The Darkest Craving

CHAPTER TEN



JOSEPHINA SCRUBBED A rag back and forth over the already-clean upper staircase banister, surprised she hadn’t dimmed...whatever the material was. It looked like starlight and clouds. A chandelier hovered just above her, the rotating streams of opals, sapphires and emeralds attached to nothing but air, casting rainbow flecks in every direction, even the floor many stories below.

I wish I could jump.

Stupid Kane. He should have killed her when he’d had the chance. Now, she was going to make him wish he had. Yes. She liked that plan.

How dare he agree to wed Princess Synda?

Synda would lie to him, and cheat on him. The girl’s desire always burned white-hot, but died quickly. She would chew Kane up and spit him out, and there would be nothing left of him but bones. Bones Josephina had risked her life to save.

How could he want that girl? How could he not see beyond her pretty face?

Stupid, stupid, stupid man! Josephina stomped her foot. Anger was easier than hurt over yet another rejection.

The moment he’d agreed to the wedding, something inside her had cracked. Dark emotions had spilled out. She’d nearly broken down and sobbed. She’d nearly shouted, “He’s mine! All mine!”

But he wasn’t hers, and he never would be.

She, however, might become his.

Would Tiberius give her to Kane, thinking the warrior would punish her rather than his beautiful new wife when she misbehaved? Would Kane actually punish her? If he did...her nails scraped against the rag.

I won’t just make him wish I’d died. I’ll make him wish he had.

Her chin trembled, and she sniffled.

“I want to talk to you, Tinker Bell,” a masculine voice announced.

Jolting out of her wrathful thoughts, Josephina realized Kane stood just beside her. There were two guards behind him, careful to look away from her, shunning her properly, all while keeping watch over their charge and listening unabashedly.

Kane had just spoken eight words to her. Meaning, he’d just bought himself eight lashes of the whip. Josephina wanted him to suffer, but not that way.

“Go away,” she said, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, just in case.

“Give us some privacy,” he said to the guards.

“Anything for you, Lord Kane.” The pair raced to the other side of the hallway.

“You know you’re not allowed to talk to me,” she said. “No one is.”

“You want me to waste a few words telling you I do what I want, when I want? Because I will. I don’t mind.”

Thirty-two lashes. All for nothing! “Shut up, you stupid man.”

His lips twitched at the corners, the bout of amusement confusing her. She’d just insulted him, yet he was battling a laugh? I’ll never understand him.

“Your eyes are back to normal, at least,” she said.

He patted the skin underneath. “They are?”

Thirty-four. She nodded, hoping her silence would encourage his own.

That hazel gaze raked the length of her body, burning her everywhere it touched. Whatever he saw must have angered him, because he ran his tongue over his teeth. “The blood slave thing is the reason you want to die, isn’t it?”

She gave up trying to count his words, and simply replied. It was his back, his agonizing pain; if he wasn’t going to help himself, she wasn’t going to try and do it for him. “Yeah. So? Why do you care?” You’re an engaged man!

“I have no desire to see you hurt.”

And yet, in the past few hours, he’d managed to hurt her worse than all of her whippings combined. “Just leave me alone, all right? You’re not the rock star I thought you were.”

He flinched. “I’m sorry I disappointed you, but everything I’ve done since finding you in the forest, I’ve done for you.”

Pretty words, nothing more. He’d seen Synda and wanted her, just like every other man, and it had had nothing to do with Josephina.

They stared at each other, quiet. He towered over her, as intense and savage as a man could be, and she felt small in comparison...surrounded by his utter maleness. Trapped.

But what a beautiful cage.

Her limbs began to tremble. Her breathing quickened, and she noticed he smelled of the forest he’d found her in. Pine and dewdrops, clean and untainted by the cloying fragrances the Opulens preferred. There was no longer any hint of the roses she’d scented in the motel room.

While on the run, she’d done a little research. Apparently, when an immortal closed in on death, he began to smell like roses.

How close had Kane come?

And why did she long to reach out, to flatten her palms on his chest, to feel his warmth and his strength, to assure herself he was here and he was real and oh, sweet mercy, her blood was heating, and her lips tingling, as if preparing for his seduction. He wasn’t her friend or her boyfriend or even a suitor.

Tensing, he crossed his arms over his chest, clearly expecting her to...what?

“I don’t know what you want from me, Kane.”

