King of Me (13 page)

It nearly took my breath away. I had never seen that sort of power before—one that came from deep inside a person’s soul, from sheer conviction, but it was more hypnotic than anything I’d ever witnessed.

He took his seat, turned his vivid blue eyes back to me, and then gave me a nod and a smile. I stood there for a moment in awe before Mela appeared and poked me in the arm. “Mistress, put the basket down.”

“Oh. Sorry.” I did my part and quickly turned to hightail it out of there before I provoked any more incidents. Almost to the furthest edge of the plaza, I flashed a glance over my shoulder at King. His fierce gaze was still on me, and my body instantly reacted—weak knees, sensual heat and tingles—the whole sinful nine yards. I felt more in danger with this King than I ever had with the other. This man had the power to get inside my heart.

~~~

I spent the rest of the day hiding out in my chamber, waiting for King to return and fully expecting him to give me a tongue-lashing of epic proportions for messing up his harvest ceremony.

Instead, just after sunset, Mela appeared with three other ladies, holding a new clean blue dress and a multitude of hairpins.

“Please don’t tell me I have to go bottomless to a dinner party,” I said.

“No, mistress,” she said, not getting my joke, “the king has requested you dine in his chamber tonight.”

“Alone?” I swallowed.

“Yes.” She flashed a confused look at me. Clearly she thought we’d already slept together. “This is his request.”

I nodded slowly. “Oh. Okay.” This couldn’t be avoided, anyway. He’d had almost an entire day to digest the bad news and think up some sort of a solution. If there was one.

Yes, I’m sure that’s what he wants. To talk. Nothing more.

Within the hour, I was once again bathed, coiffed, and my teeth were scrubbed to a pristine shine, but I procrastinated leaving the room.

“You are ready, mistress,” Mela said.

I sat at the edge of the bed. “I think I need to scrub my teeth again.”

“No. I assure you, three times is more than sufficient, and the king does not appreciate being kept waiting.”

I blew out a breath and nodded.

“Are you all right, mistress?”

My body felt like it had been wound up in giant knots, and my heart raced at a million miles per hour. Images of King staring at my bare breasts, that sinful pleased look in his eyes, made me feel heated up all over again. I wanted him, and I wanted to continue the nonverbal conversation we’d started earlier. The problem? My liking him in any way, shape or form would not be a smart idea. There was no future in it. Especially if I prevented him from becoming cursed. The man would hopefully live out his life, grow old, and die in this time as he should. I, on the other hand, hoped to get back home to a new, evil-King-free life.

“Yes. I’m good. Just a little tired, I guess.” I stood and walked as slowly as I could out the door to his chamber.

When I entered, there were only a few oil lamps lit. King lay with eyes closed in his steaming tub of water, his bare, muscular chest gleaming with drops of water.

I was about to turn and leave when he spoke. “Come in and sit.”

He hadn’t opened his eyes or looked at me.

“Okay.” I looked around the room. Against the wall, there was a table with enough food to feed ten men. I sat and waited, trying to keep calm. If I’d found it hard to keep my wits around the evil King, this version of him was proving impossible.

“So,” I said. “Did you have time to think?”

King remained still and quiet, his muscular arms extended across the edges of the tub.

I waited for a response, but he said nothing.

“King?”

“You sound nervous. Why don’t you join me?” he said.

I blinked. “Thank you, but I already had a bath today.”

He slowly opened his blue eyes and smiled. “Ah yes. You do not like baring your naked flesh. Exactly why is that?”

I shrugged. “It’s just not something I generally do unless I’m intimate with a person.”

He suddenly stood up and removed himself from the tub in all his naked glory. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him nude, but my feelings for him at the time felt infinitely different.

My eyes drank in every towering, lean, chiseled inch.

“Like what you see, Mia?”

My eyes snapped up to his face. This time, I didn’t want to deny it. “Yes.”

He smiled. “Good. At least you are honest.” He reached for piece of white cloth and wrapped it around his waist. “Care for some wine?” He strolled toward me, poured a glass, and offered it to me.

“Thanks.”

