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She darted her gaze between the two gowns. The green. Something about it called to her...
For once, she didn’t startle as buttery material tightened on her curves. Though she waited, expectant, she noticed no change in her mood or mindset. Did that mean anything? Or nothing? Breathing deep, she donned matching jewelry.
“Chantel?” Kaysar choked out from somewhere nearby.
He had returned.
Her heart skipped a beat as she lifted her gaze and discovered him mere feet away. She looked him over and cut off a whimper. Blood splattered him from head to toe, and it was a good look for him.
Sexy good.
But then, she looked sexy good, too.
A spring of simmering confidence poured through her, and Cookie imbibed of its waters deeply. The dress’s doing? Oh, who cared? Self-assurance had fused with her bones, gifting her with a core of iron.
She smiled slowly. Coldly. “Tough day at the office, dear?”
He perused her, his eyes blazing and his jaw clenched.
A bead of water dripped from the tip of her sable locks to her nipple—a nipple drawing tighter as he watched, enthralled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
He swallowed. “I found no sign of Jareth, only a band of centaurs who followed our trail. Naturally, I slaughtered them.”
“Naturally. And I’m sure I’ll love to hear all about it...after we’ve chatted about your treatment of me and you’ve apologized sufficiently.” Not that she’d change her mind about bailing.
The pile of goodies scattered at her feet captured his attention, specifically the rocks, and he stiffened. “Well.” Resigned—relieved?—he refocused on her. Wait. Had he wanted her to know and actively sought this standoff? The notion gave her pause. “You have questions, I’m sure.”
At least he wasn’t playing dumb. “I do.”
He looked her over again, radiating a mix of satisfaction and fond remembrance. “You selected Princess Tatiana’s dress to face me, rather than a garment previously owned by a royal concubine. How intriguing. I recall Tatiana well, now that I see her clothing drizzled over your luscious flesh.”
Luscious? Sometimes he said the sweetest, hottest things. Other times he cut to the quick. “Do tell.”
“Tatiana was Jareth’s third betrothed, celebrated by many for her unflappable stubbornness. No one expected me to win her from the prince. But I did.”
And he expected to win Cookie from the prince, too? By exhausting her? “Tell me why you did this to me.” Let him defend his rationalizations.
“I seek Prince Jareth’s punishment,” he said, confirming her suspicions. He raised his chin, his pride unmistakable. “Our war has lasted eons.” The ferocity in his tone proclaimed, Not long enough.
“So you abused me to punish him?” she demanded.
“I did.” He offered the words without a hint of remorse. “I live to punish him.”
Punish. Had Jareth the wife killer harmed someone Kaysar loved?
And he thought it made his actions okay?
Forget leaving him hard and wanting. Beneath her anger, hurt seethed. If she punished him for punishing someone else, then Kaysar had a right to punish her. A never-ending cycle. She sank to her knees and stuffed her belongings into her satchel—she’d earned these items. “I owe you a warning, so here it is. I’m leaving you.”
Whoosh. Cookie blinked, her entire world suddenly upside down. No, right side up. Kaysar had flittered over and tossed her to the ground, pinning her beneath him. He loomed over her, one hand restraining her arms over her head, the other gripping her throat, the tips of the metal pressing into her skin.
The savagery in his face intensified the vulnerability of her pose. Those whiskey eyes glittered as he wedged a massive erection between her thighs.
“You will not leave me.”
Her heart thundered, even as her blood heated. Not even the slightest bit afraid. Rather, her confidence reached new heights. This lethal king might wish to strike at Jareth, delighting in his petty retaliations against the prince’s “wife,” but he did crave Cookie. That, he hadn’t lied about.
Hurt receded.
Unflappable? Watch me.
“What’s the matter, Kaysar?” she purred, cradling his body against hers. “Has your raging hard-on for me left you cranky?”
He flinched but recovered quickly. “You will not leave me,” he repeated. “Until I’m finished with you, we stay together.”
Finished? With her? Dream on. “Stop me from leaving you in my dust. If you can.” Her smirk slipped free, suddenly on full display—because she let it slip free. “If I fail to discover another doormaker, if I never recover the ability to open a door myself, I’ll still find a way home.”
Different emotions tinged his features, each one steeped in despair. “Leave me, and I’ll hunt you. I’ll find you, Chantel. Nothing will stop me.”
Cookie smiled sweetly at him, wrenched a hand free and rammed the heel of her palm into his nose. Cartilage snapped, blood flowed.
“Go ahead. Threaten me again,” she said, “and I’ll hurt you.”
Other than a whip of his head as he absorbed the impact, he displayed no reaction to her strike—which proved shockingly hot. “Lulundria is the key to my vengeance against the prince,” he continued without a hitch. “Therefore, you are my key. You will aid me, Chantel. Willingly. That is not negotiable.”
