“Scratch that,” he said, picking up their conversation as if it had never lapsed, hoping she wouldn’t notice the change in his tone. From teasing to tense. “You’re as gentle as a little puppy. I’ll call you Yappydoodle.”
“You...you...slime! I’ll call you Jackhole! Because that’s what you are!”
Jackhole?
He barked out a laugh and then blinked in surprise. How did she always pull him from the brink of despair so quickly? “Now, now. No reason to dirty your tongue with name-calling. I’ll just have to wash your mouth out with—”
My tongue, he silently finished. He was flirting with her, acting as if he was normal. As if he could do normal things.
“Forget it,” he muttered.
She remained quiet, and he remained in this sudden foul mood.
When he came to his chamber, he wasn’t surprised to find the guards were still at their posts.
“Nice to see you again, Lord Kane.”
“Can I get you anything? It would be my pleasure.”
Without a word, he shoved past them and shut the door. Then, he tossed Tink on the mattress. She bounced up and down, and when she stopped, glared over at him.
Leave her! Disaster commanded.
One by one, he discarded the weapons he’d stolen from the king. As the floor cracked beneath his feet, he made sure the blades were within quick reach of the bed.
“What are you doing?” Tink gasped out.
“Getting ready for sleepy night-night time. You should try it.” He was too stressed and tired to find her a room of her own. At least, that’s what he told himself. He wouldn’t consider his inability to part with the girl.
Her mouth formed a small O and, seeing it, he was struck by the desire to kiss it right off her face—to taste her and learn her and brand her. The desires angered him. He was all emotion, no action, and he knew it.
He kicked off his boots, but left on his pants, and climbed onto the mattress.
“We can’t sleep together,” she said with a tremor. “It’s highly improper.”
And probably dangerous. For both of them. “Will you be punished?”
A heavy pause before she said, “For spending private time with precious Princess Synda’s betrothed? What do you think?”
He sighed. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“We’ll see” was all she said.
“You guys seem pretty accepting when it comes to sex. Why was Synda punished for sleeping with the butcher’s son?”
“She’s Fae. He was human. Such unions are prohibited, since they lead to a dilution of the bloodlines.”
“I’m not Fae, yet the king will allow me to wed his precious daughter.”
“You’re a Lord of the Underworld. You’re a celebrity. Rules don’t apply to you.”
Good to know. “Your mother was considered human, which means the king—”
“Yes. It does. So?”
“So. Was he punished?”
“What do you think? He’s the king.” She ran her tongue over her lips, leaving a sheen of moisture behind. Gorgeous. Down, boy. “And you, well, you can have anyone you want without worry, too. Tiberius never chastises upper-class males for their extracurricular activities. They can have who they want, when they want. They just have to be careful.”
He caught the tinge of bitterness in her tone. “Has anyone ever...” Forced you. He couldn’t ask her. He wasn’t sure how he would react if the same question were presented to him.
“No,” she answered, anyway. “I’m only viewed as a sexual object at parties, when men have been drinking, but the most they ever do is pat my bottom.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. I’m certain you’re right. That it takes alcohol to find you attractive.”
“It’s a blessing and curse, I know. But then, I’m a blood slave, and nothing more.”
So innocent. She hadn’t even caught his sarcasm. “What about being amazing and wonderful? I believe you once described yourself that way.”
She flicked her hair over her shoulder, the picture of feminine pique. “I’m a person, too, you know. I deserve compliments every now and then, and since I’m the only one willing to give them to myself, I do.”
That might have been one of the saddest things he’d ever heard. “I think you’re beautiful,” he admitted softly. “And smart. And brave.” And so sexy he would have killed a thousand men and thrown them at her feet just for the chance to woo her...if only he’d been the man he used to be.
Her eyes widened. “You do?”
“Am I in the habit of lying to you?”
“No.”
“So there you go.” He forced himself to relax against the softness of the mattress.
She scooted away, as if she feared what would happen next.
“I’m not going to force myself on you, you have my word.” Gentle. Easy. “You stay on your side of the bed, and I’ll stay on mine, and you’ll leave in the same condition you entered.” And she would be the first.
“It’s still improper,” she grumbled.
“And that argument still isn’t going to sway me. Good night, Tink.” He reached over and extinguished the lamp. Darkness flooded the room.
At first, she did nothing. Then she fluffed her pillow and settled under the covers.
A breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding slipped free.
He peered up at the darkened ceiling, inhaling the sweetness of her scent, holding it, holding it as long as he could, unwilling to give it up until the last possible second. For the first time in weeks, his muscles began to unknot. He thought he might actually be able to fall asleep, to actually rest, and yet, he resisted. Tink would never be witness to his nightmares.
He could lash out. She could try to comfort him. In a dazed state, he could hurt her.
He would rather die than hurt her.
Annnd...his muscles were knotting up again, though it had nothing to do with the past. Tink was here, in his bed. Within reach. All he had to do was stretch out his arm, and his hand could cup the fullness of her breast. Then, slide lower. Lower still. Surely he would not have an adverse reaction to such innocuous contact. She was dressed, after all.
