King’s (The King Trilogy #1)(31)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

I felt my blood pressure drop. If King had arrived just a few minutes later, my life would have been drastically different at this moment. I suddenly realized I’d never thanked King for that night, and part of me still wanted to, even though I knew that wasn’t the reason he was telling me this story. He was trying to explain why he’d marked me. It was all about protecting me—his property—in his eyes.

I sighed. “And then you killed them?”

He grinned. “No. Guzman killed his people. Of course, the suggestion came from me.”

“Was it a suggestion he couldn’t ignore?” If King could control me, then why not others?

He took a sip from his glass. His lips were shiny and wet with scotch. I tried not to look, but a part of me, the dark part, still wanted what I’d felt and enjoyed in that dream. Hard, hot, sinful…

King stared back, keenly aware of how his mouth had captivated my attention. His own lips twitched like they had an itch he wanted to scratch. “Yes, Miss Turner.” King’s voice was quiet and gravelly.

I snapped out of it and went back to looking at his jewel-like eyes. Not sure it helped much. “Huh?”

He smiled, and it was that charming, devilish smile. “I said, ‘yes.’ The suggestion was one that Guzman couldn’t ignore.”

“How did you even know him?”

He shrugged. “A man with my particular interests in the rare and unusual must have a vast network of eyes always on the lookout. You’d be surprised what turns up in airports.” He sipped his scotch. “But Guzman was a vermin and untrustworthy. He deserved to die.”

“Oh.” I nodded slowly and polished off my drink. So those people had been murdered because of me. I didn’t know what to think other than I’d expected to feel a twinge of remorse but didn’t. Did that make me coldhearted and vengeful?

“You are not the first person, Miss Turner, who he laid his hands on. But you now bear the distinction of being the last.”

I contemplated his words, the facts he’d shared, and tried to believe the unbelievable. Still, it all felt like a bad, bad dream, and at any moment, I’d wake up. Justin would be calling me from Mexico, laughing as he told me about another button he’d found.

“So, are you ready?” King asked.

His imposing form rose from the edge of the bed, and he unbuttoned his shirt a little further.

“Ready for what?” I asked.

His head dipped and speared me with those predatory eyes. “Your punishment.”

My pulse immediately raced. “You’re joking, right?”

He began rolling up his left sleeve. “You might want to start humming one of those Beatles’ songs you like so much.”

“What are you doing?” My eyes searched for any sign he was joking.

He took a step closer, and I glanced at that strange tattoo on his forearm. “I’m going to give you a choice, Miss Turner. Pain or pleasure. Of course, the pleasure will be all mine.”

Huh? I leaned as far back as I could on the couch, but I was cornered with nowhere to go. Was he really going to do this? “I-I don’t understand.”

He took another step. He was so close, he could reach down and snap my neck if he wanted.

“We had a deal, Miss Turner.” He rolled up his right sleeve. “I would find your brother, and you would work for me indefinitely. You would obey me. You wouldn’t ask questions. So far, you’ve broken every part of our bargain.”

I eyed the glass in my hand. I could smash it in his face and get away. “You didn’t find my brother, so we’re even.”

He lifted his dark silky brows. “He’s right here in Edinburgh, as is the Artifact. You led me right to it, just as I suspected you might.”

I shook my whirling head. I couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t think straight. “That can’t be right. I got on the train. I didn’t know—”

“There are no coincidences in this game, Miss Turner. Now answer my question: pain or pleasure?”

I blinked. Was he really going to make me choose?

I had to act quickly. I jumped up and swung at his face with my glass. He caught my wrist in midair. I dropped the tumbler and shrieked in agony. His palm covered the brand on my wrist.

A sinister expression flickered in his beautiful silver eyes. “Then I will choose for you: pleasure.”

He squeezed my wrist and held me against his body. I felt a powerful burst of agonizing pain course through my veins. I felt like I was being cut and shredded from the inside out. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t move my mouth or form a sound.

King whispered in my ear, “This is only a taste of me.”

It was then that I realized his question had been a trick. I was getting pain either way, and King would enjoy every bit of it.

“Bastard,” I managed to eke out before the room turned dark.

~ ~ ~

The next morning, I stretched my sore body in the soft silky sheets and groaned. Everything touching my skin felt so soothing, so warm, so luxurious.

“Mmmm…” I moaned and flipped onto my stomach. I smiled as the smell of warm bread and fresh coffee filled my nose. I yawned and stretched out my arms to enjoy the texture of the cool sheets at my side, but instead, I found warmth. My fingertips probed and slid. Smooth, firm skin greeted my touch.

Huh? I flattened my palm and reached a little further. I found a round pectoral muscle and soft little pebble of a man’s nipple.

“Shit!” I flipped over and sat up. King was lying next to me with his eyes closed, his plump, gorgeous lips relaxed. Dark lashes fanned across his upper cheeks, and his black stubble was a little thicker than usual. The white sheet was gathered around his nether region, but his chest, stomach, and lower abdomen were fully exposed.

What is he doing in bed with me? Naked, no less? As I thought this, my eyes were instantly drawn to the elaborate, black tribal tattoo that started at his collarbone and covered half of his pectoral muscles. It reminded me of those large Egyptian collars made of stone and metal beads that fanned around the neck to form a semicircle above one’s chest. Toward the center of the design, there was a small square filled with symbols, as though his tattooed necklace had a large pendent. It was beautiful.

My gaze took in the rest of the scenery filled with ripple after ripple of hard, menacing muscles all the way down to where a thin line of black hair, starting just beneath his belly button, disappeared underneath the sheet.

I sighed appreciatively. Physically, the man was an Adonis. Hard and lean. Strong and rough. Even the swells of his biceps and the taper of his neck to his shoulders were perfect.