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Emotion wasn’t something Kaysar compelled, however. Could he win a devoted princess from her adoring husband with his charm alone? The challenge intrigued him.
Who was he kidding? Challenge? He snorted. Yes, he could win her. He could win any woman of his choosing. None had the strength to resist his handsome face and powerful physique.
It was ironic, really. He inspired great lust in others, yet he himself had never experienced genuine passion. The torture he’d endured with Lark and Hador had caused a permanent disconnection between his mind and body. Few sensations registered as anything more than pressure, heat or cold. He’d never felt close to a lover, not the way others seemed to do. A fact he celebrated.
To Kaysar, sex would forever be a tool. He’d never wanted someone for reasons outside of vengeance, and he never would. Who could he trust?
As Jareth positioned his wife on her hands and knees, an idea budded. Something truly vile. Something Kaysar had never done before. What if he...impregnated her?
It was a disgusting idea, worse than the abduction and seduction...and absolutely perfect. In the fae realm, a husband suffered great dishonor if ever he disinherited his wife’s child, no matter the reason for it.
To keep Kaysar’s child off the throne, Jareth would be forced to expose the black heart he so expertly hid from the rest of the world. Something he wouldn’t do, preventing Hador’s descendant from ever inheriting the crown.
Was any revenge sweeter?
The plan was set then. As soon as Lulundria conceived, Kaysar would return her to her husband and enjoy the fallout.
Eager to begin, he flittered to a stand, rolled his shoulders and prepared his claws. Then, he flittered directly behind the thrusting male, fisted his hair with one hand, yanking his head up, and tearing out half his throat with the other hand. Enough to cause agonizing pain, but not enough to kill. He jumped back as the prince clutched at his throat.
No doubt Jareth would recover in seconds and use his glamara. Like one of his Frostline ancestors, he wielded an ability to summon ice and spew shards from his fingertips.
“Jareth?” The princess glanced over her shoulder, probably wondering why her husband no longer thrust into her. Spotting Kaysar several feet behind the male, she screamed and scrambled to don a tunic.
The choking, bleeding prince fell forward. Kaysar flittered in front of the couple and grinned.
“Congratulations, Jareth. By some miracle, you didn’t tear your bride with your massive size. How thrilled you must both be.” He clapped. “Between the two of us,” he added with a low tone, as if he shared a secret, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to say the same. I’m actually size gargantuan. Shhh. Don’t tell. I want to surprise her.”
“You don’t touch her.” Spittle sprayed from the prince’s mouth as he regained his voice and lumbered to his feet. “You don’t even get to look at her.”
The princess rushed behind her wild-eyed husband. Nearly fully recovered, Jareth waved in Kaysar’s direction, flinging small slivers of ice.
Kaysar flittered in and out, the missiles embedding in the tree behind him. Grin widening, he faced off with the prince. “Go ahead. Call your royal guard. Demand help...my darling.”
Realizing he’d been observed from the beginning, Jareth charged within striking distance. Kaysar could have moved, avoiding the fist thrown his way, but he gladly absorbed the blow—while disemboweling his opponent. Ah, an old favorite.
The prince stumbled backward, and another scream burst from the princess.
“Go,” Jareth commanded, his voice little more than a rasp as he shoved her toward the trees.
The foolish royal hesitated, as if she actually thought to aid her husband, allowing Kaysar to flitter and catch her wrist in a vise-grip. She tried to flitter, as well, but his resistance proved greater. In a battle of wills, he won, every time.
Jareth drew back his elbow to hurl more ice, and an idea took root. Why not make the prince hurt his wife in the worst way?
Just as the prince slashed his hand, unleashing another volley of shards, Kaysar flittered and thrust the princess forward, making it appear as if she lunged on her own. The ice sank into her torso, and she lurched.
Jareth barked a hoarse denial as Lulundria tottered, bumping into Kaysar. Too weak to absorb impact, her knees buckled. He held her up, enjoying her discomfort as sublimely as Jareth was regretting it.
While it wasn’t the best start to her seduction, Kaysar wasn’t worried. He’d overcome far worse. “Did we learn our lesson today, prince? Protecting others before we protect ourselves never ends well for anyone.”
Jareth didn’t seem to hear him. Shell-shocked, he dropped to his haunches. His head bowed and a sob escaped him, Eye’s vision coming to life. “My ice is poison to Summerlanders. To royals more than any others. She...she’s going to... You’ve killed her. You’ve killed my Lulu.”
