King’s (The King Trilogy #1)(30)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

When King noticed I hadn’t exited the elevator, he reached inside and pulled me out by the hand. I stumbled and barely kept from falling. He dragged me down another hallway with a decorum similar to the lobby’s rich, dark colors—deep reds, purples, and chocolate browns. Silk tapestries, lavish antique armchairs, beveled mirrors, and oil paintings of long-gone aristocrats from the days of lace and velvet gave the entire place the feel of having walked back in time.

We entered the suite, and it was no different. King closed the door after me, and I stood in the entry, cautiously watching him walk to the table next to the large bed. He opened a bottle of scotch, poured a tall glass, and held it out for me.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t move.

“Take it, Mia. You’ll need it. Trust me.”

Without removing my eyes from the man, I walked over and took the glass.

“Sit.” He pointed to the plush eggplant-colored couch behind me.

“I don’t want to sit.”

“Sit!” he barked.

I glared at him. “How long are you planning to do this?”

“What? You’re not enjoying the way I treat you?”

I took a sip of the scotch and savored its smoky sweetness. Well, if I was going to die, at least I’d go out with one good memory.

“Not particularly,” I said.

He bobbed his head and then removed his coat, leaving on his starched white shirt and black silk tie. “I should kill you for disobeying me, Mia.” He laid his coat on the bed and loosened his tie, his piercing gray eyes watching me intently. “But I still need you. So I think a punishment is in order.” He tossed the tie onto the bed and unbuttoned the top of his shirt.

My hand began to tremble violently, remembering the dream I’d had when he’d said he wanted to break me.

I swallowed, set my glass down on the small table beside the couch, and sat. My mind suddenly flooded with the images from my dream. I looked down at my feet, my head spinning. What was I going to do? This wasn’t a dream, and I didn’t want him to touch me.

“Mia, what do you suggest?” He sat on the edge of the bed, legs open, hands laced together as he leaned in, elbows perched on his thighs in a stately way.

I didn’t respond.

“Look at me when I speak to you,” he snarled.

I ignored his command, but it took every ounce of willpower I had. “How did you find me?”

“I used the mark on your wrist.”

My head snapped up. Holy shit. We really were connected? But how could a tattoo do that? “You’re a witch, aren’t you?”

He frowned. “I believe the correct term is warlock, but no. Warlocks are fictional.”

“Then what are you? A demon? A creature from another world?”

King laughed into the air, and it was a beautiful laugh. Beautiful and wicked, just like the man. “I think you read too many silly books, Mia.” He stood, walked over to the table, and poured himself a drink, giving me his back. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miss Turner, but there are only two types of people in this world: living or dead. I’m afraid there isn’t much in between.”

“But you just said you found me using this.” I pointed to my wrist.

He turned and raised his glass to me. “That I did.”

“Then what are you?”

“I am a man who acquires things I find useful: people, rare artifacts, wealth, and,” he paused and took a sip, “seemingly impossible abilities that allow me to get what I want.”

I took that as code for some sort of voodoo. I didn’t believe in such things, but when you run out of obvious, rational answers, your mind starts to make leaps. “You mean you put a spell on me?”

The corner of his seductive mouth curled. “Spells are for children’s fairytales. I acquire power, or more accurately stated, I obtain ways to channel it and use it to my advantage.”

I reached for my glass and took a sip. A really, really big sip. Okay, it was a gulp.

“Don’t look so shocked, Miss Turner. You of all people—a Seer of Light—should understand that there are forces in this world beyond our comprehension. It’s perfectly plausible that someone with a great amount of determination could learn to harness these forces, just as I’ve harnessed you and your special abilities.”

Was that how he saw what he was doing to me? I was like the sun or the wind? Or perhaps he saw me more like a beast of burden in need of a yoke and a master.

“Is that why you want this Artifact?” I asked. “Does it do something special?”

A bit of joy flickered in his ash-colored eyes. “I do, in fact, want the Artifact for this reason.”

“What does it do?”

“This is no concern of yours.”

“It is if you’re using me and my brother to find it.”

“Your only task is to lead me to it, Mia. That’s why you were brought to me. That is why you still live and breathe even though you’ve defied me.”

“What do you mean, ‘brought to you’?”

“You don’t think our meeting was a coincidence, do you?”

“My brother went missing; I came looking for you,” I argued.

“True; however, I am the destined owner of the Artifact. It was fate that brought you to me. You were the crumb it wanted me to follow.”

Although his words sounded like that of a madman, I now fully understood why King thought of me as his property. And it was why he’d felt he had the right to dictate every aspect of my life. It was why he felt he had the right to do that mind-control thing and tattoo my body.

But he didn’t own me. I was not King’s, and I never would be.

I stared down at the black “K” on my wrist, trying to figure out some possible way to end this. It was no longer just about finding Justin, but about saving myself, too. It was also about saving my family.

“You can feel it, can you not, Miss Turner? The mark on your wrist tingling when I speak the truth.”

I did feel a slight prickly sensation, but I had no idea what it meant. “No, I don’t. I only feel the need to have it removed.”

“The tattoo?”

I nodded.

“Why would you want that?”

I glared at him.

He ran his hand over his perfectly combed, black hair, messing it up. “I got lucky that day, you know.”

“What day?”

“That day in Mexico City. I got lucky. Mack and I were already there, wrapping up a little acquisition. When you didn’t show up for your connecting flight, I had Mack ask around while I made some calls. He happened to hear two passengers talking about a young American woman who’d been pulled out of line.”