“That makes two of us,” he replied darkly, anger firing up his eyes. Frustration tightened the skin underneath, and determination pulled at his lips. He stepped forward, and she stepped back, until the banister stopped any further retreat. “Do you know what you want from me?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Your absence.” Before I crack.

“I don’t believe you. I think you want something...I think you want me. The way you look at me sometimes...”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head.

“I believe we’ve talked about that look.”

“I don’t want you,” she croaked.

“There’s a difference between not wanting a man, and not wanting to want a man. Which is it for you, Tinker Bell?”

She gulped. There was no way she would answer that.

Kane placed a hand at her left and a hand at her right, holding her captive. Tremors nearly rocked her off her feet.

“You make me feel...you make me feel,” he said quietly, fiercely, “and I don’t like it. I want it to stop. Now.”

For the first time in their acquaintance, he frightened her. There was an intensity to him she’d never noticed before, a vibe of uncontrolled danger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His gaze locked with hers, snaring her, drawing her in even while pushing her away. “Don’t you?” A thousand caresses in the dark waited in the softness of his voice.

“I...I...”

A second passed. Another and another. Neither of them moved. They didn’t speak. Just stared. Somehow, those suspended seconds were more intimate than anything else she’d ever experienced. More...electrically charged.

She flattened her hands on his rock-solid chest, marveled at the strength he contained. “S-stay back.” His heartbeat was a wild tumult, just like hers. It was a shock. A revelation.

A pleasure.

He stumbled away from her, breaking the connection, destroying the electrical charge.

It was what she’d wanted. But she hated being without it, she realized.

“What did you and the king discuss?” she asked, trying not to care—but caring anyway.

“You mean your father?”

Her shoulders lifted in the most casual shrug she could manage. “I am what he says I am.”

Kane reached out, as if to caress her cheek. His hand fisted just before contact, and fell away. “We drank some whiskey, smoked some cigars and discussed a few details for an engagement ball to be held in my honor. We played some chess. I won. He pouted.”

A ball. A ball Josephina would have to labor over. She would be forced to set up, then serve the guests food and drinks. The women would put their noses in the air and ignore her, and the men would forget their distaste for her, pat her on the bottom and maybe even try to pull her into shadowed corners. She would have to paste a grin on her face, and pretend all was well in her very dark world.

Meanwhile, Kane would be pampering the already pampered Princess Synda. The unfairness of it clogged her throat, making breathing difficult.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” she said stiffly. “Tiberius is the worst loser of all time.”

He waved her words away. “Let’s talk about your sister.”

Already he was obsessed. Jealousy hit her. Jealousy, and so much hurt she wasn’t sure how she was still standing. “What do you want to know?”

“She’s possessed, yes?”

“Yes. Her husband was the keeper of Irresponsibility and after he died—”

Kane’s lips pulled back from his teeth and a hissing sound left him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, annoyed by an overwhelming surge of concern for him.

“Her husband was possessed by...Irresponsibility, you said?”

“That’s right. For several centuries, he was a prisoner of Tartarus. He died while...you-knowing Synda, and somehow she ended up with the demon. That’s why our race has studied you and your friends so intently. Well, one of the reasons.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “This couldn’t get any worse. William tried to warn me, said I’d have to make choices, but I thought...hoped...and she’s blonde, just like the girl in the painting, and...well, it doesn’t matter. It’s happened. She is who she is. I’ll deal. I’ll figure things out. Somehow.”

Babbling she had no idea how to decipher. “What are you talking about?”

Again, he waved her words away. “You studied us, you said?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Us, meaning me and my friends?”

“Who else?”

“How?”

“Are you sure you want the truth?”

“I am.”

“Fae spies have followed you guys for centuries. They report back and books are published and sold all over the realm.”

“Spies,” he said flatly. “Books.”

“Pictures are drawn. Discussions take place. Fan clubs meet.”

Though his gaze remained on her, his head dropped, his chin nearly hitting his sternum. “Are you a member of a fan club?”

“Of course I am.”

He arched a brow, a command for her to offer more details.

She did. Happily. “I belong to Touch Me Torin.” She sighed dreamily. “He’s so kind and caring, always protecting those around him.”

Kane grabbed her by the upper arms, jerking her into the hard line of his body. The moment he realized what he’d done, he set her back in place, away from him, and lowered his hands, mumbling, “Sorry.”

