Lord King (The King) - Page 31

Is that all? I tried not to react or smile. For a man like King, this was child’s play. He’d dished out punishments to Ten Club members who’d broken the rules that were a thousand times crueler. Even makes me uncomfortable. Which said a lot.

I slid my hand across the table and patted Jeni’s hand, growing irritated by her sobs. “You can stop that now. He will be fine.” As my fingertips touched her, a spike of warmth surged through my hand. I pulled it away.

My, my, what was that? My little treasure was becoming more interesting by the minute.

“Sorry.” Jeni reached for a napkin from the dispenser on the table. “I’ve just never seen anything so violent.”

Again, I stifled a smile. It was almost adorable how untainted she was by this world. “Let us go now to save your king. We have a long flight.”

“But I don’t have a passport.”

This time, I couldn’t hide my amusement. “Oh, my little treasure,” I chuckled my words. “How innocent you are.” I slid from the booth and stood. “Passports are for those who adhere to the laws of men and believe they have to ask permission. People like us don’t ask permission. Hurry now. I don’t want to miss the flight or the next show.” Sage was quite skilled with a knife. Fortunately, I was better.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jeni

Seeing Ansin during the day was not the same as seeing him at night when his chiseled, dark features seemed elegant and seductive.

Now I could see the golden rings around the irises of his black eyes. I could see the faded scars on his deeply tanned face that left lines on his jaw where the stubble no longer grew. I could see the fine wrinkles around his lips that, despite their fullness, looked stiff. Like he’d forgotten how to smile. Really smile.

He was hard and cold, and everything about him told me he was not to be trusted, that he was more animal than man. Even the way he carried himself—like he could kill you with one look, because he probably could—was unlike anything I’d encountered. Not even King walked like that. Then again, King tried to hide what he was. This man chose to advertise it.

“Get on.” Ansin mounted his chrome and leather motorcycle.

“I’m not riding that.” I was pregnant. Also, I didn’t see any helmets.

“You are if you want to make our flight.” He raised a black brow and pushed his jaw-length hair back behind his ears. Now I realized why he probably wore it long; his ears were scarred, too, but worse than his face, like someone had branded him with wire mesh.

I wonder what happened to him. Something told me it was a lot of somethings. Maybe the result of being alive as long as he had and not having King’s ability to come back in a shiny new body?

He pumped that pedal thing with his foot, and the bike roared to life. “You coming or not, Jeni?”

The hard lines of his lips momentarily distracted me. He was a beautiful man. Or was a beautiful man once. I could see pieces of the original framework—pronounced cheekbones and a strong jaw, a square chin and deep, intense eyes—peeking through the bitterness and scars. I bet he was breathtaking when he was younger before the world took pieces of him.

We locked eyes for a moment, and a spike of fear charged through me, followed by adrenaline. I wasn’t completely afraid of Ansin, but I certainly wasn’t comfortable. One thing was for sure, Ansin liked the way I was looking at him. I could tell it gave him a subtle satisfaction. Just like when he walked into the café. The patrons nearly shit themselves, and there’d been a smugness on his face.

I drew a deep breath and got on the back of the bike.

“You’re going to have to put your arms around me,” he said.

I hesitated. This man had a wicked vibe that made me want to push away, but if I wanted to help King, I’d have to get through this.

I slid my arms around his torso, feeling the coolness of his leather jacket seep through my shirt into my chest. I pushed my hands through the opening of the jacket, pressed my fingertips into the soft fabric of his T-shirt. I felt his warm, hard muscles underneath.

A cold tingle rolled down my back. Everything in my body was telling me to run. He was bad. He was dangerous. And he might actually be more evil than King.

Ansin put the bike in gear, and we took off. He obeyed no speed limits. He obeyed no traffic laws. He drove like he owned this world and anyone who valued their lives should get out of his way.

They did.

And I needed to watch myself. Because, as much as he frightened me, his powers fascinated me.

Tags: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Paranormal
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