King for a Day by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Read Free Book Online

didn’t want to go exploring, especially on the second floor. Heads were on that floor. Live heads.
    I shivered. I didn’t even want to think about why King would do such a heinous thing to anyone. Deserving or not, it was horrific. And they were still alive. Alive!
    How’s that even possible? What is he?
    Your betrothed? Again, my stomach tingled.
    No. Stop that. I looked at the ring again and tried to slip it off. The damned thing was stuck. Seriously stuck. Great. I’m useless. Totally usel—
    When the sound of classical music caught my attention, I held my breath. Where the hell is that coming from? Did I really want to find out?
    “Mack? Is that you?”
    No reply.
    “Heads? Is that you?”
    Thankfully, there was no reply either.
    Before I realized it, I was halfway down the center aisle, heading toward the bank of stairs on the opposite side of the warehouse. The music grew louder as I got closer.
    “Hello?” I stopped and was about to return toward the entrance, but something started to pull, telling me that I had to continue up the stairs despite the action being against my better judgment.
    In fact, it felt like… King?
    I shuffled up the stairs, passed the second-floor landing, and followed the soft sounds. The horrible, menacing vibe that had been present before was completely gone now. In fact, the air was fragrant with spices and the delicious scent of King’s cologne.
    Oh my God. It is him! I was saved.
    I leaped my way up the stairs, taking two at a time. When I reached the third floor, however, I didn’t find what I’d hoped.
    I gasped. There was a heavy iron door right at the top of the stairs, blocking any possible entrance from the stairwell.
    Where had it come from? I pressed my ear to the cold door. Yes, there was loud music playing inside.
    “King!” I pounded on the door. “King!”
    The door creaked open as if moving on its own, and the music stopped.
    I stood there and stared in disbelief. There was no King inside, but the empty space was now filled. And not just with sculptures, furniture, and bookshelves that covered almost every wall, but the space was filled with color. Purple.
    This is King’s place. This was where he lived.
    But why hadn’t we seen it before? The “K” tattoo on my arm began to tingle and itch. It reminded me of the times that King’s emotions were elevated. Or when you feel his eyes on you when he’s nowhere to be found.
    Was King somehow there now, watching me? It sounded insane, but when it came to King’s abilities, anything was possible. The man could appear out of thin air, get inside my head, and make me feel things simply by looking into my eyes.
    Was King somehow allowing me to see this place?
    I stepped inside and inhaled deeply. King’s seductive scent permeated the air and gave me an unexpected sense of excitement.
    How is this possible? How am I seeing this?
    The place looked like one of those giant loft apartments you’d see in New York, perhaps something an artist might live in. Only this was the home of a very wealthy, mysterious, controlling man. Rich, dark area rugs, natural-colored hardwood floors, and furniture that had clean and simple lines. No real frills, absolutely nothing frilly, and no walls to divide the living spaces, except for what appeared to be a bathroom to my right.
    In one corner stood a giant bed covered in dark gray linens and tons of enormous fluffy pillows—reds and blacks. They oddly reminded me of the Artifact, but that thing, at least the energy it left behind, had a strange pattern to it, like little diamond shapes or crisscrosses. Then there was a small kitchen area—black granite counters, industrial-sized stainless steel fridge, but no stove or oven. There was, however, a large walk-in wine cellar made of glass. So the man had nothing to cook with, but had a lot of cooling capacity. That oddly fit King.
    The living room, where I stood, had one simple black leather couch next to a coffee table stacked with