I’m not. All that strength...

Stop enjoying his touch. Stop craving it. He’s not for you.

“You will stay away from Torin,” he said.

“But meeting him is the one and only thing I wanted to do before I died.”

He closed his eyes, as if praying for patience, and inhaled sharply.

One of the jewels hanging from the chandelier detached and plunged down, shattering on Kane’s head. Cringing, he brushed the pieces out of his hair.

“Okay, that’s never happened before. Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he gritted.

Feeling generous, she said, “Do you want to know the name of your fan club?”

“Not if you’re not part of it,” he said, an edge to his tone.

She wasn’t an official member, no. “Just so you know, Synda’s hobbies include backstabbing, causing trouble and ruining lives. You’ll never be happy with her.”

“She got you sentenced to the Never-ending, didn’t she?” he said. “You. Not her, the keeper of Irresponsibility.” He rubbed at his temples. “That’s how you ended up in hell.”

He seemed to be talking to himself as much as he was talking to her. “Yes. There are many openings to the Never-ending, and one is actually in Séduire. I was pushed inside, fell down the pit for a thousand years, yet only a day passed here. The bottom is the center of hell, and I finally reached it.”

“A thousand years,” he rasped. “Another reason you want to die. You don’t want to endure such torture again.”

Torture. Such a mild word for what had happened. “We’ve all heard the stories about it, but none of them do it justice. In that pit, it’s dark, with no hint of light. Soundless. You can’t even hear yourself scream and beg for help. It’s empty. There’s nothing to anchor you.” She shook her head to dislodge the memories. “No, I don’t want to endure it again.”

A strange vibration moved through him, as if he were barely holding himself back from an act of violence. He paled.

“Kane?”

“I’m fine,” he rasped. And then he shocked her, taking her hand, twining their fingers, holding on to her as if she were a lifeline. The contact only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to make her reel.

To hide her confusion...and her sudden inability to breathe...she returned her attention to her rag, rubbing at the banister. “I’ve got tons of work to do, Kane. I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to leave.”

“Why not kill yourself?” he continued, ignoring her. “Not that I’m suggesting you do such a thing. I’m not, and I’ll make you regret it if you try. I’m just curious.”

“I can’t.”

“Explain.”

She sighed. “Whatever I do to myself brings only suffering, never death.”

His brow furrowed. “What if you managed to remove your head?”

“My body would grow back.”

“No way. One of my friends was beheaded, and there was nothing we could do to save him.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’ll recover.”

“Impossible.”

Josephina peered over the edge of the railing, and gave another sigh. “I’ll prove it.” And in the process, escape the sensations he awoke in her.

Trying to mask her fear, she climbed up the railing.

Behind her, she could hear the stomp of the guards.

Kane grabbed her by the arms, and forced her back to the ground. He was even warmer than before, his grip so deliciously firm. Her skin was suddenly more sensitive, tingling and aching. Her ears picked up every rasp of his breath, and heated. Her eyes drank in the purity of his features, and her nostrils became saturated with the decadence of his scent. Her mouth watered for a taste of...of...him?

“Stay back,” he called. “I’ve got her.”

The men retreated.

“I don’t need a demonstration,” he said to her, his voice tight. “I’ll believe you, whether it sounds far-fetched or not. Okay?”

The crystals in the chandelier rattled powerfully—a second later, the entire thing dropped from the top level and fell down, down, down, crashing into the floor at the bottom. Shards of glass shot in every direction. Screaming people raced out of the way.

Kane cursed under his breath. “Pay no attention to what just happened. Tell me about your problem.”

She nodded, because she didn’t want to think about the mess she would be forced to clean. “However I try to kill myself, I suffer with the pain for weeks, months, even if my organs go splat on the ground. Everything eventually grows back or heals.”

“How is that possible?”

Easy. “You know how I can absorb the abilities of others with a simple touch? Well, Tiberius can impart abilities to others. He imparted this one to me.”

“But what you absorb doesn’t last.”

“What he imparts does,” she replied simply.

He tapped his temples. “What about your ability to invade my head?”

Turning back to her rag so that he wouldn’t see the sudden bead of tears in her eyes, she said softly, “It was my mother’s ability, and she gave it to me right before she died. I guess it stayed with me because it had nowhere else to go.”

“But she was human. How did she possess an ability of a Fae?”

