Mack (King #4) (17 page)

I entered the meticulously landscaped yard filled with vibrant flowers—violets, reds, and yellows—and approached the all-glass front door with a view of the tiled foyer and potted palms.

I reached out my hand to push the doorbell, but then thought to myself how formality and politeness were a waste of time. King had taken my life multiple times. Once in this very spot. That made us like family, right? A really, really dysfunctional family, of course.

I clamped down the lever on the door handle and pushed, not at all surprised to find it unlocked. A cocky sonofabitch like King would never bolt his front door because he’d kill anyone who had the gall to intrude. Which was why I half expected him to come rushing toward me with a giant spear or cleaver or something sharp.

Instead, I heard music, voices, and laughter coming from a room just off of the foyer.

A party?

I hit pause for a moment, thinking this through. My goal was to persuade King to not kill me and to let me help him get his brother’s life back. Would crashing his dinner party help or hinder?

Help.
He might behave more rationally if there were people around he wanted to impress. So that was that; I marched down the short hall and stopped in the doorway of the tennis-court-sized living room.
Jeez. Big enough?
Although most of the people inside, wearing tuxes and evening gowns, were crowded around the bar at the far end of the room or were pouring out through two French doors onto a patio.

There had to be at least a hundred people inside.

“What the hell are you doing here, little Seer?” said a deep, menacing voice.

I turned and looked up at the very unhappy man with the misleadingly handsome face and dark hair combed back to give him a sophisticated look. It hurt to look at King. It really did. Because all I could see was Mack.

I cleared my throat. “So. A party, huh?”

He immediately got the undertone of my criticism. His brother hadn’t even been dead twenty-four hours, and he was throwing a soiree.

“I should’ve broken your neck,” he growled.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I promised Mia that if you stayed away, I would let you live. I’d like to thank you for not staying away. Shall I kill you now, or would you like a drink first?”

“How gracious.”

He dipped his silky head of black hair, and I resisted the urge to run my fingers through its thickness, pretending it was Mack.

“It’s the least I can do since you’ve granted my wish,” he replied.

Yeah. Just try to kill me. I fucking dare you,
I thought. But instead, I said,
“I’m a bit underdressed for your party. Why don’t we go somewhere private? There’s something I need to discuss with you—a proposition I want to make—before you kill me, of course.”

“I’m afraid I can’t leave my own event—too many wolves to watch,” he said in a low voice.

I looked around the room, and that was when I noticed it. The colors. Everyone here oozed reds and black. I didn’t really know what the colors meant specifically, other than they were not good.

“Crap.” There was so much evil in this room, it nearly sent me to my knees.

“Crap indeed,” said King.

The small quartet in the corner of the room ended the current ballad and started playing a light jazzy tune. I didn’t know the song, but it was lively and joyful, despite being slow. The polar opposite of the guests in the room.

King held out his hand. “Shall we dance?”

“Dance? With you?”

“Yes. The people here are very dangerous and not without their own gifts. I’m guessing there are at least five who’ve already realized you’re not simply a regular person. And unfortunately for you, Miss Valentine, you are unclaimed property.”

“That’s Dr. Valentine, and I am no one’s property.”

He laughed and dropped his hand. “Suit yourself, but you’re in our world now. And here, if you don’t belong to someone, you’re fair game.”

Disgusting. “Fine. If dancing with you will give me time to say my piece, then let’s do it.”

He dipped his head in a suave, gentlemanly way and then held out his hand and led me to the corner of the room where the band played. We faced each other and locked hands. The man was definitely at ease in his own skin, because he moved like smooth butter sliding down warm bread. Effortless.

“Nice moves,” I said with a hint of disdain.

“Thank you. Now, what is this proposal of yours, little Seer?”

I tightened my grip on his warm hand, wishing I could cause him a little pain. But even his palms felt powerful.

“Do you know what my gift is, King?”

“Yes. It’s annoying the hell out of me and killing my only living blood.”

