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“Good for you, but no, thanks. Scratch my name off your roster. You go after innocent bystanders. That means you’re no better than the one who hurt you.”
Was she right? Was she wrong? He didn’t know! “What if I limit my targets from now on?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s too late.”
Different impulses warred. Face her. Pin her against the rock wall. Touch her hair. Touch all of her. Kiss her until she forgot what he’d done. Beg for another chance. Just one more.
Who am I? Kaysar de Aoibheall did not beg for anything. Ever. But he had promised to be better for her, and he always kept his word.
“Come to me, Chantel,” the prince called, extending a hand in her direction. “Let me take you from this awful place.”
Kaysar glared at the prince, telling Chantel, “You wonder why I target him, sweetling? Allow me to share.” To Jareth’s credit, he held Kaysar’s stare, even as he flinched, because he knew what was coming. “Lulundria’s darling Jareth once watched with a smile as his father cut out my tongue. I was only twelve at the time. Too young to heal from such a severe injury.”
Chantel gasped with horror.
“I grew a new one only because of my glamara.”
He couldn’t see her face, and she didn’t retract her claws, but her expression must have softened, because Jareth shouted, “You’re wavering?”
“Maybe? I don’t know, okay?” she retorted, and Kaysar’s knees nearly buckled with relief. “It didn’t happen to me, but I want to punish you for your reaction.”
Kaysar floundered, some unknown emotion ravaging him. This woman...
Jareth tried again. “He made you think your own husband was a monster out to kill you.”
“Tsk-tsk. You know there’s more to the story, Jareth.” Chiding tone. Deepening rage. Unwavering determination. Chantel deserved to know everything. “You witnessed your father and your uncle locking me in the tower after the removal of my tongue. Did you know they took me from my five-year-old sister, leaving her without a protector?” His voice hardened, and his insides roiled. “For a year, I remained chained to a wall while you enjoyed freedom. Your uncle visited me every day. Your father preferred to wait for special occasions.”
Jareth closed his eyes. Opened them. For a moment, he looked ready to vomit.
“They. Did. What?” Chantel plucked her claws free and patted the punctures. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Kaysar. I am. But.” The claws pierced him once more. “I’m so furious with you, too. I want to scream and rail at you. And I want to hug you.”
Had there ever been a more fascinating creature?
“I need a moment to deliberate which reaction to embrace.” Claws out. “I mean, what you did to the royal family is justified. But what you did to Lulundria and me is terrible. I should slap you.” In. “But I get it. The royal family sliced open your heart. Now you bleed all over them.” Out. “I want to hug you harder. You know what? I’m not resisting the urge anymore. I hope you’re ready for me.” Quaking, she flung her arms around him, clutching him from behind. Her scent muddied his thoughts. “I’m so sorry that happened to you,” she repeated softly.
The gentle hold nearly broke him. The understanding finished the job. “You’ll stay with me? You forgive me for my crimes?”
“I forgive some of it. Most of it. Maybe. I mean, I forgive-ish. I’m fifty percent there, bordering on forty-nine or fifty-one. The number teeters depending on reasons.” She sighed. “But stay with you? I don’t know. I don’t trust you. How can I?”
“I won’t use you again,” he vowed in a rush. Oh, how he’d needed her forgiveness; he just hadn’t known it until this moment. That she’d offered to clear half his crimes against her... A weight eased from his shoulders. The foreboding and anxiety he’d carried since meeting her began to evaporate. Trust could be earned.
“You consider me a Frostline,” she reminded him. “How can you not use me again?”
Jareth listened to the conversation, but Kaysar didn’t care. To him, the outcome was vital.
“You are anything but a Frostline, Chantel. You alone are safe with me. And innocents. Hurting you or others like you will never again be my goal. That, I swear to you. Give me a chance. I only need one more. I’ll prove myself worthy this time. We’ll work together, just as we hoped. Jareth’s father, King Hador Frostline, requires punishing.” He wondered... Was it possible...
Was Chantel his woman? The one Eye spoke of?
He remembered telling the oracle, I have no mate, I want no mate, and I seek only vengeance.
Now, as he imagined Chantel in his bed, naked and spread for him and him alone, he nearly roared, needing her there as soon as possible.
“Lu—Chantel.” Jareth appeared agonized. “I love my wife. Her love for me burns bright in her heart. You’ll remember our relationship, and you’ll love me, too. Please. Remember me,” he beseeched her. “As soon as you’re away from the king, you’ll return to normal.”