A pang in her heart as she said, “I probably should have qualified my description of her. One of her ancestors was Fae, but the line had become so diluted she was considered human.”

A pause. Then, “You have too much to live for, Tinker Bell, and I don’t want you to seek a killer while I’m here. Got it?”

She would vow no such thing and told him so with her silence.

He leaned down and whispered, “I’ll kill anyone you ask, and I won’t be nice about it. They’ll hurt, and they’ll beg, and they’ll scream, just like you said you did in the Never-ending. Only, their suffering won’t end as quickly as yours did. A thousand years? Try ten thousand.”

Trembling, she gripped the railing. “You have to let me do what I think is right.”

“When what you think is right is actually wrong? No. You’re mine, and I’ll see to you.”

Her gaze jerked up.

His cheeks reddened. The cascade of his warm breath stopped abruptly as he straightened. “I mean, you’re my responsibility now. I want you alive and well.”

You’re mine. Her body had come alive with those words. Her pulse had quickened. Her stomach had quivered. Every inch of her had heated. But the sensations had fled with his addition. She was a responsibility, nothing more.

“What’s wrong?” He pinched a lock of her hair between his fingers, tickling her scalp.

“Nothing.” She batted his arm away. One second he ran hot, the next cold. The next hot. He was twisting her into terrible knots, and she didn’t like it.

He frowned. “Tell me you won’t do anything foolish.”

“I can’t do that. I consider this conversation foolish, and yet I’m still participating.”

He took no offense. “There’s got to be a few things you want to do before you die. Besides meeting Torin.” With the dryness of his tone, he might as well have rolled his eyes.

There was something she wanted to do.... Her gaze fell to his lips. She wanted to kiss him. So bad. She gulped and croaked, “Like what?” Now who’s running hot and cold?

“Like...fall in love.”

Love. Yes. Something she’d craved, especially in the dark of the night, when men came knocking at the door of the room she shared with seven other servants. The women always giggled, thrilled to be summoned, to be kissed and touched and maybe even held afterward.

“Have you ever fallen in love?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

“You’ve had sex, though. A lot.” And she suddenly wasn’t happy by the thought.

He nodded stiffly. “You heard stories about that, too, I guess.”

“A few.” But the spies had only witnessed his public encounters. She wondered what happened when he was behind closed doors, and shivered.

“When was the last?”

The sharpness of the question surprised her. “Story?”

He nodded.

“A year ago. We were told you had a one-night stand.”

He relaxed. “If you’re hoping for an exclusive packed with details, you’re not going to get it.”

“I’m not. If you were Paris, though, I might beg for it.” She smiled with fond remembrance. “Sweet, beautiful Paris.”

“You are really trying my patience, woman. Paris already has a female, one who is very powerful and would not find your yearning amusing.” Kane leaned down, putting them nose-to-nose. “Even if he didn’t, you’re mine. Don’t ever forget.”

This time, he offered no addition, and the warmth returned to her body, speeding through her veins, and oh, sweet heat, suddenly her heart was racing faster than ever before, her bones melting, the rest of her liquefying.

“Your responsibility?” she asked with a tremor.

He tapped her on the nose, irritating her, and said, “I have a lot to think about. I’ll find you later and let you know what I’ve decided.”

“Decided?” She grabbed the sides of his shirt. “About what?”

“You’ll know when I know.” He tugged from her hold and walked away, never looking back.

The guards leaped into action, probably intending to escort him to the king for his whipping. She almost opened her mouth to say she would take the punishment for him. She’d been whipped before, and she could survive being whipped again. But in the end, she let him go. He was Synda’s fiancé now, and Josephina couldn’t allow herself to forget.

Not even when the words you’re mine were echoing in her mind.

* * *

SO. MANY. PROBLEMS.

Kane’s mind whirled. Synda was possessed by the demon of Irresponsibility, but Tinker Bell had spent time in the Never-ending. Synda was blonde, and could very well be the girl in Danika’s painting. But, his pose seemed to suggest he cared about the girl, and it was Tinker Bell, a brunette, his mind and body craved.

Her sad crystalline gaze tore him up inside. Her lips were so lush and red and...lickable. Yeah, that was the perfect word to describe them. Her body was curved in all the right ways—dangerous.

And she wanted Torin. Or Paris.

