King of Me
King
Series #3
By: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
Released Oct 18th, 2014
Self Published
“You’re asking me to…love you?” asked Mia.
He slowly scratched his thick black stubble. “I suppose I am.”
He slowly scratched his thick black stubble. “I suppose I am.”
What if you were asked to love the one man on earth
you couldn’t trust, you feared, who betrayed you at every turn? Could you do it
to save the people you hold dear?
Mia Turner is ready to give it all—her body, her
heart, her soul—to the mysterious, ruthless billionaire who holds all the cards
to saving her family. But when this dangerous, sinfully sexy man, simply known
as King, demands something more, something horrifying, Mia will be forced to
face the impossible truth about their lives.
Sometimes the truth brings salvation. And sometimes
the truth breaks you.
Sex with a ghost. Sex with a
ghost. Am I really going to do this? I stared into my champagne
glass, my hand trembling as I focused—tried to focus, anyway—on the delicate
bubbles fizzing to the surface. It was all I could do to keep from getting up
and running from the nearly empty restaurant or stealing yet another look at my
date. His unsettling, raw masculinity nearly undid me every time, despite
knowing that his exterior was a façade.
How did I get myself into this?
“Miss Turner,” he said in
that deep, dark, disapproving tone, “look at me.”
I knew I had to face this
situation head-on, so to speak. There would be no running away.
You can handle it. Hell, I’d endured a heck of
a lot worse these past few months—physical threats, being kidnapped, watching
my brother get murdered; however, my mental armor wore thin.
Doesn’t matter. You’re in the home stretch
now.
I finally willed myself to
gaze across the table at the imposing, exquisite, and dangerous man, his sleek
muscular body draped in an expensive tux.
Stunning.
I listened to my heart beat
exactly three times and then sucked in a shallow breath, willing my heart to
continue pumping.
The way the candlelight
danced over his finely sculpted cheekbones, chiseled jaw, and sensual lips
mesmerized me. I couldn’t help it. Then there were those dark lashes and his
thick, wavy black hair that fell just behind his ears, and…Well, let’s just say
his appearance made it easy to forget who he was: an ancient, dead king cursed
to roam the earth for eternity. His modern camouflage wasn’t simply exquisite;
it was flawless.
Sweat
began to trickle down my spine beneath my little black dress, forcing me to
shift in my seat. Breathe,
Mia. Breathe.
“Stop the incessant
fidgeting, Miss Turner, and tell me how you like the champagne.” He stared
unblinkingly at me with his icy gray eyes.
Trying to project an air of
calmness, I casually brushed my crazy blonde waves from my face and picked up
my menu, finding sanctuary from my thoughts on page two. “Um. The champagne is
good. I like it.”
Idiot. Even I, with my whiskey
palate, knew this was a five-hundred-dollar bottle of fermented grape juice fit
for the gods.
Or a king.
Able to hear my thoughts,
he smirked, and two tiny but deep dimples puckered in his stubble-covered
cheeks. “Do you know what you’d like to order?”
“Not really.” I didn’t
normally eat this sort of stuff—quail egg sushi rolls with a ginger plum
reduction, or wild sea bass with a lilac honey glaze. It sounded pretty good,
but for one hundred dollars a plate, I didn’t feel right rolling the dice on my
menu selection.
You’re going to have sex with King tonight,
and you’re worried about what to order?
“That is exactly right,
Miss Turner.” He pinned me with his cool eyes. “Ordering the wrong dish isn’t
the end of the world. Sex on the other hand…” He scratched his unshaven chin.
“I expect my order to be perfect. Or there will be consequences.” He flashed a
wicked little grin.
Dammit.
“Stay out of my head,” I
said.
“Let us cut the crap, Miss
Turner. I can hear you. I can either pretend not to, or we may both simply acknowledge
that this is a fact. If I pretend, however, I will not be gaining any…” he
reached for the words, “yards. Yes—yards with you.”
“So we’re playing football
now?” I supposed the sports metaphor felt appropriate. He wanted to win and
would mow down anyone who got in his way. Right now, he needed to win me. All
of me. Why? I’d get to that in a moment.
“No. Our game is far more
serious than that.” He dipped his head a notch and gazed hungrily across the
candlelit table, pushing my body temperature up ten more degrees despite my
effort to ignore the hold he had over me.
“The game of life,” I
muttered under my breath.
“Greater than that.”
