Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
But I wanted him to stay. For me. I was terrified of a world without him. My dead king. But in my heart, I knew… Whatever this thing was between us, I couldn’t be selfish. He taught me that.
He released my hand, leaving his heat on my skin.
I looked at the floor. “I understand. But I still don’t want your things.”
“I am beginning to see that those things were never truly mine, Jeni. I was merely collecting them for their rightful owner. The woman who was truly meant to wield such power and make this world something better instead of darker—a task I was not up to, I’m afraid.”
“But you don’t understand—I think I lo—”
“You do not know what love is.” His tone went firm. “Not yet. But you will. Someday, my dear Seer.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Did I mean it? Was I really falling in love with King? For the remainder of the flight, I sat quietly in my seat. My mind kept fighting to keep my shit together, while my heart struggled with the notion of letting go of King. Not just letting go, killing him.
But the die had been cast now. The invitations had been emailed. I needed to worry about getting my dad back, which meant I had to stay strong and focused. No tears. No going into hysterics. No thinking about what was being done to him by that sadistic woman. King’s plan had been set in motion, and if I did my part, I’d get my dad back in one piece.
While I focused on all that, King’s phone began ringing nonstop. Yes, his plane had a phone. And people were calling, begging for ten seconds of his time before the “party.” Between Tallahassee and San Francisco, I must’ve listened in on a hundred speaker calls. I realized King wanted me to hear. It was a crash course in manipulation, diplomacy, and arm twisting. Every person wanted something from him: Am I on your shit list? Should I be worried? Where have you been? What will happen to Serina?
I deciphered the following: Everyone feared him, and nothing was sacred to these people. Nothing. They’d sell their own mothers to protect their asses.
A few minutes before landing, King ended the last call with a German woman who was worried about losing her court case and wanted King’s assurances her membership privileges wouldn’t “lapse.” Apparently, she’d filleted a few men for fun and got caught. Ten Club was making it all go away.
After he ended the call, I shook my head. “What a bunch of sickos.”
King sighed. “Yes. Quite.”
Sitting in front of him, I stood and took the seat next to him, across the aisle. “I can’t believe you voluntarily hung out with these guys.”
“It is a very long story.”
I bet. “So, is everyone coming to your evil shindig?” I hoped so because that was part of the plan, and I wanted everything to go off without a hitch. My dad’s life was at stake and, therefore, mine. I would never get over losing him. Not like this.
“They will be there,” King said, his tone cocky. “Even if it’s merely for the enjoyment of watching Serina and me face off.”
Ah. “But she isn’t more powerful than you, is she?” King never gave me his laundry list of skills, but I knew they were impressive.
“She believes she is stronger. After so much time, perhaps she is; but all we need is for her to show. Nothing else matters.”
I still couldn’t believe I was doing this. Neither could my tangled stomach. I just hoped my dad was all right.
“So how long has Serina been leader?” I asked.
King went back to work on his laptop. “Twenty-five years.”
“I don’t follow.” Not a surprise because King only spoke in puzzles.
His cold eyes slowly glided up to meet mine. “I have been gone for over twenty-five years.”
Wait. What? But how—I mean… I shook my head, trying to clear it up. “You were sitting in that metal box, drowning repeatedly, for a quarter century.”
“Yes.”
No. No. That couldn’t be right.
“I assure you,” he said, “it was as big a shock to me as it is to you.”
Holy crap. “That’s why you freaked out over the date in the newspaper.”
“I do not ‘freak out.’”
I’d take that as a yes. So, basically, when he “woke up” in that metal box, he hadn’t realized the date. And it wasn’t like he had a phone on him, displaying the date.
He went on, “I was too preoccupied with my situation to notice the year. I simply assumed it had been a few weeks.”
I scrubbed my face with my hands and whooshed out a breath. “You should’ve told me.”
“Would it have changed anything?”
“It sure as hell changed something for you,” I pointed out.
“It was a wake-up call. Until I faced my demons, nothing would resolve. Five years. A decade. Twenty-five years. A hundred. I realized I would not be allowed to die until I dealt with whatever circumstances had placed me in that box.”