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During those episodes, she actually felt a kinship with him. Weird, right? Proof she wasn’t quite there, maybe.
His voice was the vocal equivalent of kerosene, and his intensity a lit match. In a handful of minutes, he’d set her ablaze with a thousand different desires and fears. His every touch electrified her, as if she’d been preprogrammed to react to him. His scent drugged. The greedy way he watched her, as if he’d never observed a more fascinating creature, bolstered her confidence. I can survive this.
What’s more, she’d kind of enjoyed chatting with him, despite their ups and downs. He’d offered information she’d desperately sought, and every so often, he’d made her feel gloriously safe. Even—shockingly—normal.
Did he truly wish to help her?
“Look. Sex is one hundred percent off our table.” For starters, she had never used her body as payment for anything, and she wasn’t starting now, probably. Second, sleeping with someone you needed was stupid. He might lose interest afterward. Or obsess. He was a killer, and she had enough trouble controlling her own dark side. She didn’t need to go and add his to the mix, muddying the waters of self-control further. “That’s never going to change.”
“Should I escort you about this realm for free?” He used his silky tone again. She didn’t know if the danger had passed or escalated. “I do have duties to attend to. I’m sure there are other damsels in distress I can save. Those who are more amenable to my requests.”
Oh, that burned. “Do you plan to proposition them all?” she snipped, irritated that he’d lumped her into the same category as the helpless maidens of lore. “If you’re ready to get realistic with your payment options, I’m ready to bargain. But ticktock, Claw Man.” She tapped the wristwatch she wasn’t wearing. “I’m only wasting two more minutes on this conversation. Then I jet.”
He executed a slow blink. “Did you refer to me as Claw Man?”
Yeah. So? “My teammates get nicknames, or they aren’t my teammates. We’ll need a uniform, by the way.”
He narrowed his eyes. “The word teammate implies we are equals. We are not. I make demands, and you obey them. That is how our relationship will work.”
Cookie bristled. “You can’t just decide you’re team leader.” The nerve! “My tough-as-nails, decisive manner and no-nonsense approach to battle inspires confidence in others. When I have a vision, I make fast decisions, and I never veer off track, mostly. I should be considered for co-captain at least.”
Kaysar was better suited as the muscle. The perfect meat shield. With him, she’d have the best chance of finding another doormaker. And also convincing said doormaker to aid her, free of charge.
“Clock’s about to run out, Kaysar,” she said, impatient to get this partnership sealed and the show on the road. Or to just get the show on the road. Either way, she was getting some action.
Behind him, the sky darkened as suddenly as if someone had flipped a switch. Lightning blazed, a flash there and gone, illuminating her companion’s impossibly sexual face and war-god body—her heart skipped a beat. Dang. He was beyond sexy-scary.
Thunder boomed, a sudden storm rolling in. The instant change in weather startled her, though she wasn’t sure why. This kind of thing happened in The Forest of Good and Evil, too. The designer must have lived here.
Yes, Mother. Video games did provide me with a proper education for my future.
Her companion’s anger—if that’s what he currently displayed—dissipated as icy raindrops descended. “Fate is trying to tell you something, princess.” He offered a tight grin. “Traverse the Forest of Many Names during a storm without my protection? Tsk-tsk. Do you want to die?”
“So it’s raining. Big deal.” Droplets splashed her face...the rest of her. In seconds, she was chilled to the bone. Teeth chattering, she said, “Rain or not, I’m finding a doormaker, and I’m not sleeping with you. And don’t call me princess.”
The day she signed on as Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty was the day she retired. Hero complex? No, thanks. She’d rather not be burdened with one of those.
Even as a child, she’d gravitated toward characters like the Mad Hatter and Maleficent. Actual role models who’d gotten things done.
“But you are a princess.” Amid another flash of lightning, Kaysar appeared a whisper away. She gasped as his hot palm seared her nape and his hard body pressed flush against her curves. “You are my princess.”
The claim and the contact thrilled her for all the wrong reasons.
Focus. “Did you teleport?”
“We call it flittering.”
“Flittering,” she echoed. Why did he have to be so deliciously warm? So wrong for her?
He “craved” Lulundria. Oh, yes, and this Drendall, whoever she was. Another princess? Whatever. Bottom line: Cookie wasn’t Lulundria. When Kaysar accepted the truth, he might revolt. Best to curtail all sexual thoughts and urges with him.
