Heartless

by Gena Showalter

  Hador scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry for what occurred between us, Kaysar. So incredibly sorry. You must know that.”

  Do not close the distance. Do not rip out his heart. He deserved only suffering heaped upon suffering.

  Kaysar schooled his features. “Ah. We’ve reached the excuses portion of our interactions. My least favorite, I must admit, but please. Do continue. This always precedes your harm by my hand.”

  A lone tear slid down the king’s cheek, quickly followed by another. “I assure you, I’ve paid for my crimes a thousand times over.”

  “Do tell. Fill my ears with your miseries.”

  A muscle jumped in Hador’s jaw. He offered no response, just heaved his breaths.

  Because he was a liar, and he had not paid enough.

  “I’ve changed,” the king insisted. “I’ve learned the value of life.”

  “You’ve learned the value of nothing.”

  Once again, the doors burst open. Everyone turned to face the newest intruder. Kaysar went still as a stern-faced Chantel marched into the room. She’d anchored her mass of sable hair into a severe knot at her nape. Not a single strand of pink. A voluminous black robe draped her.

  He shot to his feet, aware of a hammering pulse migrating through his body. Such power. Such passion and beauty. She was a fae queen without equal. A velvet-covered blade. A woman beyond compare, and every sexual fantasy he’d ever had come to life.

  Why hadn’t he savored her these past nights?

  Why hadn’t she savored him?

  The fierce glaze in her mercury eyes struck him as slightly demented, and he nearly dropped to his knees to worship at her feet.

  She climbed the dais steps and crossed over, stopping at the throne. She held his gaze, telling him with a firm voice, “Please, excuse me.” The request fit her actions but not the added weight in her tone, as if she asked for multiple pardons at once.

  He moved aside, waving toward her throne and bowing his head. “Your majesty.”

  She sat with quiet authority, magnificent with her back ramrod straight. “Shall we proceed?”

  Vines shot from the floor, marble slabs flying. The stalks snagged the two men and their guards in punishing vise-grips. Poisonvine thorns injected venom directly into their veins, preventing them from flittering. Or moving. Wet crimson dripped upon emerald leaves.

  “Micah,” she said, using that same uncompromising tone, “I’ll start with you.”

  As the thorns retracted, the frozen man eked out, “What gives you the right—”

  “The Dusklands are mine,” she interrupted sharply. “I can do what you never could. Revitalize the land. Perhaps you heard the laughter outside on your way in? Or noticed the garden? It’s the first of many.”

  The pounding cadence in his head that screamed for retribution...weakened as she spoke. Kaysar was unsure what was happening. Or how. Whatever it was...soothed his battered mind.

  Micah scowled, saying nothing.

  Chantel banged a fist on the arm of the throne. “With that settled, the First District Court of the Dusklands is now in session. The perfect Judge Cookie presiding. Micah the Former King, how do you plead?”

  * * *

  A CAULDRON OF rage boiled inside Cookie. What Hador and his brother had done to young Kaysar sickened her. The Winter king would be dealt with. Soon.

  After her visions of Kaysar’s past, she understood him so much better. He stood beside her, a strong tower. And yet he’d never needed her more. Today, he settled his case. Tomorrow, she settled hers.

  Had the peek into the past steered their future, as she’d feared? Oh, yes. Everything changed today.

  Cookie frowned as the silence stretched on, everyone looking at everyone else for answers. She waved an imperious hand. “This is the part where you enter your plea, Micah.”

  “Plea for what?” he demanded. “I plead for nothing.”

  “You are charged with the crime of attacking the future and current king and queen of the Dusklands upon their arrival. Fair warning. I’m also the witness of the crime, so I’m going to be difficult to sway.”

  Micah bellowed, “You are not the king and queen of—”

  “So you plead guilty?” She scanned the room and nodded. “Everyone else heard guilty, yes?”

  “We attacked the maddened king who randomly appears in the Dusklands to ravage our fields and destroy our beasts,” he spat. “The help and the hindrance we will hide from no longer.”