Still. She might respond. Might encourage him.
Might actually ask for more.
He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
Time for a distraction. “So...what’s the name of my fan club?”
“I thought you didn’t want to know.”
“I changed my mind. Apparently that’s allowed in our relationship.”
The sheets rustled as she turned. “Cataclysmic for Kane.”
He told himself to hush. He asked, “You ever been to one of the meetings?”
“I might have stumbled into one...by accident.”
“How many times?”
“Six...teen. Girls get lost very easily sometimes.”
He fought a grin. “So, what were you going to tell me when you reached my room?”
A weary sigh left her. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“It does. By the way, nothing happened between Synda and me.”
“A naked Synda,” she muttered.
He wanted to tell her the truth. But what would happen if he had to do something he didn’t like in order to reach his goal? The truth would then become a lie. He’d be better off keeping all his options open. But the nail in the coffin? A part of him needed to preserve some distance between them, and the engagement created it.
“Maybe, when I came to your room, I was going to tell you I’ve never met anyone as dumb as you,” she said, and he imagined her features scrunched up in what she probably hoped was a snobby expression. “You’re going to hurt so bad when you’re whipped for talking to me.”
Can’t laugh. “I won’t be whipped. The king and I came to an arrangement.”
“What! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were having too much fun counting my words.”
She muttered a few more choice names
for him. “Yeah, well, Synda will be punishment enough, I suppose. She lives for the moment and nothing more. She forgets her every promise. In a few weeks, another man will catch her attention and you’ll be left with a broken heart.”
Resentment blasted from her, and he had to tighten his grip on the pillow to stop from reaching for her. “I may be dumb, but my Spidey-senses are telling me she broke your heart, too.”
She hmphed, as if he were crazy.
“Well?”
She must have been tracing circles on the sheet, because her knuckles brushed against one of his nipples. The contact electrified him, and he nearly shot off the bed.
“Maybe she did,” Tink said, unaware. “Long ago she promised to protect me from our father. Then, the very next day, she was caught stealing horses from visiting Harpies. It started a war, and punishment was decreed, but she said nothing as I was dragged away to be whipped.”
The story doused his lust. “I’m sorry,” he replied, hurting for her. “I really am.”
“Thank you.”
Did she look as sad and exhausted as she had sounded? “I’m going to make things better for you, Tink,” he vowed. Somehow, some way.
She sighed. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“No faith in me?”
“No faith in anyone.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KANE STOOD BESIDE the bed and peered down at Tink. Sunlight streamed in from the window, and, as if drawn to her, enveloped her and her alone. Spotlighting her. Highlighting every luscious nuance. She exuded peace to an astonishing degree. A peace he craved for himself.
She was Sleeping Beauty. Or, more accurately, Cinderella, complete with an evil stepmother and half sister.
Too bad for her, Kane was to be her Prince Charming.
He hadn’t meant to, but at some point, he’d fallen asleep. A nightmare had awoken him—and he’d found Tinker Bell asleep on his chest.
Had she rolled there on her own, or had he pulled her over?
The contact had hurt him in more ways than one. His lust had returned full force.
After he’d eased her aside, he’d been more diligent, and remained awake, listening to her every breath, waiting for her every movement, remembering the way she’d made him smile, dying inside because he’d still wanted to roll over, on top of her, and strip her, and touch her, and do things to her, even though the very thoughts had him fighting back an all-consuming panic.
He didn’t deserve her. His moods were too mercurial. He was happy one minute, ticked off the next. He was decided on a course one minute, confused the next. She needed someone solid. Dependable. Like Torin.
She had no faith in anyone, she’d said, and that was downright sad. Whether Kane deserved her or not, he wasn’t going to let her down.
Kill her, Disaster said. It’s what she wants.
What she wanted wasn’t what she needed.
Tink’s lips parted on a breathy sigh, and his chest constricted. How innocent she was.
Kill her!
Kane turned and stalked from the room, the demon cursing him with every step.
* * *
JOSEPHINA HAD MANY duties, and serving breakfast to the royal family was one of them. A decree straight from Queen Penelope, meant to humiliate her at the start of her day, every day.
Waiting to begin, Josephina pressed against the far wall in the dining room, holding a pitcher of freshly made pomegranate juice. She should have been finished already, should have returned to her housecleaning, but no one had arrived. Everyone was probably busy congratulating Kane and Synda on their upcoming nuptials and the happy couple was probably gorging on the compliments.
Oh, Kane. Everyone’s right. We’re so beautiful together, Synda was probably saying. So perfect together.
I’m perfect for everyone, Kane was probably replying. But I’m glad I ended up with you.
The pitcher shattered in Josephina’s hands.
Cold liquid seeping through the fabric of her gloves and making her gasp, she rushed to the kitchen and gathered the rags she needed, trying to evade Cook’s eye. He welcomed any chance to lash out at her.
Once, as a means of punishment for one of Synda’s crimes, Josephina was starved for a week. Three days in, the hunger pangs had become so severe she’d snuck into the kitchen and stolen a hunk of bread.