“So.” He sat in front of me and poured his own chalice. “I have some questions for you.”

“All right.”

He gulped down his wine and set down the empty cup. “You say you do not know how you came here to me.”

“I think it was the bracelet. But I’m not sure.”

“You also say you were running from me,” he said sharply.

“Yes,” I replied.

“But you are here to help me.”

“Yes.” I nodded.

“Why?” His gaze was steady and harsh.

“I already told you that.” I didn’t think it was fair what had been done to him.

“Yes. But there is more to our story, isn’t there?”

I nodded but stared at my glass.

“What are you not telling me?” he asked.

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

I lifted my eyes. “I can’t.”

“Cannot or will not?”

“Can’t. I don’t know how.”

“But you are my woman, yes?”

“Yes. I mean—you claimed me as yours, but we’ve never…”

“I have never lain with you,” he said, completing my sentence.

“Why are you asking me all of these questions?”

“I am not certain I believe your story.”

“Which part?” I asked. “The part about my being from the future, being yours, or your fate?”

“All three. Who is to say this is not a ploy to win me, to be my queen in Hagne’s place?”

Dammit. So stubborn.
If he didn’t buy my story, then we were all screwed. History would repeat.
Unless you do something to stop Hagne on your own
. Which I was fully prepared to do, but wouldn’t get the chance if King thought I was bonkers and had me thrown back in a cage.

“Then ask me anything.” I lifted my arm to remind him of the “K” tattoo.

“You could pretend your words.”

“You saw me jump with your own eyes,” I pointed out.

“Perhaps you knew I would catch you.”

“That’s ridiculous; I almost died.” I took a moment to catch my breath. This conversation felt useless. “You know what? Fine.” I stood up. “Don’t believe me. Go ahead and marry Hagne. Kill your brother. Enjoy your cursed life.”

“Where do you think you are going?” he asked.

I’m going to find Hagne and take care of this mess on my own.

“I thought you were stronger than this,” I said, “but I was wrong.”

“You think me weak because I do not believe your wild story?”

“I’m saying that there is nothing I can say to convince a man who refuses to accept the truth.”

He rose from the table, fury pouring from his eyes. “You will sit, Seer. Or I will have my guards tie you to that chair.”

I hesitantly sat back down. “What do you want from me?”

He poured himself another cup of wine, drank it down, and then returned his sharp gaze to me. “The truth.”

“About what?”

“Prove that you are not trying to manipulate me.”

“What do you want?” I barked.

“The truth!” He slammed his fist onto the table, causing the plates of food to jump.

“I don’t know what that is,” I yelled. “That’s the truth. I go to you for help. You claim me as your property. I find out you’re cursed and looking for a way out. You manipulate me, use me, and try to hurt me. Then poof, I’m here.”

“So you are saying you fear me. Completely.”

“Yes.”

He reached across the table and grabbed my wrist with the tattoo. “Remove your clothes.”

“What?” I said.

“Silence. Do it.”

Without giving my body permission, I rose from the table, fearing why he would ask this. Sheer panic took over as my brain began recalling the horrible memories of the future.

King’s intense blue gaze focused on my angry horrified face as I slipped the dress off my shoulder and allowed it to fall to the floor.

His eyes looked me over hungrily for several moments before he stood, gripped my wrist and leaned in. At first, I thought he might kiss my neck or touch me, but he didn’t. Instead he placed his nose at my nape and smelled me.

What the hell?

Still gripping my wrist, he whispered, “Tell me you love me. Tell me to make love to you.”

The nightmares of his private island came crashing down. I could taste the fear on my tongue.

“I love you. I want you to make love to me,” I said unwillingly.

King released my wrist and stared deeply into my eyes. I could feel his wine-scented breath on my face and hear my own heart pounding away.

I began to pray I’d find the strength to release myself from his command as I’d done once before in a state of panic.

“I believe you.” He turned and sat back down at the table. “You may get dressed.”

I blinked and then reached for my dress. The moment I was covered, my eyes became glued to a sharp knife on the table.
I’m going to kill him.