What could be bigger than life? I wondered.
“The eternity of death,” he
replied to my thoughts with a curtness that needed no explanation. He was,
after all, dead and had been for over three thousand years, searching for an
escape from the cruel, horrifyingly painful curse cast upon him by his
unfaithful wife, Hagne. Hagne had been a Seer of Light like myself with the ability
to see people’s energy. Sometimes I saw imprints left behind by objects, too.
Obviously, I suspected Seers were capable of much, much more—case in point:
Hagne’s curse—but I’d never know. I was the last Seer. Which was why King had
an interest in me far beyond anything casual. And if I were to be honest with
myself, a part of me, the part that lived in the darkest recesses of my mind,
wanted him back.
“Do you plan to answer me
this evening, Miss Turner?” King asked.
I pushed my mind away from
any thoughts of sex and tried to focus on the conversation. “H-h-honesty. What
else? If you can’t stop hearing my thoughts, there’s no point in pretending.”
He smiled in that sexy,
sinful sort of way that could melt a woman’s panties off her body—like it or
not. Yeah, he was powerful.
“I meant, what dish will
you be ordering? I already knew you would choose honesty. You’re not one to
advocate lying.”
He was right about that. I
couldn’t tolerate dishonesty. Which was why I struggled with what was to come
after dinner. Why did he insist on making sex part of our new “deal”?
King leaned in. “Mia, how
many times must I explain this? The Artifact will allow me to bring back one
life, just one. Do you want your brother returned to you or not?”
I looked toward the
panoramic view of San Francisco, the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge off in
the distance. “You know I do.”
Long story short, Justin
had been murdered. And while some might argue whether he’d deserved to die, at
the end of the day, he was family. My family. And returning Justin to my
parents was the only way to make my family whole again. But to bring him back,
I needed to break King’s curse. To break his curse, we had to get a hold of the
Artifact—a rock that King’s ex-wife had used to bind his curse. To break the
bond between King and the Artifact, a Seer had to undo it.
That’s where this all got
weird. Utterly and truly weird. According to him, the bond could only be broken
with love.
Yeah, pretty damned
strange. Definitely complicated.
However, I’d spent a lot of
time thinking this one over. If Hagne used hate to create his situation, then
it only made sense that the opposite energy would undo it. Sort of like an
antidote.
Now,
how breaking King’s curse would translate into a dead person—any dead
person—returning to life? That was where things became even stranger. He
claimed that once his curse was broken, the Artifact would allow one life to be
brought back as a sort of “do over.” King had obviously planned for his life to
be the lucky one, but he’d made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. In exchange for
ending his torment, he would allow my brother to return in his place. This
meant that King would cease to exist, but in the end, we’d all get something we
wanted. The only trick now was getting a hold of the elusive Artifact. And…I sighed, I have to find a way to open my heart to him
in order to deliver “the antidote.”
Easier said than done.
“Not difficult at all,”
King said. “You must simply put your youthful, spirited mind to it.”
I
made a little huff. I
may only be twenty-six—a baby in his eyes—but I know hearts don’t follow the mind; it’s
the other way around.
He tisked in disagreement.
“There, you see. A sign of your youthful naivety; your mind is far more
powerful than you give it credit.”
“My mind is busy trying to
accept that either way I’m screwed.”
“I should hope so, Miss
Turner.” He cocked one dark, silky brow. “After all, is that not why you are
here with me tonight? For the screwing?”
I
narrowed my eyes at him. Funny. “You
know what I meant, King. You’ve backed me into a no-win situation.”
“How so?”
He knew the answer. He was
too smart not to. But he wanted to hear me say it. He liked watching me squirm.
“If I successfully find a
way to…” I swallowed, “love you, then your curse will end and you’ll…”
“Cease to exist?”
I
nodded. Yes, I’ll get to enjoy the heartbreak of
caring about someone and losing him.
“Ah. But you will get your
brother back in my place.”
“Yes.” But if I don’t break your curse, I lose
Justin. There
was no right in this equation. There was no easy out or perfect ending. A Greek tragedy in the making.
“I cannot argue,” he said
casually, seemingly uninterested in my heart-wrenching dilemma. “It is quite
the predicament.”
I looked at him and forced
myself not to react to his indifference or to his exquisite masculine shell
that made my body want and need things it shouldn’t.
“I have a question,” I
said. “Are you just using this as an excuse to sleep with me?”
