Mack (King #4)(6)

CHAPTER FOUR





Mack. His name was Mack. But the way he’d said it, it could’ve been Satan or Dark Angel or the name of some mythological creature born from temptation where one’s sinful fantasies were fulfilled.

“Mack,” I repeated, drinking it in.

“Yes. And you should leave here before it’s too late.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” I asked, trying my best to sound serious versus condescending and skeptical. These new emotions were like crazy little f*ckers shooting off firecrackers in my head.

“You might die.”

Okay. Not encouraging. “Meaning, you intend to kill me?” I tried moving toward the emergency call-button to the side of the door—every room had one—but the novel sensation of a hot messy panic had my feet stuck to the floor.

Another long, tense moment passed, and I felt genuinely torn between jumping right into treating this disturbed man and helping myself. Of course, I wasn’t sure how to do either. Not enough information. And then there were all of the things going on inside my body. Every frantic heartbeat, every shallow breath made me feel alive for the first time. The only way to describe it was like that scene in the Wizard of Oz. Black and white shifting to Technicolor. So even if I wanted to walk away, I couldn’t. The brilliant colors were what had always been missing from my life.

“I would never harm you. Intentionally, anyway. But the threat I refer to is my curse,” he said, with a bleak seriousness that had me believing him for one sad mental-moment. However, this man was delusional. Plain and simple.

“So this curse will cause you to kill me,” I concluded.

“Let’s just say that it makes me a hazard.”

“So then why are you here?” I asked, probing for any possible insights into his mind. “Why not just run off and live in the mountains so you don’t risk hurting anyone?”

“Because I’ve come here to die,” he stated coldly.

All right. I had not been expecting that answer. Of course, logic would say there were a million other places to die.

My conclusion?

The man knew he was not well and wanted to live. He wanted help. There was simply no other reason for him to be here.

As for me, the effect this man had—unlocking some corner of my mind that allowed me to feel intense emotion—had no explanation. But I needed to separate the two. Whatever was going on with me didn’t concern him.

“Then I would like to help you break this curse, Mack,” I said to placate him. “I would like to help you live.”

“I cannot be helped.”

“I know you might feel that way, but I’m the only one truly qualified to make that determination.”

He laughed. “You should leave now. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I know you’ve come here because—”

“Make no mistake, Dr. Valentine, I am here to die. In peace. And hopefully soon before they find me.”

“They who?”

He did not reply.

I let out a breath, thinking this over. I needed him to start talking. I needed to see the world through his eyes so I could fix him.

“In that case, you can stay for as long as you like,” I lied. Everyone had to leave eventually. “However, there’s a price.”

“I already paid.” He sounded displeased, but not the sort of way a normal guy might. There was a bite of menace in his voice. I couldn’t let that get to me.

“Not good enough. But I’ll make you a deal; if you tell me more about your curse, you can stay.”

“Just as long as I chat with you,” he said, sounding amused.

“Yes. I want to hear how it happened.”

“You will not believe it.”

“Thinking for me, are you?” I replied.

He was silent, so I hoped that meant he was mulling over my proposal, but I wanted to see his face and know for sure. I reached for the lights.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned.

I pulled back my hand, remembering what happened the last time. But that had all been in my head. Right?

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll leave the lights off for the time being. Do we have a deal?”

“It is your life. But are you so certain you’re willing to risk it for simply hearing my story?”

Ah yes. Because he believed I would die if I spent time with him.

“We’ll begin on Monday.” I turned to leave, attempting one last time to get a look at his face. A shadow, a hint, a something.

Nada.

“I look forward to it.” He dipped his head, and a sliver of light peeked through the curtains, catching the side of his face. The stubble-covered jaw was strong and angular. His cheekbones were chiseled works of man-art.

My heart raced and my mind—without any warning—filled with hot, hard, simmering sensations that felt like an erotic drug. That, of course, was where I had to put my mental foot down. Chaotic situation or not, there were some lines that should never be crossed, like murder, hitting children, or kicking puppies. Having sexual feelings for a patient was also on that list somewhere.

“I look forward to it, too, Mack.” I left, eager for the light outside that felt like my personal sanctuary, a place where I could breathe again. But as soon as I got into the hallway, the need to go back into that room and bathe myself in that delicious darkness called Mack overwhelmed me.