King for a Day (The King Trilogy #2)(6)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“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 ha**ng s*x 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.