“Perhaps.”
His voice dropped an octave. “But if you are to love me, then we must become
acquainted. And I assure you, the gift of…” he paused, “fucking is one of my
finer qualities. I fear, perhaps, my only fine
quality. Why not begin with our best attributes forward?”
“Stop. We both know you’re
exaggerating,” I argued. “And before you go there, I’m not talking about the
sex.” I was, however, talking about his “finer qualities.” I’d learned that
King was sporadically capable of incredible compassion. A leftover from his
pre-curse days, I supposed. What I would’ve given to know that version of
him—King with a heart. This King was ruled by his obsession with the Artifact.
He’d lied, manipulated, and bullied me into doing things just to get closer to
it, which is why the man couldn’t be trusted when it came to that damned rock.
Yes, I planned to play this
out very carefully.
“I am worse than you could
ever imagine,” he said. “You will see for yourself soon enough.” He looked
toward the doorway where the waiter stood at attention. It was eerie to see the
five-star restaurant overlooking the city empty. Like we’d shown up too early.
In reality, it was ten o’clock at night, and King had reserved the entire place
just for us.
“Yes, sir. What may I bring
you?” asked the waiter.
King handed him the menu.
“I’ll have the steak Diane. Rare. She’ll have the same.”
“Very good, sir.” The man
scurried away.
Steak? I was leaning toward a salad, something
that won’t make my stomach bulge out while we’re—I swallowed—having
sex.
King chuckled at my
thoughts. “You’re beautiful, Mia. And I am looking forward to showing you how
much I mean that.” He sipped his champagne. “By the way, the steak will help
you keep up your strength. I am ravenous in the bedroom.”
My
spit stuck in my throat as I pictured the two of us, our naked bodies writhing
together on the large bed of whatever luxury penthouse suite he’d procured for
the night. King was beyond gorgeous. He was every woman’s sexual fantasy—large,
hard, and lean—but on the other side of the coin, sleeping with a ghost. A dead man—
“Enough.” King slammed his
fist on the table.
I jumped in my seat. “I
can’t help how I feel.”
“You’ve touched me before.
You’ve wrapped your hand around my cock. You didn’t seem to notice any
difference then, so stop behaving like—”
“Don’t. Don’t speak to me
like I’m your dog, or your woman, or your wife, or your anything.”
“Oh…” He chuckled. “But you
will be.”
“Excuse me?”
“My wife, that is.”
I
blinked. Did I hear him correctly?
“Yes. You did,” he
responded.
“I never agreed to that.”
“You agreed to give me
redemption and freedom from my hellish existence.”
“Marriage is out of the
question.” And it had nothing to do with what I’d agreed to. In fact, I was
seriously beginning to doubt his argument for having sex, too.
“You think you have a
choice in the matter?”
“Yes.” I always had a
choice.
“Wrong. You will fuck me
tonight. Then you will marry me, love me, and end my curse.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re
seriously commanding me to do those things?”
“What the hell do you
think?”
I think you’re insane.
“I don’t give a fucking
hell what you think. You’ll do as you are told, Miss Turner, because that was
always our deal.”
I
was about to retort when a poignant question entered my head: Why all this fuss
masked in a flurry of threats and bullying? Because shocking me was one of his
classic moves. The
bastard is planning something.
Tugging on his silver
cufflink, King glared from across the table. “You dare question my integrity?
We have a deal, and I never welsh.”
“But we’re not talking
about just any deal, are we?” An uneasy something built inside my stomach. King
was manipulating me like a rat in a maze. That was how he operated—always in
control, even when he made you feel like you were driving. But you never were.
Okay. Perhaps I needed to
retreat and rethink the terms of our arrangement. I agreed to end his curse,
but the “how” was open for interpretation, especially given that I needed to
feel some sort of affection for the man in order to do it.
I took a deep breath and
willed myself not to be swayed by his raw, backbreaking sensuality. “King, I’m
sorry, but I’m not doing this tonight.” I stood and placed my napkin on the
table.
“Where
the fuck do you
think you’re going?” he growled in a menacing tone that rattled my rib cage.
“I’m not falling for
another of your mind games. If we’re going to break your curse, it’s going to
be on my terms. Mine.”
He slowly rose from the
table, a predatory look in his silvery eyes. “I don’t think so.”
I shook my head at him.
“You can’t bully me into feeling something for you. If you want this to work,
you’re going to have to accept it.”
