowing the change to happen. I relished it. Letting go was bliss. Letting go was freedom. I would no longer worry or care or hope. Not for anyone but myself and my parents. World be damned. 10 Club be damned. Vaughn be damned.

King be damned.

“You need to come back inside,” Mack said.

“Why?” My head snapped in his direction. “You think I’m going to jump? You think I want to end my life?”

He stepped back. “No.”

“Good because there’s only one thing that I want.”

“Which is?” Mack took another step back.

“I want you to call that fucking piece of shit Vaughn and make the trade for King.”

“But—”

“Now, Mack!” I stepped toward him. “Or so help me, I’ll make sure that Artifact finds its way to the bottom of the ocean. And what will King say then?”

It wasn’t much leverage, but at that moment, only I knew where that stupid rock was. And I wanted to make damned sure I got to see King’s face for what was to come next: my revenge.

Mack held out his hands. “Okay. I’ll call Vaughn to make the trade, but there’s no guarantee he’ll go for it.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it work. You can fuck him like you fucked Anna if you have to. Anything for King and his Artifact, right?”

Anger flickered in Mack’s eyes, and I knew that I’d wounded him. But I didn’t care. Not after this. Not after Mack lied to me and tricked me. All because he was so damned loyal to King that he couldn’t see past right or wrong.

“What? Did I hurt your feelings?” I said bitterly.

Mack’s face went from hurt to a more neutral shade of disgust. “As you wish, my queen,” he spat.

He turned away, and so did I.

The ocean. That was the only thing I wanted to see. Just the ocean.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I don’t know how much time passed—hours or days—but I refused to look away from those waves. Part of me felt like if I breathed too hard, I might disintegrate into nothing. Or if I looked away, I’d have to face the nightmare of a person I’d become. I couldn’t even bear to see my own hands, but I knew they were purple, the color of King.

It killed me to no longer be a person I felt proud of. Was this how King felt?

The worst part of all this was that when I began to replay the facts, the signs were right in front of my nose the entire time. King had said that he knew—knew—Vaughn planned to trap him and would be prepared. And for me to believe that anyone could capture him? Someone so powerful and determined? I was an idiot. Even before I learned he was a ghost, I knew that King was no ordinary man. He was hard and cold, indestructible and fierce; he was powerful and dangerous. With one look from those light gray eyes, he could kowtow me into submission. With the flick of his wrist, he could end a man’s life. Yet, I’d fallen, hook line and sinker, for his prisoner act.

What I couldn’t understand was why he simply hadn’t told me the truth? Was he afraid I wouldn’t play along?

I suppose I wouldn’t have.

But why wouldn’t King have taken the Artifact? Especially if Justin had left it sitting in some empty apartment in London. Why the giant charade?

It dawned on me then that perhaps Justin had lied to me. Perhaps he’d never left it in that apartment, but had kept it for himself. For Jamie.

It would explain why King might have voluntarily allowed himself to be taken. If he believed Vaughn had the thing, it would only be a question of time before Vaughn disclosed its location.

But I suppose in the end, however, the whys and hows didn’t matter. Because the end result wouldn’t change. Justin was dead. My baby brother. My best friend.

And for what?

“Miss Turner,” the deep, recognizable voice said from behind me.

I swiveled on my heel. “King.”

As usual, he looked elegant and masculine in his signature black suit.

He dipped his head slowly, his light eyes sparkling with mistrust.

“So Vaughn let you go?” I said.

King nodded his perfectly combed head of black hair. “Apparently. Of course, I am wondering why.”

Just then, Mack appeared in the room, glaring at me. He held a cell phone in his palm. “He wants to know where the Artifact is.”

King’s gray eyes lit with fury. “What?”

“I traded the Artifact.” I smiled wickedly. “For you.”

“You have the stone?” King yelled. “You will hand it over to me!”

“Oh no. A deal is a deal. And I promised it to Vaughn to save you, silly,” I said, dripping with sugary sweetness. “After all, you were in trouble, weren’t you?”

I looked at Mack. “Tell him it’s inside my dead brother’s stomach.”

King glanced at Mack. “Don’t you fucking dare, Mack.”

Mack’s panicked-filled face bounced back and forth between us several times.

“Do it, Mack,” I said. “You’re the one who made the deal.”

“But I—”

“Don’t listen to her, Mack,” King warned.