  “Well. We didn’t learn the main lesson, I see. Do not screw with the evil king—his girlfriend might be worse.” She dropped her chin, pinning him with her stare. “Are you willing to war for these lands, Micah?”

  “Yes,” he offered simply, making it clear he meant it. “I’ve only begun to fight, princess.”

  “Your Honor,” she corrected him.

  He frowned, his eyes narrowing. “I have resources I have yet to tap.”

  “That’s good. Because so do I. I won’t back down, and I’ll never surrender. I will always protect what’s mine. No,” she added when he opened his mouth to respond. “Let me finish. You are hereby pardoned of your crime.”

  When his brow furrowed, she explained, “You strike me as an honorable guy. Granted, I’m not an amazing judge of character, only an amazing judge. You fought for your land to the best of your ability, but you lost. Twice. You cannot give my people what they want and deserve, so I won’t return them to your care. Take the pass and be grateful I’ve cleared your slate. One day, we might be allies. But come at me and mine again, and the real battle begins.”

  Thanks to her connection to the vines, she had no trouble flittering Micah to the swamplands. He could deal with the swamp monster she’d been hearing about.

  With the first docket cleared...the time had come for the second and last. Kaysar’s choice, whatever it was, decided their relationship.

  Her vines squeezed Hador so tightly his face mottled. “No need for a trial. The verdict has come in. Guilty as charged.” She cast her gaze to Kaysar. “You decide his sentence, baby. We kill him here, together, or I let him go today, so you can continue your vengeance tomorrow.”

  Did he understand what she asked? The choice came with consequences, whatever he decided. Be with Cookie, or without her. They’d run out of side options.

  If he needed the connection to his sister, so be it. His life, his choice. She would clear the path of debris, and offer him a future. But she wouldn’t be second or third place any longer.

  Cookie judged herself worthy of more, too.

  She purposely kept her features blank of any emotion, unwilling to sway his response.

  Sweat dotted his upper lip. His gaze darted between Hador and Cookie. He aimed fury as his past abuser, and desperation at her. Anxiety rippled from him in waves.

  Elation swelled in her heart as he stepped closer to her. Then he heaved a tired breath, and she feared the worst. He wasn’t ready to give up his quest for retaliation, was he? Not for her. Not even for himself.

  Profound disappointment gave way to gut-wrenching hurt, but she revealed none of it. Smiling softly, she told him, “It’s okay. There is no wrong answer, Claw Man. What you want, you get. That is my gift to you.”

  “Vengeance,” he croaked, his expression savaged. “Tomorrow.”

  Sliced to ribbons, hemorrhaging inside, she held the smile and flittered Hador into the swamplands, next to a fuming Micah. Enjoy with my compliments.

  Kaysar had made his choice.

  Now, they would both live with it.

  “What did you do with him?” he asked as his breathing evened out.

  “Don’t worry. He’s alive.” It took some effort, but Cookie bottled up her hurt and placed it on a shelf in the back of her mind. Audience forgotten, she stood and molded herself against the man she loved beyond any do
ubt or reason, her palm flattened over his racing heart.

  His breath hitched, and he tentatively wound his arms around her, as if he feared her reaction.

  One last night. Desire surging, she rasped, “Take me to bed, Kaysar.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  KAYSAR FLITTERED CHANTEL to their bedroom, materializing at the foot of the bed, but he didn’t kiss her. Not yet. His instincts were pinging again, telling him trouble brewed. But she peered at him with such fervent desire as candlelight bathed her delicate features, he told himself he was mistaken. Only pleasure waited in his future, his dreams coming true right before his eyes.

  He had his mate, and he would continue to have his vengeance, the two no longer at odds. Kaysar could hurt Hador Frostline during the day and enjoy Chantel at night. What male in all of Astaria would lead a better life?

  His joy knew no bounds. Except for that damningly persistent ping. And a small kernel of unease...set within a larger pod also filled with kernels of disappointment and despair. And he didn’t know why.

  Now wasn’t the time to dissect every thought and emotion. He’d missed Chantel too much to lose himself to fear.

  Gently smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear, he told her, “You were magnificent today. A fierce protector of your land, and your male.”

