King for a Day by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
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 whil
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 moo
“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?