I shook my head.
Asshole.
“I am a healer.”

There was a moment when he broke his icy façade. He was surprised.

“You didn’t know that, did you?” I asked.

“What is your point?” he said, not answering my question.

“That you’re focusing on saving Mack’s physical form. But not his soul. He’s tormented, King. He wanted to die. He practically begged me to end his suffering because he can’t live with all of the things he’s done over his lifetime. And if you don’t believe me, then ask yourself why he had that necklace removed.”

King blinked and glanced over my shoulders. Ever the watchful eye.

“You can relate, can’t you?” I asked, but it wasn’t a question. “You were cursed, too. You probably have nightmares about all of the horrible things you’ve done.”

Hell, they coined the phrase “Draconian” in his honor.

“Again, little Seer, I ask you your point.”

“I can heal Mack. I can take away his pain so that when you bring him back, he won’t just be alive, he’ll be happy.”

He scoffed. “I think you’re exaggerating your gifts so that I won’t kill you.”

“I think you’re just looking for any excuse to kill me.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded.

Okay then. Could I prove it to him? In all honesty, I didn’t know how to use my gift, but I had to try.

I closed my eyes for a moment, swaying to the music, reaching with my mind somewhere inside me.

Nothing happened.

Try again. Try again
. Mack was counting on me.

Then an image of Mack flashed in my head, and I began to feel the warm glow of white light swirling in a tightly packed ball. Was this what healed people? It had to be.

I struggled and pushed, thinking of Mack, visualizing that ball of light traveling down one arm and flowing through my hand, through the barrier of my skin, and absorbing into King’s hand. He suddenly froze and then so did I. I felt this strange rush of something going through me and into him, our souls connected. I wasn’t just healing him, I was acting as a conduit of sorts, transferring this…whatever it was…into him. Where the white healing light came from, I could only guess, but as I drew from it, I realized it wasn’t inside me. It was…well, crap. I didn’t know. On some other plane of existence, I guessed.

Several more moments passed, and then our connection was broken by someone tapping King on the shoulder.

We both pulled away from each other, shocked and mildly disoriented.

King and I swiveled our heads to find a medium height man in a tux, with brown hair and a small scar on his right cheek.

“May I cut in?” he asked with a wolfish smile.

King looked at me, looked at the man, and then looked at me again. He then did something extremely disturbing: He slid his hands around my waist and pulled me into his tall frame, almost protectively.

“The woman is mine,” he growled. “So fuck the hell off.”

The man’s smile dropped, and I saw a look of evil hate in his eyes. “Very well. How much do you want for her?”

“She’s not for sale.”

King was protecting me?
Holy cow.

He went on, “I’m saving her for another trade. You don’t have anything I want.” King’s icy blue eyes flickered with a menacing vibe.

What in the world?
These people were really fucked up.

The man dipped his head. “We’ll see about that.”

King’s eyes were glued to the back of the man’s head like a vicious watchdog until he disappeared outside into the crowd.

“What was that?” I asked.

King snapped out of whatever zone he’d been in and looked at me. “You’re not safe here.”

I laughed. “And you care?”

He stared at me with those sky blue eyes, the planes of his handsome face filled with an unreadable distress. “Yes. I do. And if you ever tell anyone, I will deny it.”

“So it worked,” I muttered to myself, completely astonished.

King frowned, grabbed my hand, and dragged me from the room.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To my bedroom to
fuck!
” he said, nice and loud.

What the…
I tried to pull my hand away, which only provoked a sharper reaction: him throwing me over his shoulder and marching upstairs. Meanwhile the room of guests fell into a swarming sound of whispers, gasps, and laughter. At our expense, obviously.

Ohmygod. Ohmygod. What is happening?
I had to think fast. Clearly King had lost his goddamned mind! Something must’ve gone wrong when I used my gift!

We entered a room, and he slammed a set of double doors shut, locked them, and then tossed me down onto a large bed.

“What are you doing!” I yelled.

