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“Ah. So that’s what you were doing. Couldn’t figure it out.”
“You were awake?”
“Aye. Curious, me. You saved me from drowning and dragged me to cover.” He sent her a confounded look. “Why would you do that?”
Answering with slow sarcasm as if speaking to a simpleton, she replied. “Because otherwise you would have died.”
His expression hardened and he transferred his grip to her forearm. “You’ll soon wish I had.”
* * *
Khalstorm charged through the forest with Celeste in tow and his thoughts in turmoil. Why had she not just let him drown? Why had she saved him when he’d made it clear he planned to make her last moments of life a misery? It made no sense. Or maybe she didn’t realize the full extent of his hatred for her. Perhaps she thought he’d show her mercy if she saved him. She couldn’t have expected to escape with him into the white forest—this was the forest of his childhood. He knew every inch of it—especially without her magic. He felt for the key to her shackles, still in his pocket.
And that kiss . . .
He could still perceive the softness of her lips on his. The taste of her lingered. He was ashamed to recall the nearly irresistible urge to kiss her back. To take those sweet lips as he once had, pull her under him, and bury himself in her body.
She had no right to kiss him like that! As if she still cared for him.
Another manipulation. Another mind game.
As he made his way through the forest, he began to register a curious burden around his neck. He reached up to find cold, hard metal wrapping his collar. He skidded to a dead stop.
Caught off guard, it took Celeste an extra second to halt, and her feet nearly slipped out from under her as he pulled her back to his side. “What the
. . .?” she squeaked. “Why did we stop?” Then she glanced up to see what was absorbing his attention. After a moment of examination, her eyes widened. “Oh goddess! That’s why you weren’t in your dragon form.”
“What is this?” He tried to pull the collar off, but it wouldn’t budge.
She glanced down at her shackles and then back up at him. “It’s a spell. One I believe Rathmort has been working to master for some time. Looks like he finally did.”
“Bully for him. What does it do?”
“I think it will keep you from turning into a dragon until it’s removed.”
Khalstorm ground his teeth together. “Bastard.”
“If I had access to my magic, I could probably remove it . . . I think.”
She aimed to trick him into freeing her. He resumed walking, his grip on her forearm tighter than ever. “If you had access to your magic, you could easily escape me, and I’d rather be grounded forever than let that happen.”
“They’ll be looking for us. I can help fight them if you remove my cuffs.”
“The moment I remove them, you’ll sift away and leave me to bear the consequences”—he glared down at her— “again.”
She blinked and he thought he caught a glint of remorse in her eyes. “I-I can explain about Lizbet—”
He jostled her hard. “Keep talking and I’ll gag you.”
She sighed irritably but did remain silent . . . for about five seconds. “Are we just wandering aimlessly, or do you know where you’re going?”
Once again Khalstorm stopped. He ripped a strip of fabric from his tunic and used it as a gag, shoving it between her teeth and tying the ends together at the back of her head. Baring her teeth around the fabric, she glared up at him, appearing as though she were simply exasperated by him. Then she gave the most adorable growl he had ever heard. No! It wasn’t adorable. It was annoying.
He resumed walking, pulling her along a little less forcefully this time. “Obviously I know where I’m going. This was my home. Or did you forget?”
She mumbled something around the gag, but the sound was muffled, and he couldn’t understand her so she brazenly lifted her free hand and pulled the gag out of her mouth. “Of course I didn’t forget.”
He sent her a chilling look.