Cook had caught her, but had vowed to remain silent if she would spend the night in his bed. She’d turned herself in instead, and he’d never forgiven her.
So, maybe she hadn’t been entirely honest with Kane. Maybe some of the men—other than her brother—did see her as more than a blood slave.
Annnd...Cook cleared his throat, and she glanced over.
“What did you do now? What new problem have you caused me?” He stomped over to her. He grabbed her by the wrist, only to rear backward with a wheeze. “You’re wet.”
“And your cooking sucks. So?”
“How dare you! I don’t care who you are, you will not insult my divine cuisine.”
“I just did.”
“Do it again. I dare you.”
Okay. “Your pies are flavorless, and your cakes are hard as rocks.”
His palm flew up and out, swiping over her cheek. Her skin instantly flamed, stinging. Josephina slapped him back. As he gurgled his outrage, she blew him a kiss and flounced away.
Maintaining a brave face, she cleaned the mess in the dining room and donned a fresh pair of gloves. Only after she had made a new pitcher of juice, with Cook avoiding her, did she return to her post.
The royal family still hadn’t arrived.
Inconsiderate toads!
She flinched at the uncharacteristic outburst. The ache in her cheek must be making her cranky. And, well, Kane had no business marrying Synda after he’d forced Josephina to spend the night in his room. He should have called off the nuptials with the rising of the sun!
And I never should have gone to him. Never should have thought to take him up on his offer, hoping to get him away from Synda.
Josephina had been mad about his engagement before, but standing there, thinking about last night, she became enraged. Kane probably didn’t remember, but he’d suffered from terribly violent nightmares last night. He’d cried out and he’d thrashed, but she had managed to calm him.
She had. Not Synda.
He’d held her for a long moment, his arms tight around her, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go, then he’d rolled her to her side of the bed. Obviously, he’d gotten over his aversion to touch somewhat—and yet, he hadn’t tried to kiss or touch her.
He must be saving that kind of thing for the princess.
Why did that tear her into so many ragged pieces?
An engaged man shouldn’t share a bed with anyone but his intended, and anyone that did should be...should be...castrated!
I could help him with that, she thought. I have no experience with knives, but a quick slice and dice shouldn’t be a problem.
Contemplating mutilation? I don’t know who you are anymore.
I’m you, dummy.
What if Kane was already in love with Synda?
Why do you care?
I don’t. Okay, fine. I do.
She had lain awake for hours, trying not to enjoy her first taste of luxury, all the while hoping to sneak out of the bedroom the moment Kane fell asleep. But he’d lain awake for hours, too, and her eyelids had eventually become too heavy to hold up. Then, his thrashing had woken her, and she’d cuddled him, and she’d liked it far more than she should have. Had even been tempted to ask for more.
If Synda found out...
She raised her chin and focused on the here and now. Four small chandeliers dripped with hundreds of opals and hung over a long, square table hewn from gold, diamonds and sapphires. The chairs were carved in the shape of dragons, with cobalt velvet lining the seats. Colorful murals of naked, frolicking Fae decorated the walls, and a soft white rug lined the floor.
There were three windows,
each overlooking the flower garden out back. She adored that garden, and allowed herself a peek outside—wait. Armed guards were running toward the gate.
Something was happening. What—
King Tiberius strolled inside the room at long last, his latest mistress on his arm. Josephina snapped to attention. The mistress was lovely, to be sure, but only seventeen years old. She’d had a bright future before the king had taken notice of her, and most likely would have married the richest of the Opulens; she would have had a family and never would she have wanted for anything.
Except, perhaps, love and fidelity.
But now, no man would have her, not even the lowest of the servants. When the king discarded her, and he would, no one would want to risk his ire by pursuing what he suddenly deemed “unworthy.”
The king’s expression was troubled as he claimed the seat at the head of the table. He motioned for the scantily clad female to take the seat at his left—the queen’s seat. Josephina groaned. Queen Penelope knew of the king’s affairs, of course she did, everyone knew; in public, she simply pretended not to care. But in private, when only Josephina was around, she ranted and raged.
“—not sure why an army of Phoenix warriors are attacking us,” the king was saying. “Do they really want to start another war? They have brute force, but they haven’t the numbers.”
Oh, no, no, no. If the Phoenix were here, they were here for Josephina. And if her father found out she was the reason, he would unleash a torrent of wrath upon her.
A tremor rocked her, and liquid sloshed over the sides of the pitcher.
Tiberius cast her a reproachful glance.
“You have nothing to fear, my darling,” he continued, patting his mistress’s delicate hand. “The soldiers will be dead by the end of the day, their heads sent back to their people.”
“Thank you, Majesty” was the soft reply. The girl kept her gaze downcast. “You’re so strong. Utterly undefeatable.”
Kane strolled inside, and Josephina quivered with the memory of his embrace. His savage beauty had never been more apparent than at that moment, as morning light streamed over him. The two guards were stationed at his back. His gaze swept the area, and Josephina was certain he’d somehow managed to catalog every detail at once, though she fought a wave of disappointment when he simply skimmed over her.
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