The centaurs had trussed her up into the perfect appetizer for any outdoor barbecue, planning to feast on her all-you-can-eat-buffet-style.
Hope you taste as sweet as you look, girlie. Soon you’ll roast on a spit, and I’ll pick your bones clean.
The earlier taunt echoed, sparking fury. As the horsemen had carted her through Nightmare Candyland, they’d speculated about the spices to use on her charred remains. They’d discussed owning nymphs as pets and claiming mortals as servants. She’d flowed from hysteria, to rage, to game mode, doing her best to think of an escape.
How many others had the centaurs harmed? How many others would they harm in the future, if they were allowed to live?
Oh, yes, she yearned to kill them. A desire that sprung from a place far deeper than the petty, vengeful side of herself that delighted when she witnessed a bad guy’s downfall. A place she’d never had the guts to face before. But face it she would.
For whatever reason, she’d never felt more alive.
“I’m done waiting,” the hottie with the incredible voice said. His name was Kaysar. He was the one who’d issued the command to return, and every time he spoke, she shivered.
He struck her as a man who murdered without hesitation, breaking a sweat or regretting his actions.
So why is he more attractive by the minute?
“Respond,” he said. “Before I start singing.”
Every centaur issued a rushed protest. Actual, flesh-and-blood centaurs. A fact that might forever blow her mind.
Why did the newcomer want her? Why fight an army to claim a stranger?
Unless he had nefarious plans for her, too?
Apprehension shook her. Before she embraced her panic, she should weigh the facts. In the vision, the pink-haired woman had jumped in front of this man, as if to shield him from the Viking. If she’d loved him enough to save him, he might not be such a bad guy. But what had happened to Pink after she’d gotten hit by those ice daggers? Had she survived? Did this man seek her out?
Cookie’s heart leaped at the thought, another question rising. Did she share a connection with the woman? She’d felt a leap during the vision. Now, she felt an undeniable tug of kinship. A knowing she shouldn’t be able to discern...
I have her heart.
The knowledge dawned, bright and sure. Did the man know the truth, too? Could he sense it? Had he come for the heart of his...lover?
Had he adored the pink-haired beauty?
If he could take on twenty centaurs and live, he could help Cookie. Out here, there were threats she knew nothing about. And never would she forget the two threats she’d learned about firsthand—treacherous pixies and poisonous vines. She needed an ally. A teammate. Someone who knew the lay of the land.
Hottie moved into a brighter beam of sunlight, as if stepping up to bat, and her breath caught. His jet-black locks gleamed with shades of cobalt, his dusky skin glimmering with flecks of molten gold. He had the most adorable pointy ears of all time, studded with metal.
“Your silence tells me you’d prefer me to make the decision for you, Race.” Confidence clung to him, a second skin oozing arrogance. “Is this true?”
His voice had dropped, awakening cells she hadn’t known she possessed, pleasure suddenly superseding each point of pain. The sensation lasted only a moment, and she hungered for more.
Wait—what? More? Mortification scorched her cheeks. Getting turned on because of a stranger’s voice—in the middle of a life-and-death situation—was so not okay. Even for Cookie.
“I... You...” Looking from Cookie to Hottie, the centaur named Race maintained his grip on the sword hilt. “I am keeping the girl?”
Race was the one who’d found her at the pond, and she delighted when his inhalations shallowed. Let him experience some of the terror he’d dished.
“You sound unsure,” Hottie replied, as smooth as silk. He smiled pure evil. “I must admit, I hoped you’d choose this path.”
He seemed to shift from one boot to the other, nothing more, but a bloody organ appeared in his hand.
Whoa. He’d attacked so fast she’d missed it? He’d teleported? What?
Race clutched the gaping hole in his chest, red pooling between his fingers. Eyes widening with pain and an ever-increasing awareness of his coming death, he collapsed. His body jerked once, twice, then sagged over the grass. A pool of crimson formed around him.
Which wasn’t nearly as disgusting as expected. It wasn’t even upsetting.
It was deserved.
Mutters of shock erupted as the other centaurs comprehended their leader’s fate. The soldier in front of her startled, rearing up, tilting her alignment. She slid down the log. The other soldier couldn’t maintain his grip, and the log slipped off his shoulder.
Both the trunk and Cookie slammed into the ground. Air burst from her lungs and dirt plumed around her. She coughed, desperate for oxygen, and—“Argh!” A centaur tread on her ankle, crushing her bones.
Cookie screamed behind the gag, lights flashing, blinding her. Nausea churned in her stomach. She wheezed her breaths, the agony threatening to shut down her mind. Stay awake, just stay awake.
Won’t be a sitting duck. She blinked, shook her head, willing herself to heal. Her vision cleared, and she craned her head to search for Kaysar...
One by one, the centaurs collapsed, each gushing blood. Or missing a head. Every other blink, she caught a glimpse of Kaysar as he moved through the ranks. Crimson soaked him, his expression ecstatic.
He loved this.
Terror gripped her and squeezed. Okay. Maybe she didn’t need his help, after all. If she’d misread the vision, if ever he focused his murderous sights on Cookie, she would lose. For now, she was better off navigating the forest and its survivable dangers on her own.
She bucked and contorted, doing her best to free her arms from the rope while pushing her way up the log. If she failed to succeed this way, she planned to succeed that way.
Slow down. Think. Fear is at the wheel, urgency setting in.
She ignored the warning. Cookie wanted out of this—Yes! See? Success. One hand free, then the other. Whipping upright, she yanked off the gag, then worked on the rope around her poor damaged ankle. To her amazement, she’d already begun to heal. In a matter of minutes, she might even be racer ready.
Come on, come on. What if Kaysar focused on her next?
Finally, the rope gave. Cookie lumbered to her feet and threw a swift glance over the battleground, tensing as realization set in. Only two centaurs remained. Time to go.
She launched forward, losing her houseboots as she zoomed past a line of trees—“No!”
Kaysar appeared, towering in front of her. Unable to slow, she crashed into him and bounced back, stumbling but remaining upright.