King of Me (The King Trilogy #3)(13)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

My mind quickly began to wander. What had the world—his world—been like? What had King been like? I tried to imagine him before Hagne’s evil had sunk its claws into his soul and turned his life into an unimaginable suffering, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t visualize King being…well, a king. Or just a man. With a heart and worries, with disappointments and triumphs, just like anyone else.

Whoever he once was and whatever he knew would soon be gone. Just like that. All to end his suffering and for “everything to be set right again, for everyone to get back what was taken,” as he’d once said.

I finished rinsing my body and shut off the water, solemnly comprehending that there would be a sacrifice on his part. A big one. And just like that, I felt my heavy mental armor eroding.

King was going to die.

Feeling like the wind had been knocked out of me, I sat on the bed and held my hands over my mouth. Evil tendencies or not, the good in him triumphed. No, it wasn’t love, but it was a start. A start to our end.

~~~

Forty minutes later on the dot, I made my way down the stairs—shaved, plucked, hair swept up into a twist, and a hint of red for my lips—in a dress that barely left room to sit, let alone breathe. My br**sts nearly spilled from the top of the black satin scallops that formed the neckline, and only a centimeter of flesh stood between me and exposing my ni**les to the world.

“You look very nice, Miss Turner,” Stefanos held out his arm, “but you are late.”

I carefully took the last step in my spiked black heels before latching on to him. “Sorry. But King ordered additional grooming for tonight.”

Stefanos raised one dark brow but did not say a word.

He walked me through the spacious living room and a side door, where a gleaming black, very large and fast-looking helicopter awaited on the cement pad. With the sun almost completely set and the sky streaked with hot pink bolts, my ride looked more like an evil black beast waiting to whisk me away to the land of sin.

I shuddered and my skin erupted with goose bumps.

“Are you all right?” asked Stefanos, probably wondering why I’d stopped moving.

I had a very bad feeling all of a sudden. It’s your nerves, Mia. Suck it up.

I flashed a glance at the sleek helicopter. The pilot wore a tux and stood at attention next to a set of small steps placed beneath the door. He quickly bowed, and it made me laugh. King wanted very badly to make me feel special tonight.

Maybe that’s why you feel nervous.

“Miss Turner?” Stefanos said. “It’s time to go.”

I took a deep breath and made my way to the black beast.

“Good evening, Miss Turner. Right this way.” The pilot gestured toward the cabin.

“Thank you.” I flashed a polite smile.

Once inside, I paused for a moment to take in the extravagant decor. I’d never been inside a helicopter, but this looked more like the executive lounge at some swanky nightclub—black leather seats surrounding a table topped with a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket. The recessed lights were slightly dimmed, and calming spa-like music piped in from the surround sound system. It actually felt larger and more spacious than King’s private jet.

“Have a lovely evening, my queen.” Stefanos dipped his head and shut the door after the pilot climbed in.

“Make yourself comfortable.” The pilot proceeded to the front cabin and shut the door behind him. The engine cranked almost immediately, but instead of a roar like I’d seen in movies, the sound was a quiet purr.

I stood there staring at the empty chairs, wondering where the real alcohol was hidden.

“We are about to depart, Miss Turner,” said the pilot over the intercom. “Please take your seat.”

I felt the floor lift beneath me straight into the air, and my stomach lurched. I definitely need whiskey.

I sat patiently for a few minutes, twisting my body toward the window to watch us make our way over the ocean. But instead of going north as I thought we would, the helicopter headed east, away from the setting sun.

I kicked off my heels to make walking a bit safer and popped open the door to the cockpit. The noise was deafening.

“Hey!” I screamed. “Where are we going?”

The pilot, a thin man with gray hair, couldn’t hear me with his headphones on, so I poked his shoulder.

He glanced at me with a startled expression.

“Sorry.” I repeated my question, and he pointed to a headset hanging on the wall. I carefully slid it over my hair. “Where are we going?”

Looking ahead, the pilot responded, “I have been instructed not to speak to you or answer your questions.”

“Seriously?”

“He does not want the surprise ruined. We’ll be at our destination in an hour. I suggest you relax and make yourself comfortable.”

Great. It was clear I wouldn’t be getting any answers from this guy. I missed Mack already. At least he spoke to me.

My gaze momentarily set on my right wrist as I thought of him. Yes, I’d worn the bracelet. I’d told myself it was because I needed something to go with the outfit, that I would never run and leave my parents to deal with the loss of two children. But truth was, it gave me comfort knowing that if things got bad, really bad, I had an option. As an added precaution, I still wore the ring King had given me. Also from King’s arsenal of powerful goodies, the giant solitaire did more than simply decorate one’s finger. It could bring a person back to life if they wore it at the time of death. Yes, I’d already used it once. Not so fun, but very handy.

“Oh, and Miss Turner?” said the pilot, just as I was about to slip off the headset. “If you prefer, there is a nice bottle of scotch in the cupboard above the sink in the back. I had to secure it so it wouldn’t break.”

King’s pulling out all the stops tonight.

“Thank you.” I slipped off the headphones.

Back inside my soundproofed luxury cubbyhole in the sky, I found my prized elixir of the nerves and poured two fingers’ worth. I couldn’t make out the distillery on the old faded label, but the golden brown liquid tasted like velvety smoke and sweet toffee. This was an expensive treat, no doubt.

I took a seat and breathed it in, using the beverage as a way to keep my mind from feeling anxious. Wherever we were going, I imagined it would be interesting. Someplace special, he’d said. The man really wanted out of his curse, so it made sense he’d be making a special effort. Hell, maybe that was why Mack had seen a change in him—not that I had. But after three-thousand-something years, King had to be going crazy. He was so, so close to seeing his suffering end.