I laughed because that’s what horrible people do in situations like these. “King doesn’t give a shit about you or me, Mack. So think what Vaughn will do if you don’t deliver. Think long and hard about what’s important to you in this world because he’ll take it away, Mack.”

Mack’s conflicted gaze dropped to the floor, and I felt a sadistic satisfaction. I knew that Mack valued his loyalty to King. But I had to guess he cared about something else, too. Something more important. A mother, a sister, a child. Whatever it was, he now had to choose: his loyalty to King or…the alternative—welshing on a deal with Vaughn.

King’s eyes wandered out toward the ocean, and he scratched his chin. “Do it, Mack. Tell Vaughn,” he said in a low, calculatedly calm voice.

Mack’s head snapped up. “But I don’t care. I’ll—”

“Do it, I said,” barked King. “At least I’ll know he has it, and it won’t take me long to get it from him.”

Mack glared at me, and I could literally feel the rage. Slowly, he took the phone off of mute and held it to his face. “Justin swallowed it.” He hung up and left.

I grinned at King. “There. Now everyone has sacrificed something they love.” King, his stupid fucking Artifact. Mack, his loyalty. And me, Justin.

“Consider us even. Almost.” I turned and headed toward the door.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” King seethed.

“Home. I’m going home.”

“We’re not done here, Mia.”

“Oh, I’m done,” I said casually. “I’m done with you. I’m done with caring. And I’m done being afraid.”

“If you go back to your old life, Vaughn will find out that you’re not dead. He’ll kill you,” he warned.

I laughed and held up my finger with the ring. What could Vaughn do that he hadn’t done already? “Like I fucking care, King. What else do I have to lose?” Besides, Vaughn would wish he’d never been born. When I was done with him, he’d be wishing for death. I’d skin him alive. Because I was not the same Mia anymore. Oh no. This Mia wanted blood. This Mia would move heaven and earth to get it.

“Mia,” King warned, “remember, I can hear your thoughts.”

“So?”

“So learn from my mistakes. Revenge won’t bring Justin back.”

“You did this to me! You and your goddamned need for that fucking rock. So don’t you dare preach!” I screamed. “I only want one thing in this world, and that’s to hear that sick bastard Vaughn scream like he made Justin scream.”

I was halfway down the hall when I heard King say, “Revenge won’t bring Justin back, but the Artifact will, and I’m the only one who knows how to use it.”

I blinked and then looked at my feet. King wanted to make another deal. Now? After he’d betrayed me in the worst kind of way? I’d never trust that monster again. Never!

“I warned you, Mia,” he said, reading my dark thoughts. “We gave you every chance to run. And I showed you who I truly was.”

I took a deep breath. Yes, but you never gave Justin a chance, did you? How about that baby? Or Jamie?

King was suddenly behind me, so close I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. “I know,” he said with regret. “But that was not the outcome I’d hoped for.”

I looked at him once again, ignoring the beautiful vision of masculinity before me. “Does it matter?”

“Not to you, no.”

“Then your point?” I asked, turning to face him.

“My point,” he scratched his beard, “is that I need redemption.”

“What?” I laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

“I never joke, Mia.”

“Whatever. Asshole.” I turned and made several more steps toward the gaggle of Spiros at the top of the stairs.

“Redemption is the key. With it, I can buy back a life.” King moved in front of me, blocking my exit. “The key to the Artifact, the key to breaking Hagne’s curse is there.” He placed his hand over my heart. “I felt it when I was digging around inside you.”

I shook my head. “I don’t—don’t understand.”

“The Seers hold the key to the Artifact, and unlocking it will give me back what I lost: a life.”

I frowned. Was he saying that I could bring him back?

“Yes,” he said, answering my thoughts. “I learned long after her death that Hagne bound the curse to an ancient stone, a Seer relic she always carried with her.” He explained that all curses had to be tied to a counterbalance of sorts. It was like the yin and yang concept. “And she bound the key to her bloodline. Initially, I thought it might be a word or a phrase safely hidden away inside your minds. But Hagne was determined never to let me find it, so she put it in the one place she thought I would never gain access.”

Our hearts. I suppose it made sense given Hagne thought Draco to be incapable of winning anyone’s heart, but who the hell cared?

“I care,” he replied, once again listening to my thoughts. “You saw me for who I truly am. Yet you did not stop caring for me, wanting me.”

I laughed hysterically, doubling over at the waist.

