Lord King (The King) - Page 23

What the fuck? I jolted back into my skin, my heart pounding furiously. That asshole. He slept with someone? Was it the woman he meant to kill? Some side piece?

I got that King’s wife was dead, and technically, he could sleep with anyone he wanted, but that meant he was full of shit. All this time, he’d been telling me how much he loved Mia, that he would do anything to cross over and be with her again. It was the reason he gave when he’d rejected me after he’d regained his memories.

And I believed him. I honestly thought he was loyal to his heart, which was his one redeeming quality.

Now I really didn’t know who was playing me. The Seers? Ansin? King? My mind flashed back to what Circe had said. I had to start relying on myself for answers.

CHAPTER TEN

I spent the rest of the early morning practicing the fine art of not freaking the fuck out. Surprise! I sucked at it.

Unfortunately, it didn’t matter now because I wasn’t in this alone. Someone very important needed me to keep it together and figure out what to do. Was I in danger from Ansin? Should I run? Let Ansin kill King? Take Ansin’s offer? Ignore everything and see what happened? People were playing me. The question was, who? All right, and why? If I wanted answers, I had to push and use my gift.

After recharging with more room service, a cheese omelet and fruit bowl, I sat down and repeated the process like before. Relax. Let mind float. Ask a question. This time, though, I wasn’t looking for King. I was searching for answers.

I got one.

It was a flash—a moment in time—like a faint memory, but it was in the future. My future. With Ansin.

I saw myself with a baby in my arms. Ansin stood next to me, beaming down at the both of us. Even more confusing was how I looked back at him. There was love in my eyes, or at least, a substantial amount of admiration.

How’s this possible? How could I feel that way in eight or nine months, after the baby came? What events would occur to drive me to want a man who, not more than twelve hours ago, said he would’ve taken me against my will (but since he was such a nice dude, he came with a civil offer of marriage first).

I rubbed my forehead. I can’t take this anymore. My mind hurt. My heart hurt worse. I felt sick to my stomach, and I was absolutely sure none of it was good for my baby.

I groaned and went to the kitchen to grab a water. Ansin wanted my answer by tomorrow, but I had little to go on. Considering the gravity of everything in front of me, I had to keep pushing.

I went upstairs to the master bath and took a hot shower to soothe my nerves. I wasn’t showing yet, of course, but my body felt bloated, and my breasts were tender. Both made the inevitability of this pregnancy a thousand times more real. My needs were quickly fading into the background.

I dressed in a pair of sweats and my favorite pink T-shirt and got back to work.

I sat on the couch in the living room and closed my eyes, my body revving up with tingles and heat. My heart rate slowed to a calm, steady rhythm.

“Show me, Jeni,” I said to myself. “Show me the answers. What am I missing? Who do I trust if I want to survive?” I pressed my hand to my stomach, thinking about how much depended on the answer.

The face of Ariadna popped in my mind. It was her, only…smaller. Much smaller. Maybe one or two years old. I recognized her lips (just like King’s), and I would know her stunning brown eyes anywhere—the way they caught the light wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen.

Why am I seeing her?

Unlike the past few times, when I attempted to use my gifts and got spooked, I didn’t pull back. I pushed harder.

Why am I seeing her? What is her place in all this? Show me, Jeni. Fucking show me. The image of the infant in my arms flashed in my head again. And like before, Ansin stood by my side, beaming lovingly at us.

I looked down at the face of the baby.

My eyes flew open. No. How can it be?

Feeling sick, I ran to the bathroom just off the living room and hovered over the toilet. My breakfast wanted to come up, but I forced it to stay down. For her. For the baby who needed me to take care of myself and happened to look like the infant version of Ariadna.

How is this happening? How could the baby in my arms look like her? But she had. The similarity was too big to ignore.

Tags: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Paranormal
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