King of Me (The King Trilogy #3)(54)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

I nodded solemnly, and she disappeared into her room.

Alone again, I slid my laptop from the coffee table and opened it up. I clicked on my email and glanced at the message I’d received from King the day after I’d left Crete. It simply said, “You are safe now.”

He didn’t have to explain what that meant, because I knew.

When I’d woken up in Crete, his body stretched out by my side, all I saw was blood pouring from my neck. I screamed. I couldn’t stop screaming. It was as if my brain had unfinished business, and no matter how hard I tried, it couldn’t stop seeing what it wanted: me dying, blood everywhere.

It had taken several hours for King to calm me down with heavy sedatives, and when he did, all I saw were memories of him, the red light circling his body and pouring from his dark eyes as he tried to stab me in Athens. All I could hear was his voice as he tied me up and told me he was going to break me. All I could feel were his hands on me as he ripped away my clothes, intent on violating me.

“I can’t make it stop,” I’d screamed to him, wanting to claw out my own eyes. “Why is this happening?”

I remembered the sound of his deep voice. Sorrow. As if his entire body was saturated with it. “I do not know. However, I must leave within the hour to attend to urgent business. You will remain here in the compound with Ypirétria.”

I said nothing. Not because I didn’t care, but because my mind had been filled with so many horrible images and feelings, there was no space left for anything else.

Then after he’d left, I could breathe again. The images stopped. The living nightmares dissolved. I knew, without a doubt, that being near him was the trigger.

And it crushed my heart.

After thousands of years of his suffering, the curse had finally been broken, and I’d miraculously escaped death for a third time. But he was like poison to me.

The worst blows, however, were yet to come.

Later, Ypirétria had cleaned me up and fed me. I arranged for a ticket home, knowing my parents needed me there.

When the car for the airport pulled up, Ypirétria came running after me as I got inside. “Vasílissa!” That meant “queen.” We really needed to start using our names.

I looked at the cell phone in her hand and took it. “Hello?”

“You are leaving.” King’s voice was cold and stark.

“I have to go home. They need me.”

“Did the nightmares stop?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m okay now.”

“Good.” His question made me start to wonder.

“Did you do something?”

“I left,” he said.

Shit. So he is the trigger. “What does all this mean, King? What happened to me?”

A long moment passed. “Miss Turner, I have very pressing business to attend to. I cannot waste valuable time discussing topics that have little impact on the present or future.”

I was back to being “Miss Turner,” which meant he wanted distance between us. I felt my heart crack wide open.

I swallowed back my tears and lifted my chin. “I have to go; the driver is waiting.”

“Keep the phone. In case I need to reach you. And you will take my private plane home—it is waiting for you at the airport.”

“Thanks, but I already have a ticket.” I was about to hang up before I started screaming or crying or something.

“Miss Turner, you will do as you are told.”

I felt speechless. I couldn’t believe King wanted our relationship to return to this—him acting as if I was his employee.

He added, “The 10 Club is being dealt with, but until then, you must stay out of sight.”

“What about the Spiros?” I asked, unsure if I cared any longer about them or anything.

“They will be dealt with as well. All of them.”

“They’ve already suffered enough. Just leave them—”

“Goodbye, Miss Turner.” The call ended, and I didn’t bother to dial him back. What was the point? King now had what he wanted: his curse lifted and his life back. Nevertheless, he’d gone back to being good old King. Not the man I’d fallen for or the out-of-control monster, but the man I’d first met who was somewhere in between.

Maybe some things couldn’t be undone. Maybe his soul had been through too much to go back to being the king of Minoa.

I’d arrived the next morning in San Francisco, feeling like there was absolutely nothing left of me. The journey had been so incredibly emotional and painful. However, fate wasn’t done with me yet.

From the moment I’d left Crete, I began to notice I no longer saw lights or felt things. My Seer gift was gone.

Completely gone.

My only clue to the reason why would later come in my nightmares—new nightmares. I was in that auditorium where Callias beheaded King, standing before those old Seer women. I begged them for my life, knowing that after everything I’d done wrong, I didn’t deserve it.

“Nothing is without a price, Mia,” said the old woman. “If you wish to return, something must be sacrificed.”

“Meaning what?”

“You must leave all of your power here. You must give up your gifts.”

That meant I would never have the chance to “see” Justin and save him. But leaving my parents to deal with my death, too? It would break them. In the end, though, it was really a decision between returning without my gifts, or nothing at all. I chose to live.

But you’re not really living, are you?

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” Becca stood in the doorway, wearing strappy heels, tight jeans, and a red silky top. Her brown hair was wound up on top of her head in a giant knot.

“I’m sure.”

Becca took a little purple card from her pocket and dropped it on the coffee table. “There’s a pass. In case you change your mind.”

“Have fun.”

Becca disappeared out the door, and I sat there staring at my laptop screen. I closed my eyes and flung my head back on the couch. Honestly, the only thing I wanted was to feel nothing.

Whiskey.

Yes, great choice.

I got up from the couch and dug through Becca’s cupboards, finding only a bottle of white wine. “Shit, Becca. Really?”

I looked down at my ratty tee shirt and sweats and thought it over. You can do this, Mia. You can pretend for one night that you’re not dead inside. Not to mention, they’d have real alcohol at the club.

~~~

An hour later, I found myself walking past a long line of stylishly dressed people toward the entrance of the dance club. The bouncer, a large man with a shaved head, wearing a red tee and jeans, looked me over. I wore a short, backless black dress I’d borrowed from Becca’s closet and red Manolo heels. I had my blonde hair pulled back into a sleek bun at the nape of my neck and added gold hoop earrings. I’d also managed to throw on a little mascara and shimmery pink gloss. I didn’t feel human, but I looked like one again.