King slipped from the vehicle and approached me, but I held out my hands, warning him not to come closer. Then the tears began to pour from my eyes, and I had to use my hands to cover the horrifying scream that erupted from my mouth.
I was certain that King was going to slap me or throw me into the car to keep me from drawing the attention of passersby, but instead, he pulled me against his hard frame. He held my head to his broad chest and stroked my hair while I sobbed hysterically for five whole seconds. I suddenly felt safe, so incredibly safe. Like nothing could touch me or hurt me ever again. Except for King.
He gripped my shoulders and pushed me back, pinning me with his hypnotic, jewel-like eyes. “That’s enough crying, Miss Turner. We have work to do.”
I blinked at him. “You are the devil, aren’t you?” How else could I explain what he knew or how I saw things that couldn’t possibly be real? He was messing with my mind.
He looked at me oddly and smirked with those exquisite lips. “I would gladly take the position if it were up for grabs and actually existed.”
I stared, not amused one bit.
He gave my shoulder a little squeeze. “If I were the devil, then why would I be helping you?”
“Who are you?” I asked.
He shrugged his sable brows. “I, Miss Turner, am the man who can find anything. And you…” He gripped my wrist, flipped it over, and then pointed to the “K” tattooed on my arm. “Are my Seer of Light. Let’s hope you stay alive longer than the last one.” He turned away and got into the waiting SUV.
I stood there shaking, wondering what on God’s green earth he’d meant.
He looked at me from inside the vehicle. “Are you getting in? Or do I have to drag you?”
I didn’t know who I was, where I was, or what was happening, let alone what else to do, so I got in.
“Close the door, Miss Turner,” King instructed.
I did as he asked.
“Very good.” He glanced up at the driver. “Arno, take us to the dig site.”
As if my brain had been set to slow motion, drugged with a strong sedative, I turned my head toward King. Still dressed in his dark jeans, he now wore a long-sleeved, black T-shirt and black boots. His jet black hair was messier than usual and falling a bit in his face like he’d just towel-dried it and left it that way. He looked fierce and untamed, yet regal and shockingly handsome. He exuded potent, raw, male energy. “Are you staring, Miss Turner?”
I nodded absently, only able to feel the tips of my fingers and the tops of my toes. I think I was in shock.
“Like what you see?” he asked.
Had he really just asked that? The exact same words he’d used in my dream?
I blinked. “What’s a Seer of Light?”
He looked ahead at the road. “You’ll understand once we get there, but it is a sixth sense very few have. That is why I brought you to the temple last night, to borrow some of its power to help you unleash yours. And to mark you.”
The temple has power? He used it on me? Why do I feel so wooooozy? Maybe King planned to murder me tonight and had doped me up.
“What happened to the last Seer again?” I said with a slow slur.
“She died because she disobeyed me.”
Holy crap. I knew it. “You killed her, didn’t you?”
King flashed an irritated look. “No. I needed her, just like I need you. To do your job for me.” He shifted his body in my direction and rested his thick arm along the back of the seat.
“What’s happening to me?” I asked.
“You’re waking up, Mia. You’re seeing the truth.”
The truth? I knew that word, but my mind felt all slushy inside.
“What did you do to me?” I mumbled. “Did you drug me?”
“It’s simply your brain trying to reconcile the old reality with the new. It will wear off. Why don’t you try humming since that seems to help you?”
He knew that I hummed? How odd. I closed my eyes. “I feel dizzy.”
King slipped his hand from the back of the chair onto my thigh and gave it a rub. His touch felt strangely sensual. It was tingly and electric. I liked it.
“You’ll be fine,” he said in that deep, deep voice that sounded like it had been cut from a blanket woven from thick dark chocolate and sin.
I snorted with drunken amusement. “Chocolate blankets. Ha! Okaaaay.”
“Rest, Miss Turner. We’ll be there soon.”
I mumbled some sort of agreement and drifted off to images of Justin, Brian, and King swirling in my head like a fuzzy kaleidoscope.
