I could not see the expression on Theodora’s face, but I did not need to in order to infer what she was thinking: This man is insane.
Sure the hell am. But not the way you think, sweetheart.
She leaned back a little in her chair. “So you gave them his ‘head,’ but it didn’t save your people.” There was blatant skepticism in her voice.
“Do you find my story difficult to believe?” I asked.
“Frankly, it sounds like an old gladiator or Viking movie. Tales of betrayal and fights to the death.”
Vikings? Those assholes? “I assure you, none of what I tell you is fantasy. And for the record, Vikings weren’t nearly as impressive as on TV.” They were more like overgrown sewer rats with big swords.
She glossed over my comment and asked, “How did you feel after your brother—what was his name again?”
She was testing to see if my mind was working correctly.
“Draco.” Later, he would be known in Athens as Draco the Law Giver, the man who birthed the very first written law in ancient Greece. He was also a cruel motherfucker, thus the term Draconian. Of course, today he went by the name King. Just King—the man was a powerful narcissistic asshole, through and through. And how was he still alive? I would also get to that part in a little while when the moment was right.
“Ah, yes. Draco,” she said. “So how did you feel after you murdered your own brother?”
“How do you think I felt?”
“I’m not you, so you’ll have to tell me.” Her glib tone was beginning to poke tiny holes in the wall I’d built to keep her safe—for the moment—from the darkness inside me.
“Are you certain you want to hear this part?” I questioned.
“You’ve asked me this several times. Why would I say I want to listen to you if I didn’t? I have plenty of other patients to see.”
“So I should be grateful?”
“No. You should answer my question,” she snapped back.
God, how I wanted to stand up, march across the room, and spank the hell out of her. Then I would take her mouth with mine and remind her why she should always be respectful and obedient in my presence. Then, I would bend her over and fuck the hell out of her.
Goddammit. I gripped the arms of the chair, digging my nails into the wood. This situation was going to be more difficult than I’d thought.
“Perhaps we should continue another day,” I said, keeping my voice low and steady while my heart pounded in my chest, my dick getting rock hard as my brain produced images of her bare ass and breasts.
No. I can’t do this again. I can’t be with her. Everything I needed depended on keeping my distance. It was for both our sakes.
“Mack, we made a deal. If you don’t want to continue, then don’t. But then you have to leave.”
I knew that was bullshit. She wanted me to stay. She wanted to see where this would go. Fate was like a drug that had drawn us together.
“I’m waiting, Mack,” she prodded. “Continue with the story or leave.”
I cleared my throat, allowing Theodora to think she had some sort of control over this fucking mess so she’d stay calm. At least for another ten minutes.
“I ended up being taken by a very unfriendly tribe of Nords. They made me a slave, which nearly killed me.” This was the part of my story I’d never told anyone. It seemed pointless to share the misery. Especially with Mia, who would only blame herself for what was to become of me. King would only know what he stole from my head—bits and pieces of memories I’d shoved away in a dark corner of my mind.
“Mack? Exactly how old do you think you are?”
I was wondering when you’d ask that, sweetheart.
~~~
TEDDI
“Have you ever heard of the Minoans?” Mack asked with a dead-serious tone, that deep delicious voice bouncing off the sterile walls.
I uncrossed my legs and thought it over for a moment. I’d been out of school for a very long time, but I had an excellent memory. “Ancient Crete. Pre-Christ. I don’t remember much else.”
Please, don’t tell me you think you’re over three thousand years old. Because that would make him even crazier than I’d thought.
“You know more than most,” he said, seeming pleased.
Yeah, well, I could’ve graduated high school at fourteen if I’d wanted, but I convinced my parents to let me stay one more year. Not that I’d been afraid—impossible for me—but I had been debating on career paths—a coin toss between anthropology and psychology. I would’ve double majored, but the best programs were at different universities.
“I should know more,” I said, “but it’s been a while since I cracked open a history book. But let’s get back to—”
“You wouldn’t find much on the Minoans. They disappeared after I beheaded their beloved king and was forced to flee the island. Civil war devastated them, and any survivors were overrun by mainlanders.”
Oh no. This was what I was afraid of. “So you’re saying you’re…?”