Lord King (The King)

A gust of cold fresh air poured into the room and filled my lungs with the scent of the green grass outside. Off in the distance, horses grazed next to a small stream. It was just like the paintings in the foyer entrance.

My head began to clear immediately, and I went back to check on Ansin. Maybe the fresh air was helping him, too.

“Ansin? Hey, wake up.” I gave him another nudge with my foot, but he was still out cold, in dreamland.

Strange. A part of me felt a sense of loss when I looked at him now. I’d been so happy in that dream. And the sex felt real. Every detail—the way he moved, the texture of his soft skin, the way his back flexed beneath my fingertips when he drove his thick cock into me. It had been just as real as any memory.

My breasts and groin began to heat recalling the touch of his rough hands. But it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real, I told myself. Ansin had been right. He said I would wake up feeling otherwise.

Why had he done that to me? He planted that dream.

I hope you enjoyed your dream of me telling you no. Hope you wake up with blue balls.

“Ansin?” I tried one more time to wake him. Nada. I should wait for him, but I worried about King. Was he all right? Was he still alive? Somewhere in between?

I scooted Ansin’s muscled limp frame out of the way and carefully stepped out into the hall. I sniffed the air, which still held a putrid aroma, but there was no hint of sage. A good sign.

I focused my attention on the length of the hall. At the very end was another large window. Ansin said that Sage’s bedroom was down that way. I only hoped I didn’t encounter more of her traps.

Tiptoeing, I navigated my way to the large window and opened it. To my left was a red door. On the other side had to be King, but what else would I find in there?

Probably more of that dream crap.

I sucked in a big breath of fresh air and opened the door. The bed from my vision sat in the middle of the room, but the red velvety curtains were drawn around it. I couldn’t see if King was inside or what shape he’d be in. I’d have to go in and be fast.

I spotted another window just opposite the door. I rushed over and pulled open the panes, allowing more sweet air to fill the room. I exhaled and breathed it in, noting a foul stench nearby. Death.

I hoped it wasn’t King. But how could it be? He couldn’t die. Not yet. My eyes swept the room, immediately finding the source of the odor. On the nightstand were more jars.

My heart sank. I’d seen them in my vision, too. I knew what they were.

Poor King. No one deserved that kind of torture. He’d been cut open, had his organs removed, and then left to heal or regenerate or whatever he did when his body came back, good as new. All just so Sage could repeat the process.

Sick.

I walked over to the bed, placed my hands on the seams of the curtains, and closed my eyes. Whatever was in this bed might be worse than anything I’d seen so far. Was I ready?

Probably not.

With a swoosh, I parted the curtains. King lay there with a thick satin blanket covering his torso, his arms to his sides. He looked as beautiful as ever, his lips relaxed, that regal set of straight black brows arched perfectly across his forehead. Thick silky lashes fanned out over his cheekbones, and a wash of inky stubble covered his square jaw. He looked like a sleeping Greek god, too beautiful for words. He was back. Alive again. Shiny new body.

I sighed with relief. “King? Can you hear me?” I sat on the edge of the bed and touched his arm. “King? You’re safe now. Sage is gone.”

“Mmmm…” he groaned.

“Open your eyes. Tell me you’re okay.”

Suddenly, his arm reached out and pulled me down. He rolled on top of me, pinning my hands above my head.

“What are you doing?” I gasped.

The blankets were tangled between our bodies, but I could feel he was hard.

King buried his head in the crook of my neck and began kissing the tender skin. “You feel so good. I missed you.”

I winced, knowing those words weren’t for me. How could they be? His mind was probably off somewhere with Mia.

Still, my body instantly heated. Maybe it was because I’d just spent the night dream-fucking Ansin and my body needed a real release. Maybe it was because my body remembered King. It remembered how good he’d made me feel. Or maybe it was the baby hormones. Either way, I couldn’t help enjoying the sensation of his weight on top of me, even if I knew his arousal wasn’t for me.