When I opened my eyes again, it took several moments for my vision to clear. I wiggled my way upright in the backseat, rubbing my tingly face.
“King is waiting for you below.”
I shook my head. “Huh?”
The driver—Arno?—pointed to my side of the vehicle. Once again, the night was pitch black, but I could make out a mound of dirt a few yards away.
“Oh—kee—do—kee.” I stumbled from the SUV. I felt like I’d downed a bottle of tequila, then rum, then whiskey. I dropped to my hands and knees, retching, but nothing came out.
The driver came to my aid and pulled me up. “You’ll be fine, Miss Turner.”
“Yes. Yes. I’m okay. I’m okay.” I think…?
He showed me to a wooden ladder that led to a dark hole in the ground. “Turn around.”
I did as Arno instructed and clumsily lowered myself until I reached solid footing.
“Ah, Miss Turner, you are awake. How do you feel?” King’s strong arms gripped my waist to steady me. I felt wobbly and disoriented, but I liked the feel of his powerful hands digging into me.
“Like Alice,” I replied.
King’s lips twitched in that special way that almost looked like a smile. “Yes, and here is your rabbit hole.”
Gas lanterns and candles illuminated much of the dark space, but all I saw were the dirt floor, dirt walls, and dirt overhead.
“Is this it?” I asked.
King took my hand, and I noticed how his touch was hot and cold all at the same time. And it did things to me. It made my blood flow faster, made me breathe heavier. It worked its way inside my mind and pushed against it. His touch felt almost…erotic.
“This is where your brother was searching for it.”
“Searching for what?” I asked.
“I don’t know. But it was powerful. Can you feel its energy, Miss Turner, radiating through the rocks and ground we stand upon?”
I only felt him, his touch, moving inside my body. I wanted more.
I wiggled my head back and forth. Why did I feel so loopy? Why couldn’t I think straight? “I feel like throwing up.”
King placed his hands on either side of my face, which only increased the wild, erotic sensations pulsing through me. “Mia.” He stroked the hair from my eyes. “You are safe now. You simply need to relax, to let your mind do the work. Do you understand?”
Safe? With King? Impossible. I’d never be safe around him.
I nodded anyway.
“Good,” he said. “Now look around, and tell me what you see.”
I wanted to please him. I wanted to do exactly what he asked. I just didn’t want him to stop touching me. “I see…I see…dirt?” I looked back into his eyes. They were no longer silver, but black, black like the night.
“Try again, Mia. Try harder.” His hands moved to my shoulders and massaged gently.
I closed my eyes and fully leaned my mind into the sensual power of his touch. I am stoned. Stoned. I think I like it. No, I don’t. I like control. I like to know what’s going on. “And I like you, King. I like you.” I poked his chest. “You’re sexy and big, and I…like you.”
Had I said that? Me?
King sighed. “If only that were true. Now focus, Mia.”
“Okaaay. But you have to kiss me again. Then I’ll do anything you want.”
“Again?”
“Like you did in my dream.”
“So you dream about me?” The thought seemed to please him.
“Yes or no, King. Yes or no,” I said, mocking his voice.
Hesitation flickered in his striking eyes, but then those full carnal lips edged with thick black stubble smiled at me, and I melted.
“Just remember, you asked.” He threaded his fingers through my hair and cautiously brought his mouth to mine.
Oh God. I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose. His kiss shot delicious tingles and sparks through my entire body. It made my stomach quiver and twist and…
I leaned my drunken weight into that sublimely masculine body forged from solid muscle and cold, hard, domineering strength. This wasn’t the taste of a man who was damaged or evil, but of a man who conquered and triumphed. This man felt like a god.
I sighed and savored the sensation of his hot, unrelenting lips roughly pressed to mine and of his hot tongue sliding in and out of my mouth. I slipped my arms around his tight waist and pulled his warm body closer, only to feel the pang of rejection as he pushed me back.
“No, Miss Turner. I gave you what you wanted, and now you must reciprocate.”
