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“You’ve decided.” Her eyes narrowed. “You have. You. Decided. For me?”
“My vengeance demands it.” They had reached a dangerous dividing line between them. How could he make her understand his side of it? “You are precious to me, Chantel, and I have no wish to act otherwise. I wish only to give you the world.”
“The world. But not children.”
Ignore the burn in your chest. “Do you even want them?”
“Not right now. But one day. Maybe. I’d like the option, at least.”
He gripped the edge of the table. Losing her. “I will keep you so satisfied, you’ll never miss them. For the rest of my life, I will devote myself to your pleasure.”
“And if my pleasure gets in the way of your vengeance?”
He wouldn’t deny the truth. “She is my master, and she will always come first.” Vengeance fed him. He liked his meals cold and often.
Chantel revealed nothing—at first. “Before you entered the room, I debated the merits of sleeping with you for a few weeks before going home. Now you demand obedience for eternity. That’s a big nope, by the way. I won’t submit to you, and I certainly won’t rely on you. The moment I do, boom, you’ll decide you’re done with me, and good ole Cookie will have to pick up the pieces yet again.”
The more she spoke, the more hurt she projected.
His chest pinged as never before. He’d been so focused on his own past, he hadn’t given hers a thought. What had branded such anguish in her eyes? “I will always need you,” he told her, his certainty unwavering.
“I thought we’d established the fact that you aren’t a seer. You can’t know the future.”
“In this, I can. I do.” He sensed the truth in the deepest part of himself. Looking back, he realized he’d experienced a glimmer of her importance to him the moment their gazes first locked. “I’ve lost everything of importance to me. My parents. My sister. My innocence. For most of my life, vengeance has been my sole pleasure. Before you, sex wasn’t something I deemed essential. But you affected—affect me. The things you make me feel, every hour of every day, whether you’re with me or away from me...”
Desire scraped him raw, even now. He ran his gaze over her, and his timbre dropped. “Your mind and body are most definitely essential.”
Emotions spun inside her eyes, reminding him of the wheels on a cart, going around and around, delaying her reaction. As if she couldn’t know how to feel until the wheels stopped.
He pressed his advantage. Confusion had opened a door; he needed only to slide in. “My affections are yours, Chantel. I will see to your every need and slay your every dragon.”
Her eyes narrowed. She came to her feet with that awing grace. Leaning over, languid but intent, she gripped the sides of the table. “I don’t need you to slay my dragons, Kaysar.” Those mismatched eyes glittered as she displayed a cold smile. Vines unwound from her fingertips, slithering around his throat and squeezing—lifting him out of his chair. “I’m perfectly capable of killing anyone.”
Savage arousal choked him as surely as her vines, and he shot as hard as stone. Want her. Need her.
“In case it isn’t obvious,” she said, severe and pitiless, “I’m keeping the apprentice and the palace, but I’m declining your offer.”
Perhaps he should modify his strategy? A small tweak, nothing more. “Allow me to stay and help you defend your palace against the coming attacks,” he said, slowly, gently wrapping his fingers around the stalks.
Pressure eased. She retracted her vines and returned to her chair. Wineglass in hand, she reclined. “Go on. I’m listening.”
He openly adjusted his erection, not trying to hide the action, and returned to his seat, as well. “Micah and his army want this palace back. They’ll return. As queen, you’ll be responsible for the defense of every person, door, window and trap. To achieve victory, you’ll require an army of your own filled with loyal soldiers—or a king able to fell thousands within seconds.” Because he had no moral compass, he added, “Think of Pearl Jean. Sugars. Guarding their lives will be a high priority for me. They’ll be my family, too. I’ll protect them with my life. No other king, teammate or lover will vow the same, and mean it.”
A moment passed without the slightest hint of a reaction, both endless and agonizing for Kaysar. Then she swirled and swirled and swirled her wine, and he longed for the inactivity of yesteryear. What did the swirling mean? What would she say or do next?
Finally, she spoke. “Micah and the bulk of his men are unable to hear your voice. How will you defeat them?”
“No, sweetling. They were unable. The effects of the drug they used have since worn off.”
“And if they use the drug again?”
