King for a Day (The King Trilogy #2)(45)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

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 f**king 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.