I made a pouty sigh. “Fine. But…wait. What did you want?”
King’s dark eyes washed over the room. “Tell me what you see.”
I held up my index finger. “Ah, yes!”
I surveyed the perfectly rectangular cavern with crudely cut wooden beams supporting the ceiling, surprised to see all sorts of colors swirling in various spots over the dirt floor. “Woooow. I see colors. Lots of pretty, pretty colors,” I slurred.
“Do you see anything red?” King asked.
“Yes!” I pointed to several large spots on the ground. There were four.
“Very good. And do you see anything with a black and red pattern?” he asked.
“Right there.” I pointed to a shallow hole in the corner. “It has a weird design. Kind of like crisscrosses.” It reminded me of something, but I couldn’t think of what.
I turned to King. “What is it?”
King’s eyes lit with unfiltered joy. “It is the Artifact—where it used to lie, anyway.”
“Artifact?”
Suddenly, my head felt like it was buried beneath ten tons of gravel, like something wanted to press me into the ground and send me to the fiery pits of hell. I stumbled and gripped the sides of my head.
“Fight to accept it, Miss Turner. You must fight.”
I grimaced in pain. “Fight…what?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he asked me a question. “Where do you see the red?”
I pointed to one of the four spots only three feet away.
“Dig, Miss Turner.”
My mind was beginning to clear, the lucidity returning. “Dig?”
King pointed to the loose dirt. “Dig.”
“Why?” I asked.
Yes, my head is becoming clearer now. Why am I here?
Regardless of what my mind said, my body lowered itself to the ground and began to dig. Three or four inches down, I hit something soft. I scooped several handfuls of earth to the side, then brushed away the remaining dirt. It was an arm.
I jumped up and screamed.
King gripped me firmly from behind. “Look at it. I don’t want there to be any doubts moving forward of what is real and what is not.”
I twisted my head away. “No, I can’t.”
“If you want to find your brother, you will look.” He pushed my jaw in the direction of the hole. “Open your eyes, Mia.”
I couldn’t help myself from doing what he asked. When my eyes registered what I saw, I understood something profoundly disturbing; I was not right in the head.
“That’s…that’s…” The arm had a tattoo of a serpent and a pickax. The flesh was rotten and blue. “It’s Brian,” I cried. Oh God. “Is Justin here, too?” No. Please, Lord, no!
“He is not, Miss Turner. Those others are your brother’s missing crew.”
I crumpled beneath the weight of my own body.
CHAPTER NINE
London. A Few Days Later.
“You need to eat, Mia.” Mack lifted my head from the pillow and tipped a bowl of broth toward my mouth, but I refused to drink. Frustrated, he grumbled under his breath before placing the bowl on the nightstand. “Do you want King to put my head on a spike?”
I glared at his blue, puppy-dog eyes. “Don’t you have a plane to fly or something?” I tucked the covers tightly under my arms and closed the gap of my white robe. I felt so damned cold.
“Thanks to you, no, I don’t.” He swept his hand over his body to point out his outfit. He wore regular old khakis and a green-colored, Irish wool turtleneck, which meant he wasn’t flying today, I guessed.
“Not my fault King made you the official Mia-sitter.”
Mack shook his head. “It is, and you know it.”
Okay. Maybe it was. When I woke up a few days ago with no recollection of traveling to this posh London hotel with a view of the marble arch, I was sicker than a dog on a teacup ride. King had said it was a side effect of my “gift,” but that didn’t matter. I had jumped from the bed and, apparently, tried to kill him with my bare hands. I don’t remember the incident, but according to Mack, I told King I would slice off his balls with a rusty hacksaw if I ever saw him again. I guess that’s when I told him to get Mack, the only person I could stand to look at without vomiting and who King would trust my care to.
I shrugged. “Maybe. But why the hell are we even here? Did King find a record of Justin getting on a flight?”
“No.” Mack shook his head. “Would you just eat?”
“I’m not hungry.” I still felt like I had the stomach flu. I’d been able to hold down water and juice. That was it.