“What the fuck do you think?” he yelled back and then leaned in, placing his index finger to his mouth to shush me.

Screw that!
I lunged off the bed to the side and tried to skirt around him. Faster than my eyes could register, he caught me and threw me back down again.

“Woman,” he hissed, “calm the fuck down. They need to believe you are mine. Understand?”

Lightbulb. “So you’re not going to rape me?”

He frowned, blatantly offended by the notion, which only amplified my relief.

“Do not let the tuxes fool you. These people are animals, Theodora. They only understand cruelty and barbarism. They must believe you are my…plaything, so to speak. It won’t keep someone from trying to barter for you, but at least they won’t steal you. I hope.”

He hoped?

“How can they barter for me if you don’t want to trade?” I asked.

“They’d go after something I want—something that I might value more. If that doesn’t work, they’ll just go after something else until they can force me to trade.”

“What, you mean like your kid or something?”

“Yes. Or something.”

Okay. Now I was officially disgusted by these people.

He continued, “Now, I want you to claw my face and scream loudly.”

Whatthehell?
“You’re serious.”

“Yes. Then I will return to the party and you will remain here. With the doors locked until I come to get you.”

“And then what?” I asked.

“If all goes well, tonight I will find out who Mack traded the chalice to.”

That sounded easy. Too easy.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“I guess—but first, tell me what happened. How do you feel?”

His eyes filled with conflict and joy. “I feel…whole again.”

My eyes filled with a smidgen of tears. I knew I should hate this man for everything he’d done to me, but now I couldn’t. He’d been broken before. And now he wasn’t.

He took my hand and placed it on his cheek. “Make it bleed.”

This was freaking weird. On the other hand, he had gutted me like a fish, cracked my neck a few times, and I think he’d even once lit me on fire. Maybe a few scratches to his beautiful face were in order.

I flexed my fingers and raked down hard, digging my nails into his skin.

He winced and pulled back. “Owww…”

“Seriously?” I sneered at him and then screamed at the top of my lungs.

He gave me a nod and then reminded me not to open the door for anyone except him.

He left, and I locked the doors behind him before plopping down onto the bed.
Well, that was goddamned weird.

But little did I know, we were just getting started. At the end of it all, each of us would give up a piece of our souls and hearts for the chance to bring Mack back. And one of us would give up everything.

CHAPTER TWENTY

While waiting in the big, expensively decorated bedroom—yes, fit for a king with a king-sized bed, soft down comforter and pillows, and plush velvety white carpet—I realized that I had completely neglected my old life. You know, that one with a job, two retired parents, and a handful of friends who didn’t actually know the real me?

Bentley!
I dug out my cell from my pocket and called Shannon. Thankfully, Bentley had a doggie door and a big bowl full of food along with water, so he wasn’t starving, but who knew when I’d be back.

Come on. Come on. Come on. Yes!
Shannon answered, and I told her that I was deathly ill and staying with a friend—which she didn’t seem surprised by given how bad off I’d been the last time she’d seen me at the center. I also told her where to find my hidden house key and Bentley’s supply of food and treats. I then texted my parents, lying to them too about having the flu, and added a Facebook post to seal the deal with my friends. I bought myself a few extra days before anyone started really worrying.

After about two hours, I heard a light knock on the door. Unsure of who it might be, I didn’t answer.

“It’s me, Theodora. They’ve all left now,” said a King-sounding voice.

“How do I know it’s really you?”

“You were wearing a brown potato sack and running in the mud the first time I killed you.”

Yep. That’s King
. I went to unlock the door, and he pushed his way in, not pausing to look at me. A man on a mission.

“I found out who Mack traded the chalice to,” he said, and began pacing by the window, rubbing that strong stubbled chin of his between his thumb and index finger. Why did he have to look so much like original Mack?

Nature was a cruel teasing bitch to make double.

“And?” I said.

“It’s not good. Her name is Talia, and our relationship is less than optimal for a trade of any sort.”