King of Me (The King Trilogy #3)(53)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

My mind abruptly breaks away from this glimpse into paradise and slams full speed into a place I know all too well. Hate. Rage. Revenge. I may no longer be cursed, but I am still a product of my time, not above violence.

“I will not kill you, Stefanos; I will rip you apart, piece by piece.”

He says nothing and lifts his chin. The man knows it is no use to run from someone like me. I am the man who can find anything or anyone.

I look down at Mia and see the light slip from her eyes. I do not want to share this moment, her last breath, with anyone. I want it to belong to me. And only me.

“Leave! I will deal with you later,” I yell.

Stefanos and his brother exit the room, the room I built for Mia, my queen. A room that I’d intended to spend long, slow nights making love to her. This was to be her palace, the place where we would rewrite our story.

But there will be none of that.

Her eyes gently close and a subtle smile curls her soft lips. I do not want her to go. I am not ready to let her die. “Mia, I will bring you back.”

Gods be cursed. I am King. I possess an ancient arsenal of the most powerful objects known to man. I have lived over three thousand years. I anticipate every outcome and prepare accordingly. Yet this…. I shake my head, cradling Mia’s head.

I’d given her a ring to ensure nothing like this ever happened. Why did she remove it?

This is the moment that my mind clicks. My darkness was in control these past days, and I remember very little. However, I know Mia would not remove her ring—a ring I spent three hundred years hunting down for her. A ring made from a stone plucked from the crown of Hammurabi.

I think for a moment, the clock ticking away, her soul slipping from her body.

He took it from her.

I slide my hand into the pocket of my black jeans and feel a small lump. Fucking hell! I pull it out and slide it on her finger.

My goddamned hands are shaking. “Please, please come back, Mia. Please return.” The ring will only function if worn at the time of death. Not after.

I place my ear over her heart and listen. There is no sound. No heart, no breath.

I shake her by the shoulders, knowing that her soul has not yet traveled far. “Use your power to come back, Mia! You are a seer. See the life waiting for you!”

I wait, but she doesn’t move.

I grit my teeth and scream toward the sky. All this wealth, all this power…I have everything one man can possibly want, but I failed at obtaining the one thing in this world I need. Her. The hunt for the Artifact was always about that. It was always about us being together.

I lie down next to Mia’s now chilling body and know I can do little more than wait for a miracle.

Suddenly, Mia sits up and begins screaming with no end in sight. She yells for me to get away from her, that I am a monster.

I hang my head and think of what he, that f**king monster, has done to her—things no woman should have to endure. Things no woman can forgive.

Fuck. It is exactly as I feared; too much has passed between us, and my curse has poisoned our future.

It’s over.

If I care for Mia, even a little, I must let her go.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

One Month Later. San Francisco.

I lay on Becca’s couch staring at the bright-white ceiling of her apartment living room, sweat covering my body, my lungs barely able to keep up with my racing heart.

“Another nightmare?” Becca groaned from the doorway, just arriving home from work, which meant I’d slept through the day again. “Get off your ass, Mia. You’re coming out with me and the girls tonight.”

I rolled over and covered my head with the quilt. “I don’t feel like it.” The fact was, I could barely eat, let alone stand and bathe or get prettied up for a night out with a bunch of Becca’s obnoxiously happy friends.

Becca pulled back the blanket and glared down at me with her big brown eyes. “We have VIP passes to a new club.”

“I don’t want to go out.”

“You can’t sleep on my couch forever.”

“Try me,” I groaned and covered my face with my hands.

“Enough, Mia!” Becca barked and flicked my exposed forehead.

I sat up. “What was that for?”

My best friend Becca was one of those women who had a sweet round face and wide innocent eyes that made you want to smile. But when she got angry, her pale face turned tomato red, and that meant you might want to consider fleeing. I knew because we’d been best friends since we were little girls, and I thought of her like a sister. Which was why I’d gone straight to her apartment the moment I’d arrived in San Francisco and hadn’t left, with the exception of Justin’s funeral. After everything that had happened, my parents needed their grieving space and so did I.

“Mia,” she sighed, “I haven’t wanted to say anything because I know you need time—time that I’m more than happy to give you. But sooner or later, you’re going to have to try to pick yourself up. Justin wouldn’t have wanted you to spend the rest of your life on my couch, crying.”

I knew she was right, but what she didn’t know was the full story. It had been a little over three weeks since we’d put Justin to rest, but I was nowhere near ready to face the toxic emotional cloud churning beneath the surface. This wasn’t just about accepting Justin’s death, but accepting I’d lost King, too. He’d left me the moment I came back to life. He never loved me. He never cared. He had only wanted his curse lifted.

I lost them both. Both. Something I’d never thought possible. So for the moment, all I could do to hold it together was lie on Becca’s couch, sleeping.

I rubbed my stinging forehead. “You’re lucky I love you.”

She sat next to me and moved the sloppy curls from my face. “Mia, I know you’re not telling me everything that happened with King. But when you’re ready, I’m here for you.” I had told her about King—well, everything leading up to the point before I learned who King really was. A cursed king. A ghost.

She squeezed my hand, and I looked into her big brown eyes. “Thank you,” I said, “but I’m not ready to talk about it.”

She sighed. “Okay, but…” She stopped, deciding to retreat. “I’m taking a shower. Think about coming out with me.”

“But I—”

“I’m not asking you,” she said lovingly, “to stop feeling sad. I’m asking you to give yourself the night off. Will you think about it?”