“What is so funny?” he asked.

“Oh. Oh.” I could barely catch my breath. “You. You are funny, King. Not to mention this whole fucking situation.”

“I do not follow.” He crossed his arms, still behaving like the calm, collected man that he wanted the outside world to see. But I knew better. He was a dangerous villain.

“You need me to make the Artifact work.” I hit my stomach. “It’s a Greek tragedy at its finest.”

“I think you’ve lost your mind.”

I pointed at him. “Yep! That’s right! So have you. And I’ll tell you what else: there’s no way in hell I’ll ever trust you or lift a finger for you. You took everything from me, King.” He might as well just kill me right then and there and end his goddamned curse. In fact, why didn’t he? I was the last Seer. He could have his peace right now with one flick of his wrist.

“Do not be ridiculous, Mia. I do not wish to kill you, and I meant it.” King looked up toward the ceiling, then back at me. “I will use the Artifact to bring back your brother.”

Huh? “You’re not making any sense.”

“The Artifact will give back one life. Just one.”

“Any life?” Then I assumed he wanted to bring back Hagne so he could get his revenge and kill her all over again.

“No. You are mistaken, Mia. I forgave Hagne a long time ago.”

“You expect me to believe that you’ve given up the one thing you’ve been after all these years?” I asked, not buying a word of it.

“She was mad from all her witchery. She made my brother mad, too. What I wanted was another chance. I wanted to take back what was stolen from me. However, if the curse is lifted, and I do not take the life the Artifact offers me, I will die. That’s good enough for me.”

“You’re joking.” I blinked. “Now you expect me to believe that you want to die? And you gave up getting revenge on Hagne? And that you’d let Justin come back in your place?” He was madder than me if he thought I’d buy that story.

“Yes. That is exactly right. I’ve been alive, Mia, for over three thousand years. I have finally made my peace with my demons. I am ready to sacrifice everything I’ve worked for and give you back your brother. All you need to give in return is redemption.”

Redemption?

He nodded. “But the redemption must be genuine. You must know everything—my sins, my demons, my goodness. Otherwise, the Artifact will not work.”

Holy crap. He’d been trying to show me who he truly was, just hoping I might still see something worth caring for? Some kernel of goodness? Something to…

“You’re asking me to…love you?” He was mad. Mad.

“I suppose I am.”

Oh Lord. I gasped and covered my mouth. I finally understood his insistence to have me read his journal and see his memories. All along, he’d wanted me to see the truth, the evil, the horrors of his existence, so that I might understand and accept him anyway. Scars, beauty, pain, and all.

“You killed my brother!”

“No,” he said calmly, “Vaughn killed your brother. And your brother made his own choices, free from any influence of mine.”

“Bullshit! If I hadn’t been locked up in that basement, I would never have convinced Vaughn the truth about the Artifact.”

“If your brother hadn’t made a deal with the devil and tried to steal his woman, he would never have been in that situation to begin with.”

Yes, Justin’s choices had set the wheels in motion for everything, including my meeting King. But that didn’t mean Justin deserved to die.

“No. Of course not,” he said, once again reading my thoughts. “But do you not see?” He stepped in a bit closer. “Justin finding the Artifact. Vaughn being the catalyst for the events that led you, the key, to finding me. It was all meant to be.”

Was it really? Because I couldn’t believe that this horror was my destiny. Or Justin’s.

“Mia.” King slipped his hand to the back of my neck and stared down at me. “Please.”

I paused to think it over, but I couldn’t do it. I only saw the man who’d done terrible things to the people I loved. I saw only the pain he’d caused me.

Yes, a part of me also now understood him, too. I’d walked a mile in his shoes. I now understood how easily, given the right circumstances, one’s soul could be corrupted. Hell, I’d plotted to kill two people! And now, I was dead set on making at least one of those lives end.

“I’m asking for a simple trade. Your love for Justin’s life. It is the only way, Mia, for everything to be set right again, for everyone to get back what was taken.”

I gazed into those cold, gray eyes, searching for the right answer, but the only one that came to me was one of hate. I filled my lungs with ocean air and gritted my teeth. For Justin. For Justin. For—

No, Mia. This needs to end. And even if you brought Justin back, he’d only suffer. Because I wouldn’t be able to bring back Jamie or that baby. Justin would only come back as the madman filled with grief he was when he’d left. Yes, perhaps with time, he might heal, but it was a moot point; I could never give King the redemption he needed.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t forgive you. I can’t give you redemption. I can only offer hate.” You’ve destroyed the one thing I loved most in this world, and you destroyed who I am. There is no coming back for me, and there’ll be no coming back for you. You are not my king. I will never be your queen. You are nothing to me.