“You’ll feel better once you eat something.”
As if feeling better is even possible. The crazy crap I’d seen in Palenque guaranteed I wouldn’t.
I scoffed and looked away. “Is that what King told you?”
“No. It’s basic biology. Your body needs food.” He let loose a throaty grumble. “Mia, I fully understand why you’re upset; however, may I share something with you?”
I knew Mack wasn’t my friend, but there was something about him that made me want to trust him.
“Are you going to tell me who King really is or what he did to me?” I asked.
Mack shoved his fingers through his disheveled blond hair. “No. King will tell you what you need to know. And to be frank, I don’t know as much as you think. I just know he’s—”
“What? Satan? A vampire who walks in daylight?”
“No. But,” he gave me a disapproving look, “Satan? Vampires? How old are you, eight?”
Who could blame me for reaching towards the impossible in search of answers? The things I’d seen, the things I’d felt—there were no logical explanations. “King practically asked for my soul in exchange for finding my brother. Which he still hasn’t done.”
“Why do you think he brought you to London, Mia?” Mack stood up. “The sooner you start eating, the sooner you’ll be able to resume the search. But King made it clear that you’re not leaving this room until you’ve straightened out. He doesn’t want you getting hurt.”
King didn’t care about me, so why would Mack say that? And it hadn’t gotten past me that Mack had done the old switcheroo and changed topics.
“Can you at least tell me, is he dangerous?”
Mack coughed out a laugh. “What the hell do you think?”
I nodded.
“Then you’d be right. So, are you going to eat?”
“Is that why you really work for him? Not hungry,” I said.
“I work for him because I made a deal. You should eat so you’ll get back your strength. And stop acting like a child; this isn’t a game.”
“What’s with King and deals? Is he Monty Hall? Did he brand you, too? I’m not acting like a child, but you two are treating me like one. I’m. Not. Hungry. And can we stop having
two conversations?”
“I can see you’re going to be trouble. God help King.”
“God help me.”
Mack chuckled. “I’ll be back in a few; I’ve got to take care of some paperwork at the airport. Do not leave this room, Mia, or you’ll feel the wrath of two dangerous men.”
Nice. “See ya.”
I watched Mack leave the room with a little bounce in his step. He seemed like a happy, content-with-his-life sort of guy without any romance-deterring baggage. He was boyishly handsome and confident. He looked pretty damned tough—physically anyway—and he flew planes. What the hell was he doing messed up in all this and working for King?
King.
I didn’t want to feel those butterflies deep in my stomach when I thought about the man, but I couldn’t help it. Don’t get me wrong. They weren’t the swoon breed, but the nervous, angry, froth at the mouth sort of butterflies.
Yes, rabid, crazed, angry butterflies of death and destruction. At least, that’s what I told myself. In all honesty, I questioned how any part of me, even a tiny part that only came out when I felt intoxicated, could have any romantic feelings for a man like King. For that to happen, there’d have to be something good inside him, some redeeming quality that I felt attracted to.
Maybe there’s just something wrong with you.
I slid lethargically from the bed and wandered to the window for another look at the arch. It was evening now, and the sun was just setting. London was actually a lovely city. Why had I never noticed? I’d been there about ten times, but always for business. Airport. Hotel. Office. Restaurant. Hotel. Office. Airport. That was my usual itinerary. I’d never stopped to see Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, or the Natural History Museum. Come to think of it, I was the most traveled person I knew, yet I’d never been anywhere worth talking about or remembering with a photo. I’d been too focused on work and climbing the ladder.
What a waste. I shook my head, trying not to think about what happened in Mexico or how short life was. Those poor, poor men. Who would want to end their lives?
“Feeling better, I see?”
I swiveled to find King standing in all his usual, seductive-and-imposing glory. He wore a thin, black sweater and tailored black pants that hugged every powerful muscle. His hair was neatly combed back behind his ears, and his ashen eyes glimmered from the black frames of his lashes.