I turned toward the door,
feeling goddamned proud of myself. I’d stood up to the ancient, powerful king
without becoming tongue-tied. I said exactly what I’d meant to say and—
I felt a pull on my arm,
and my body flew through the air, landing with a crash onto the table. Our
champagne glasses tumbled to the floor, as did the candle and silverware.
He pinned me by the neck,
face down. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, Mia? Huh? A man who
gives a shit what you think or want?”
I grunted in agony as he
pushed my arm behind my back and ground my neck into the table. “Get off,
King!”
“Sir?” the waiter asked,
obviously wondering what the noise was all about.
“Leave!” King barked. “Or I
will kill you.”
“Help!” I screamed.
“Uhhh…Call if you need
anything, sir.” The waiter disappeared into the kitchen.
Sonofabitch wasn’t even
going to lift a finger for me?
“Don’t go! Help,” I
screamed again.
“I’ll help you, you fucking
bitch.” King pressed my neck harder into the table with one hand and began
shoving my dress up with the other.
I felt the hem pass my
hips, exposing my black lace thong. I’d put it on tonight, anticipating I’d
have the nerve to follow through.
“Don’t, King.”
“Shut the fuck up. I should
have done this the night we met.” He shoved down my panties, and I couldn’t
believe he was doing this. The evil fucking bastard would never find salvation
from his curse, but perhaps he’d never wanted it. A man who truly wanted love
would never do this. Never.
“Don’t, King. Or I swear,
I’ll—”
“What?
Curse me again, you bitch? You cannot hurt me now because you are
nothing,” he roared.
I
flung myself up from the bed, covered in sweat, panting and crying. Oh my God. Oh my God. I clutched the pink pajama fabric
covering my chest, my head swiveling from side to side. I wasn’t in any
restaurant, nor was I being violated—thank God. I was lying on a bed in King’s
palatial estate in Crete.
“Nice dream, Miss Turner.”
I yelped.
In the corner, King
comfortably sat in a leather armchair. He wore faded jeans and a white linen
shirt partially unbuttoned and exposing the tan chiseled planes of his
pectorals. A wicked smile occupied his full lips.
I felt my face turn
rage-red. “You…you…”
“Don’t blame me.” He held
up his palms as if surrendering. “That was all your twisted little brain. I
merely observed.” He leaned back, smothering a smile. “However, I must admit,
you have a dirty, dirty mind.”
If
I could kill him with my bare eyes, I would. God,
I hate you.
He laughed, his chest and
shoulders shaking as his head tilted toward the sky, before he returned his
unapologetic gaze to my furious eyes. “Then we have our work cut out for us,
don’t we, Miss Turner?” He stood and strolled casually toward the door of the
master suite and then stopped right before twisting the handle. “I’ll see you
downstairs to discuss the real terms of our new deal. And so we are clear,” he
narrowed those stunning, pale gray eyes, “sex, even your scandalous version—as
tempting as it may be—won’t be part of it. I know how disappointing that must
be, but I’m sure you’ll get over it.” He flashed a wicked, cocky grin and left.
I
growled out a breath toward the closed door. Sonofabitch. As if not sleeping with him was some great loss.
And how the hell could I help what I dreamed? Clearly my brain was letting off
steam, my dream a metaphor for how I felt ruinously cornered by the situation.
I sighed, knowing that
feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to solve a thing.
Just stay focused, Mia. Keep your eyes on the
prize.
Getting my brother back was all that mattered, and my new ruthless outlook on
life—compliments of living in King’s world for a few months—would help me do
that.
Don’t forget who you’re dealing with: the
goddamned devil. A devil who knew how to
push every single one of my buttons, and had.
But you’re not that same girl anymore.
No. I wasn’t.
And this time, I was
playing for my own prize.
When San Francisco native, Mimi Jean, went on an adventure as
an exchange student to Mexico City, she never imagined the journey would lead
to writing Romance. But one Mexican MBA, one sexy Mexican husband, and two
rowdy kids later, Mimi would trade in corporate life for vampires, deities, and
snarky humor. She continues to hope that her books will inspire a leather pants
comeback (for men) and that she might make you laugh when you need it most. She
also enjoys interacting with her fans (especially if they’re batshit crazy).
You can always find her chatting away on Facebook, Twitter, or saying many
naughty words on her show MAN CANDY on Radioslot.com
Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