King’s cold eyes didn’t flinch. He said nothing.

I walked out of that place, feeling his eyes on me every step of the way. But I ignored him. He was invisible to me now. And there was no going back.

EPILOGUE

A few days later, I’d been through paperwork hell, but I’d made it. Back to San Francisco, back to my parents, and back to face the bottomless pit of anguish that awaited me. Oddly enough, I’d cherished those days—the calm before the storm. The time alone had given me the space to reflect on the events, on King, and on the change that had occurred inside my heart. Where light once existed, only darkness reigned. Where hope once flourished, despair lived. But unlike King, I knew I still had a chance at redemption. If I could somehow manage to let go of my hate, my need to punish Vaughn, my wounds might heal with time. And so might those of my parents. I hoped. Because when I arrived at their home, the look on their faces told me that someone had already shared the tragic news—Justin was gone—and they might never recover.

I rushed to my mother and father, who sat on their couch, surrounded by Becca, her mother, and my aunt and uncle from Los Angeles who we barely ever saw apart from holidays.

“What’s going on?” I asked, but already knew.

Everyone’s heads snapped up.

“Mia, where have you been?” Becca asked.

“It’s a long story, but I lost my cell phone and—”

“Oh, thank God, you’re all right. We were so worried…” My mother’s words faded into a heart-wrenching sob. “Justin is dead,” she hiccupped, sopping up her tears with a wrinkled tissue.

I sank down on my knees in front of my parents, crippled by their pain. Deep purple swirled around them like a giant tornado.

Oh Lord.

“He killed himself,” my mother cried. “The guilt over what happened to his team was too much.”

“What?” No. That wasn’t what happened. Not even close. “Who told you that?”

“The people from the embassy in Mexico called,” said Becca, who stood to the side of the room, her eyes red and puffy.

The embassy? It was probably one of Vaughn’s cronies.

“We tried to reach you, but—”

“Did you talk to him?” my father asked. “Did you see him before he…?”

I thought of how I’d been there, watching Justin’s final moments, but couldn’t help him. And the look of sadness on his face after he’d died and come to see me, begging to bring him back.

“I-I-I…” I bit my tongue and reached to hug my mother. I looked toward the ceiling and rocked her in my arms. This was too much to bear. Even for me.

Oh Lord. Please forgive me for what I’m about to do. It was selfish and cold. It was the wrong choice, and I knew it. But I was no longer the good, caring person I once was. Because if I was, I would let Justin lie in peace where his pain couldn’t hurt him anymore.

“There’s been a mistake,” I said. “I just talked to him. He’s not dead.”

Fine, King. You win. Deal.

I felt a wave of tingles spark over my “K” tattoo.

To be continued…

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

Hi All!

Well…what can I say? I do love my cliffhangers, and trilogies are the perfect place to have them. The anxiety and suspense have a definitive end in sight. But I want to thank those of you who have given my non-snarky work a chance. I love, love, love to joke, but it’s so much fun to play evil badass, too!

KING OF ME is scheduled to be written summer 2014 and released before the holidays. As it will also be an Indie title (no pre-sales!) be sure to sign up for my mailing list or monitor my FB/Twitter feeds for release date news.

And, last but not least, if you enjoyed this story and took the time to leave a review, please be sure to drop me a note (on FB or mimi@mimijean.net). I have some super-sexy, signed book marks just for you! (These are NOT the ones on my page for general giveaways, but are of a shirtless, ten-packed King. Yummmm!).

HAPPY READING!

Mimi Jean

Acknowledgements:

As always, the kudos must go where kudos are deserved: to my friends, family, and fans who support my crazy dream, beta read, cheer for me, and occasionally bring me a salad so that I don’t die of poor nutrition. Thank you, ALL! (You KNOW who you are!)

KING OF ME (Book 3 of the King Trilogy)

Coming Late 2014!

Don’t miss new release updates! Sign up for Mimi Jean’s mailing list:

www.mimijean.net

FATE BOOK, Available now!

FATE BOOK 2, coming Dec. 2014!