Once upon a time, he would have been fine with that. She wasn’t the kind of woman he would have wanted. He would have considered her too sweet, too innocent, and no match for Disaster. But Kane would have been wrong. He would have missed out on a very good thing. Yes, Tinker Bell was sweet. Yes, she was innocent. But she was also strong. Resilient.

Perfect.

What Kane felt for her was different than what he’d ever felt for another. It was more intense. Intense enough to overshadow self-disgust and tainted memories, and utterly consume him. He was beginning to like touching her, despite the pain she elicited. But the thought of having sex with her...no.

He would only disappoint her. Memories would overtake him, and he would humiliate himself by vomiting. He wouldn’t be able to please her, but he would have no problem disappointing her. She had lived with enough disappointment. Enough humiliation—she didn’t need his.

He wouldn’t be able to treat her as he’d treated the girls at the club, and just go through the motions. She deserved more. Better. But he wouldn’t be able to give her more and better.

And what would Disaster do if Kane ever got her into bed?

Being so near her, putting his hands on her time and time again, and wanting so badly to kiss her, had finally driven the demon over the edge. Disaster had erupted, roaring with upset, banging against Kane’s skull in an effort to drive him away from her. He’d stayed put, desperate for one more second of her time, her scent, her gaze...the possibility of more contact. And that’s when the chandelier had come crashing down.

Now, he stomped to the bedroom he’d been given, and shut the door in his companions’ faces. He halfway expected the pair to burst inside and ask for his autograph, but they opted to survive the rest of their day. They didn’t know the king had changed his mind about the whipping. That Kane had won their chess game, and the prize had been the freedom to speak with Tinker Bell anytime, anywhere.

He could have told Tinker Bell the truth, but he had liked her concern for him too much. As mad as she’d been at him, she hadn’t wanted him to suffer.

Did she have any idea what that did to him?

No. Probably not.

What was he going to do with that girl?

What was he going to do about the princess?

And, curse it all, why was he even wondering about this? He wasn’t here to find a mate, had even thought to avoid the one the Moirai predicted was his. He leaned against the door, and pushed out a heavy breath. He was here to save Tinker Bell. Afterward, he would kill Disaster. Then, and only then, would he figure out what to do about his future.

So. Just how was he going to save Tinker Bell? If he took her out of Séduire, she would be hunted for the rest of her life. If he killed her royal family, the Fae would strike back at him. They might try and return the favor by killing his family, the Lords. A long, bloody war could erupt, and his friends had enough to deal with.

Frustrated, he stalked forward and slammed his fist into the poster at the end of the bed. Solid gold met bone, and bone lost, splitting in several places. Pain radiated up his arm, and he grinned without humor. The wound would heal. His fury wouldn’t.

Too often lately he’d been without answers, without direction, unsure of what to do or how to proceed. Confusion was a toxic sludge inside him, rising and rising, and he needed to get rid of it.

Hinges on the bathroom door creaked. Kane straightened, assuming a battle stance. Only, it wasn’t an enemy here to attack. It was Synda—utterly naked.

She leaned against the door frame and toyed with the ends of her hair. Short, delicate of bone structure and yet plump of flesh, she presented the perfect picture of feminine carnality. Add a little muscle tone to her, and she was the kind of woman he had once enjoyed.

Mine, Disaster purred.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. This was to be his private room, and that’s the way he wanted it to stay. Private.

“I’m seducing you, of course.” A soft smile lifted the corners of her lips, inviting him to join in her amusement and arousal. There was no red in her eyes, no hint of her demon. “I took one look at you, and knew we were destined to be together. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a man.”

Destined, she’d said. “Have you spoken to the Moirai?”

“I’ve never had the privilege, no.”

He wasn’t sure what to think about that. “And just what is it you’ve wanted in a man, hmm?”

“Strength. Fierce ability. A streak of viciousness when needed. Someone possessed, like me. Someone beautiful.”

Yeah, but she had no idea the price she’d have to pay to be with him, if ever he were interested in her.

He stalked toward her. Her smile grew wider. No question, she expected him to toss her on the bed and ravish her. Instead, he picked her up and unceremoniously hauled her to the door, surprised to find contact with her was not accompanied by pain.

Surprised and irritated. Why couldn’t contact with Tinker Bell be this easy?

“Wait,” she cried. “You just passed the bed.”

He said nothing.