  “I know.” With a sensual maneuver he would forever replay in his fantasies, she shimmied out of the robe. The dark cloth puddled on the floor as Chantel stood proud before him, wearing azure lace over her breasts and between her legs. Miles and miles of creamy skin, flushed with arousal—and marked with a crimson map.

  He looked her over, amazed. Humbled. Awed. When he returned his gaze to hers, her irises were set aflame, blazing with wildfire. “You drew this yourself?” he asked, voice breaking at the edges.

  “I used dye the servants made with my roses. It’s the reason I was late to tonight’s festivities. Well, one of the reasons. The map details the palace. The mystical doorway. The treasure troves. I wanted to be perfect for you, no matter what you decided.” A pause. Then, “Do you like it?”

  His gaze shot back to hers, the fire in his irises brighter. “I will never part from you. Woe to anyone who tries to take you from me.”

  Something shuttered over her eyes, and his heart skipped a beat. Then she purred, “Do you want me naked, Kaysar?”

  He forgot every thought but one. “I need you naked, sweet.”

  He watched, mesmerized, as she freed her hair from confinement, the dark tresses tumbling into place. The mind-boggling things he felt in that moment... He nearly staggered at the extraordinary weight of them.

  “Let me tell you what I need,” she breathed, her eyes hooding. “Your kiss. Your touch on every inch of me. Love my body in a thousand different ways and help me forget the hours we spent apart before and the hours we’ll spend apart next. Give me everything you promised. Hold nothing back.”

  Next? The honeyed scent of her desire frayed his control, and he pushed aside his foreboding. “Everything. Nothing,” he croaked. She’d utterly consumed his thoughts. “Show me more.”

  She trembled a little as she unhooked the upper garment, bearing her beautiful breasts and their tight ruby nipples. A groan lodged in his throat.

  “The rest. Let me see the rest.” Missed her so much. Missed this. The sweet exchange. The sense of communion. The utter peace of passion, every other facet of him shut off.

  She dragged her panties down with a waggle of her hips. The cutest kick flung the material away. Then she stood before him, bare.

  And he’d thought her proud before. Head high, shoulders back and those lush breasts thrust up for his view, awaiting his caress. “I will play with your body until you scream for me,” he boasted. To seal his vow with a kiss, he dipped his head and sucked on one straining crest, then the other.

  Her moan of surrender echoed as she shoved her fingers into his hair. He kissed his way up her sternum. The length of her throat. Straightening, he met her gaze. Dilated pupils, glassy irises. He loved how quickly and intently she desired him.

  “I’ll brand your body until you never forget me,” she boasted back.

  Awareness crackled in the space between them, the pull stronger than ever before. But even then, he felt as if she were slipping from his fingers. No. He wouldn’t let her. With a snarl, he cupped her backside and her nape in unison, forcing her closer.

  * * *

  COOKIE OPENED UP, eagerly greeting Kaysar’s tongue with her own. She moaned her pleasure, overcome.

  He eased the tempo of his kiss, as if her reaction soothed some ferocious beast inside him. Fast and uninhibited became slow and deliberate, every stroke of his tongue a sensual onslaught.

  Possessive. Primal. Ruthlessly...gentle? To gentle her?

  He wasn’t kissing her anymore. He was making love to her mouth. Seducing her until she had no air in her lungs. Until she couldn’t survive without him and didn’t want to try.

  With an expertly executed movement, he kicked her feet apart and inserted his knee between her thighs. Leather razed her aching clitoris, and she cried out at the exquisite bite of bliss.

  Panting a little, he lifted his head and pressed his fevered brow to hers. “You are precious to me. Tell me you know that. Tell me you know I will freely die for you.”

  “I do know.” She truly did. But she would rather he lived for her. “You are precious to me, too. I love you. One hundred percent.”

  Whiskey eyes soft but fierce, he rasped, “You love me?”

  “So much.” Her legs teetered, almost too weak to hold her body upright. She settled more of her weight onto Kaysar’s thigh. So good, but need more. Cookie...moved. Yes! She undulated against him, riding his thigh. The friction built. “Feels so good, baby.”

