Mack (King #4)

“Yes.”


“Ohmygod.” I jumped up and ran to him, throwing my arms around his neck. I kissed him with everything I had—my heart, my soul, and every ounce of passion. He kissed me back, and yes, he was buck naked, but this wasn’t that kind of moment or that kind of kiss. It was pure and simple, a need to be touched and held and comforted. It was two people testing their sanity to ensure that what was in front of them was real.

After several long moments, I pulled away, my eyes tearing like crazy. “Is it gone? The curse?”

He nodded. “Yes. Though, I’m not exactly sure how, because I couldn’t move past this place. I felt it clinging to me until the very last moment.” He looked behind me at his dead brother lying in the dirt. “I think…”

Saying that he looked sad would be the understatement of the century. He looked absolutely devastated.

“I’m so sorry, Mack. I tried to stop him.”

“I know. I saw the whole thing,” he said.

“You did?” I sniffled.

He nodded. “Yes, and I should’ve known my brother wouldn’t let me go peacefully.”

“But we can use the chal…” My words faded along with the idea as I noticed that the chalice was gone, a small crater left in its place. Ohgod. Where did it go? I blew out a breath, trying to hold it together. I was crushed for Mack, yet I was elated to have him back. Did that make me greedy or uncaring? I didn’t know. But all I could do was look at this beautiful man who’d I’d loved before this version of me was even born. It was all too surreal for words.

I stared in wonder at this new perfect body that looked just like his original.

“You can’t stare at me like that. Not here,” Mack said.

I cleared my throat. “Let’s get you some clothes.”

Never in a million years would I begin to understand how something like that chalice worked, so I would end up doing myself a favor and simply calling it magic. Later, much, much later, Mack would try to explain it in terms of particle theory, matter cohesion, and energy fields, which normally would’ve rung my brainy-bell, but was still too outlandish and landed me back in the “magic bucket.” For the time being, however, none of that would matter, because the facts were the facts: We buried King that day, right alongside Mack’s old body. Mack was heartbroken, but wasn’t ready to let me heal him from this or any of his painful baggage from the past. Watching him bury his twin was the saddest moment I could remember living through.

“What are you going to tell Mia?” I asked, wishing that I could be there in Greece when she heard the news that the man who’d loved her for three thousand years was dead. Again.

Mack looked deeply troubled as he scratched the back of his head. “I’m going to tell her the truth. All of it.”

I grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Drive me to the airport and then wait for me.”

I looked at him, trying to puzzle it out.

“I must tell her the news face to face,” he elaborated.

“I should go with you.”

“No. I want to do this alone. But I will let her know you are there to help if she needs it.”

I had to wonder if part of the reason he didn’t want me there was that Mia might feel I was responsible in some way. Had I not killed Mack, none of this would’ve happened. I hoped that wasn’t the case, but if it gave her any sort of comfort, I could live with taking the blame.

We got into the car and drove away with Mack at the wheel. And I swear, as crazy as it sounded, I felt like someone was watching us until we hit the main road.

“Mack? Do you think King will find a way back again?”

He shook his head. “This isn’t like before when he had hope of seeing Mia again and lifting his curse. She won’t ever be able to look at him again when she finds out about Talia, no matter the reason.”

Yes, I had told Mack everything that happened, everything we went through to get that chalice. He wasn’t happy about it, but the fact that King was willing to sacrifice everything—his marriage, his family, his dream of happiness, and his life—was a testament to how deeply he cared and how deeply he loved.

It left me speechless, frankly. And it made me realize how big these two men’s hearts truly were.

I looked away from Mack and focused my teary eyes on the road. “There has to be a way to get him back,” I muttered, half-thinking aloud.

“The spirits who sit on that land will never let him leave. A deal was struck, and it’s irrevocable. He has the choice to pass over to the other side or stay there.”

If anyone would know, it was Mack.

“Still,” he said, “I won’t ever stop trying.”

With a bond like these two brothers had, it was something I didn’t doubt.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE





Two weeks later.

Mimi Jean Pamfiloff's books