King for a Day (The King Trilogy #2)(43)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

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 na**d 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 f**king 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.