King for a Day (The King Trilogy #2)(42)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

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 f**king 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 f**king 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.