Dakota Dane is about to tell a lie she’ll wish she hadn’t. Because her lie is dangerous, sexy, and just showed up on campus, angry as hell and looking for her…

Ugly duckling Dakota Dane has a new boyfriend. He’s male-model gorgeous, built to perfection, wealthy, and smart. He is also a lie. As in, 100% fabricated. Does it matter that Dakota has a perfectly good reason for making him up? Not really. Not when Dakota’s made-up boyfriend shows up in the flesh.

So is she crazy? All signs point to maybe. But the walking, talking enigma with the deadly vibe isn’t about to give her any answers or let her out of his sight. And with college just around the corner, Dakota fears her dreams of a bright future have just collided with a dark rabbit hole…

~~

FATE BOOK EXCERPT

Lord. Whoever had been on the other end of that phone was coming to my room. I had to get out of there. Because as much as I loved believing in miracles, those didn’t exist, which meant this guy was some psychopathic stalker, some frigging lunatic who’d convinced everyone he was my boyfriend.

I slipped from the covers and immediately had to brace myself on the edge of the hospital bed. My head pulsed with painful, dizzying jabs. I slowly stood upright and willed myself steady. My ribs and hip were sore, but I’d survive. That was, if I got the heck out of there.

I blew out a breath and wobbled to the clear plastic bag with my belongings hanging on the wall. I had to find my mother. I had to warn her. What if this guy showed up and tried something?

I slipped on my jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers, not bothering with the other stuff. I grabbed my phone and purse and tiptoed to the door.

I poked my head out, hoping to spot my mother doing rounds, but instead I saw—

The breath whooshed from my lungs. Santiago?

Cue slow motion and avalanche of conflicting, irrational thoughts accompanied by an imminent panic attack.

My stomach and heart squeezed into a brick and then dropped through the center of my body.

Lord, help me.

Because the man I’d invented—correction—the gorgeous man I’d stolen a picture of, stood twenty feet away, speaking to my mother, wearing low-slung faded jeans and a fitted white, button-down shirt.

I stared in wonderment while my eyes infused with his image and branded itself on my brain. He was lust, rock star, tough guy, jock, Prince Charming, and misfit rolled into one dangerous, rugged, well-groomed package. He sent my female brain into a tailspin.

I’ve lost my mind. That gorgeous man is not standing there. That’s not possible!

I willed my heavy feet to move, but my eyes remained glued to him. He was tall—around six three or six four—and, just like in his photo, built like a lean, mean predatory animal with broad shoulders and powerful-looking…everything. Especially those arms. And those legs. And those…yep. Everything. To boot, he stood with the sort of confidence that gave me the distinct impression he really might be deadly. And ate his meat raw. Possibly still squealing.

Santiago, who towered over my mother, leaned down and hugged her. Then my mother said something, and they laughed like old friends.

What? He hugged my mother? What was happening? Did she know him? Was the universe punishing me for lying? If it was, it was totally working. I’d never, ever lie again. This time, I mean it, Santa.

BUY LINKS:

http://www.mimijean.net/fate_book.html

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

When San Francisco native, Mimi Jean, went on an adventure as an exchange student to Mexico City, she never imagined the journey would lead to writing Romance. But one MBA, one sexy husband, and two rowdy kids later, Mimi would trade in 15 years of corporate life for vampires, deities, and snarky humor.

She continues to hope that her books will inspire a leather pants comeback (for men) and that she might make you laugh when you need it most.

She also enjoys interacting with her fans (especially if they’re batshit crazy). You can always find her chatting away on Facebook, Twitter, or saying many naughty words on her show MAN CANDY on Radioslot.com!

You can learn more at:

www.mimijean.net
twitter.com/MimiJeanRomance
facebook.com/MimiJeanPamfiloff
mailto: mimi@mimijean.net

Table of Contents

- Title Page

- KING FOR A DAY

- Just remember, mean people suck and ebook piracy is NOT a victimless crime. Just ask us working moms! Please buy our books, don’t steal them or share illegally (or be a sucky mean person). This author does not authorize ANY “free downloads” or share sites to distribute her books. Ever. And for those who bought the book…muchas thank yous! You rock.

- Copyright © 2014 by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
- Table of Contents
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- EPILOGUE
- NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
- Acknowledgements:
- KING OF ME (Book 3 of the King Trilogy)
- FATE BOOK, Available now!
- About the Author