“Go ahead,” he said, also staring at the knife. “If it will make you feel better.”

“What the hell was that?” I fumed.

He poured another glass with a cool, calm, and steady hand. “I smelled the fear on you, saw it in your eyes. You really do hate me.”

“Your fucking point?”

“Emotions like that cannot be faked. You truly believed I would hurt you, which means I’ve hurt you before.”

He rose from the table and glanced at the food. “Enjoy your meal.”

He was leaving? Before I had the chance to stab him? How ungentlemanly.

“Where are you going?” I seethed, expecting him to say it was none of my goddamned business.

“I do not wish you any further distress this evening, and I have some difficult decisions to make. I will return later. Rest. You will be safe here.”

He stopped halfway out the door. “By the way, Mia. I would never take a woman against her will. But I did enjoy seeing your body. The gods will surely give the people a plentiful harvest next season.”

Completely shocked, my mouth hung open.
Who is this guy?

I sat at the table for the next hour pondering that question. More precisely, I pondered how he made me feel. Angry, overwhelmed, crazy.

I couldn’t deny that being around him was like a highly addictive narcotic I couldn’t get enough of.

And that little move of his hadn’t been simply about proving I feared him. It was also about making me trust him. He’d put me in a position where I felt exposed, where he could do anything he liked. Yet he hadn’t, and made a point of it as if he felt the need to win my trust.

Staring at the food and unable to eat, the cool breeze drifting through the open doorway finally got the best of me. I nestled into King’s bed and covered myself with the soft silky red blanket. His delicious masculine scent—a sort of citrus and musk—enveloped me, and I closed my eyes, thinking of him. This King was seductively strong and fearless. He was human, yet somehow bigger than life—utterly powerful, but kind, too. He was that part of future-King who left me breathless and speechless with his brutal honesty and beauty. That was the man who’d saved my mother. He’d held me when I felt like my life was ending. Yes, now my mind clearly saw two completely different people living inside that future version. One I hated and wanted to kill. The other was this man…

Goose bumps broke out over my body thinking of him—shirtless with that long black hair—and those vivid blue eyes. And that body. Holy Christ, did that man have abs. And thick muscled arms and legs. And…

The tension pooled between my legs, and I shook my head.
How fucked up am I?
There was no possible scenario resulting in a happy ending for me. Regardless, I couldn’t help wanting this untainted version of him. He was the entire package without the baggage.

Except…he lives in 1500 BC, g
ive or take a few centuries as I wasn’t sure about the exact year.
Care to think these feelings over?

I won’t fall for him. I just…
I sighed. He was magnetic, that was the best way to describe him.

Unable to resist the numbing oasis of sleep, I closed my eyes and tried to think of something else. An image of a perfect future popped into my mind: everyone gathered at my parents’ Victorian home on Knob Hill in San Francisco. Justin and his girlfriend, Jamie, holding their beautiful baby while sitting on that floral, overstuffed couch in the living room. Becca and her mother squabbling over some random fact about an actor they both loved. “No, he’s dating that model,” one would say. “No. They broke up,” the other would respond. Then there would be my parents sneaking kisses in the kitchen while they prepared the finishing touches on the meal. Me, well, I was there, too. Somewhere. Although, I couldn’t see any details. Maybe because I was still in ancient Minoa, beginning to wonder if I ever wanted to leave.

Could I do that to my poor parents? Because their losing a daughter would be just as bad as losing my brother. And losing us both? I shuddered. I couldn’t begin to imagine the grief.

Nevertheless, even if I wanted to go home, it might not happen. So then what? What would become of my parents?

Jesus, we’re all so screwed.

CHAPTER TEN

I didn’t know the hour, but when my eyes opened, it was because my subconscious had been poking my conscious mind in a petulant, little sister kind of way until I couldn’t ignore it.

I sat up in King’s bed. All but one oil lamp had burnt out, enough to spot King’s well-constructed frame sitting on a chair in the corner, his eyes intense and focused like an animal. All too reminiscent of the man I knew many years from now, his posture—stiff with hands clasped and elbows resting on his knees—meant he was deep in thought and not at all happy.