  His eyelids hooded at the endearment. “You want more of me?”

  “I want all of you.” The tattoos on his chest snagged her gaze. Mmm. Going to lick him there. There. Everywhere.

  “The way you look at me.” His calloused palms rocked her against him, wringing a gasp from her.

  Groaning, he pressed his mouth to hers. The first foray of his tongue nearly undid her. He took bold swipes, dismantling her control, and oh, he tasted better and better, every note sweeter. She trembled and ached and fought for breath she couldn’t catch. How she burned.

  Cookie tore at his clothes. When he stood naked before her, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his shaft.

  He picked her up and eased her onto the mattress. The kiss deepened as he braced his fists at her temples. Then, he raised his head, revealing wild eyes and puffy lips.

  “I love you, too,” he rasped.

  The words jump-started her heart, throwing the organ into an erratic rhythm. He loved her, and she rejoiced. She also fought the urge to sob. He loved her, she knew he did, but he didn’t love her enough.

  Her mind shied away from thoughts of tomorrow. They had tonight, and she would savor every second.

  “Kaysar,” she breathed as he settled his delicious weight over her. He kneaded her breasts and pinched her nipples the way she loved, pleasure and pressure crashing again and again.

  For minutes and hours and days and weeks and only a split second, he worshipped her body, kissing and licking and kneading and branding each part of her. His touch was tender and rough and brutal and gentle, and she adored it. She craved all of him, each side of him equally. And yet, in a matter of hours, she would tell him goodbye.

  A strangled sound erupted from them both when he plunged a finger inside her. Helpless against the bombardment of sensations, she arched and clutched at him, clinging. Desperate. “Kaysar. Love. Give me more.”

  “The things you make me feel,” he breathed, working her. His features were agonized, his drive to come as ferocious as hers. Tendons strained and protruded.

  The head of his shaft graze
d her leg, leaving a trail of wet fire, and she shivered. Shameless, she writhed beneath him. “More.” A command. A plea.

  “Is this enough for my sweetling?” He fed her a second finger, and she groaned.

  “More.” She thrashed as the pad of his thumb circled her clit. “I’m so close.” There. Right there. There, there, there.

  “My insincerest apologies for what’s about to happen, your majesty.” The diabolical king took his thumb away from her. And his fingers. Argh! As she beat her fists into his shoulders, he grinned with savage, devilish delight. “You don’t get your pleasure until I get my screams.”

  Frenzied mindlessness teased her. “Make me come, Kaysar. I need it. Just one? A small one? I promise I’ll scream so loud.”

  He cupped the sides of her face, tracing his wet thumb over her bottom lip. “You could not be more precious.” Though he used a coaxing tone, he looked far from relaxed, sweat slickening his brow and trickling from his temples.

  “Perhaps you’ll scream only when you come,” Kaysar pondered. He licked away the desire he’d deposited on her mouth and rocked his hips, grinding his rigid length against her core. “Perhaps I’ll continue your torment all night long.”

  She gasp-groaned. “Want you in me now. Please, love. Please. I need you. I ache so bad.”

  “All right, sweet. Let’s ease your hurt.” Holding her gaze, he finally, finally, finally pressed his thumb against her clit again and slid one—two—fingers inside her. “But sweetling? I’m afraid it’s not going to be enough.”

  Relief parted her lips. Filled again.

  He plunged his fingers in and pulled out. In. Out. Scissoring. Stretching. Cookie bowed her back and moaned as a powerful orgasm rolled through her, her sheath squeezing him. An avalanche of heat and pleasure crashed into her, gaining speed. But he was right; it wasn’t enough. Her need was simply too great.

  “I want more.” Did she sound drugged to him? “I know I didn’t scream, but let me show you how much I love you. Won’t that be nice?”

  “I’ll show you how much I love you.” He flipped her onto her hands and knees. Rising up behind her, he urged her face toward a pillow, forcing her backside higher. With one hand, he clutched her hip. With the other, he massaged the head of his shaft against her swollen clit. “I will go so deep you’ll feel me in every part of your body.”