“I don’t mind doing it in public, warrior, but I was hoping to have you all to myself for a while.”

He twisted the knob and pushed at the seam in the wood with his shoulder. The guards were still there, probably commanded to remain all night. They snapped to attention.

“Is there anything we can get you, Lord Kane?”

“Anything at all?”

Tinker Bell stood in front of them, a fact that startled—and delighted—him. Her eyes locked on him, and relief bathed her expression. “Kane, I—” Her gaze fell to Synda, her lips pressing together. The relief faded, leaving the same resentment and hurt he’d experienced himself. “Never mind.”

The princess was her enemy. He got that. But he couldn’t explain himself, couldn’t tell her that he was only using his promise to wed Synda to help her. If the princess learned of his plan, it would fail. She would tell her father, and the king would do as he’d threatened during their game and target Kane for elimination.

“Is something wrong?” he demanded.

Up went Tinker Bell’s chin. “Nope. I’m fine.”

She wasn’t fine. He set Synda on her feet and pushed her forward. “I’m taking you to your room, Princess. And I’m leaving you there. Alone.”

She twisted to face him, flames of red erupting in her eyes. “You’re rejecting me?”

“For now,” he said.

“Oh!” She beat at his chest. “Fetch me a robe, then. This instant!”

And take his eyes off Tinker Bell? No. She would run.

Kane whipped off his shirt and tugged the material over the girl’s head. “There. You’re covered. Let’s go.”

The red disappeared as Synda gaped at him, practically drooling. “So. Many. Muscles.” She reached, intending to brush her fingertips over the ropes in his stomach, but he stepped backward, avoiding any further contact.

Tinker Bell peered down at the floor, refusing to look at him.

“Your room, Princess,” he prompted.

Synda turned with a flourish, ignoring Tinker Bell, and marched away. “Come on. This way.”

He followed, dragging Tinker Bell with him. “You’re not leaving my sight until I know why you came to see me.”

“It doesn’t matter why. I’ve changed my mind,” she snipped.

“Well, change it back.”

She hmphed. “Make me”

Dangerous words. He could already think of several ways to do it.

Synda led them to the top floor of the palace, to a suite of rooms with more riches than a sultan’s treasury. Antique furniture, diamond vases, marble, onyx, every portrait framed in gold, Persian rugs, a table made only of rubies and a massive bed capable of sleeping twelve.

The princess stripped out of the shirt as she strolled to her bathroom. “Bath time,” she called, stopping to look over her shoulder at Kane. “There’s still time to join me.”

“No, thanks.”

The flickers of red returned to her eyes. “I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself.”

Doubtful. “Why don’t you save it for the wedding night instead?” Kane stared down at Tinker Bell, who still wouldn’t meet his gaze yet somehow managed to radiate animosity. “Where’s your room? We’ll talk there.”

Pale, she muttered, “I’m not taking you to my room.”

“I’ll find it with or without your help. It’ll just be better for you if that happens sooner rather than later.”

Her eyes narrowed as she huffed out a breath. “Fine. This way,” and tugged him out of the suite.

Synda called out. He didn’t hear what she said, and didn’t care.

Tinker Bell ushered him down several flights of stairs, into a darker, dank area of the palace. The servants’ quarters, he would bet, and the knowledge angered him. How could the daughter of a king be treated so shabbily?

She stopped in front of an open door, and he peeked inside. Through the darkness, he could see cot after cot, sleeping body after sleeping body, but that was all. There were no luxuries of any kind.

“You’re not staying in there,” he gritted out.

“Uh, yes, I am.”

And know she was uncomfortable while he slept on something as soft as clouds? Never. But he wasn’t going to take the time to argue with her. Once again, he hefted a woman over his shoulder. Unlike the princess, Tinker Bell protested, beating her fists against his back, pounding her knees into his stomach.

“Is that the best you’ve got? If so, you don’t deserve the name Tinker Bell. It’s too masculine for you. From now on, all you’re getting is Tink.”

“Tink! I’m no Tink! I’m more ferocious than a wild animal!”

“A newborn kitten, maybe.”

“Argh!” She bit him on the butt.

For just a moment, the action dropped him straight into hell, and he tripped over his own feet. He caught himself before he hit the ground, and as he fought for breath, he managed to straighten. You’re with Tinker Bell. Your Fae. You’re safe.

“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 union  s 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.”