Breathe. Just breathe. This was fine. Everything was fine. Yes, okay, he looked a bit insane right now, his eyes maniacal as he surveyed her from top to bottom. But. He hadn’t retaliated when she’d slammed into him. His intentions toward her might not be terrible.
She backed away, step by step, but kept her gaze upon him, just in case. Blood drenched a powerful body humming with aggression. After all the damage he’d caused, he wasn’t winded. If a centaur had managed to injure him, she found no evidence of a wound.
Voice a rapture-inducing growl, he asked, “Where do you think you’re going?”
Far from here? Forever? Fingers crossed.
She paused a good distance away and held up her hands, palms out. A gesture of innocence or an attempt to ward him off, she wasn’t sure. Either way, so far, so good. “Hi. Hello. First, I can’t thank you enough for the save. While I’m not a fan of being a damsel in distress, I’m glad I’m not dying.” Very smooth. But true. “Right? I’m not dying?”
Eternal seconds ticked by without a response.
Okay. Moving on and trying again. The Cookie way. “I’m Cookie Bardot. Well, my first name is actually Chantel, but friends call me Cookie. Apparently, cookie was my first word, and also all I ever wanted to eat. But I’m babbling, sorry. I do that when I appear in a strange world, where mythological monsters eye me with mental forks and knives and a guy with sexy ears comes along and murders everyone.” She forced an airy laugh, her cheeks heating. Had she told a homicidal maniac he had sexy ears? “Anyway. Short story long, you can call me whatever you want.”
He fingered his ears before shaking his head and scowling. “Chantel? Cookie? No. Your name is Lulundria. Though I can be persuaded to use the name Drendall upon occasion.”
Uh-oh. She detected a note of anger. Anger. From an unashamed killer who’d displayed zero anger before gutting the centaurs. “Sure. I’ll answer to Lulundria. Or Lulu. Even Lue. Or Drendall. Dren is nice, too.” Who were these women? “I’m easy. Easygoing, I mean. Not easy—never mind. You get it.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You are her, but not her.”
The same thing the first round of pixies had said. Not that she would be stupid enough to trust a pixie again. In fact, if ever she got her hands on the pink one, she’d stop being murder curious and start being murder happy.
Cookie proceeded cautiously. “Did, um, Lulundria—the other Lulundria have pink hair and green eyes?”
His chiseled features darkened. He gave a sharp incline of his head. “She did.”
Lulundria. The name clicked, and once again she knew. Her donor. The woman she’d seen in her vision. Who she recognized on a cellular level, though they’d never met.
To tell this man or to not tell him? What if he’d only saved her to gain answers about the transplant? Once he knew the truth, he’d have no use for her. Worse, what if he believed she was somehow responsible for Lulundria’s death?
On the flip side, what if the information bought her a protector and guide home?
Amid the silence, he prowled closer. Closer still...
She remained in place, motionless, her heart pounding harder and faster, as if she were in the middle of a marathon. When he stood only a few feet away, she caught his scent and liquified. What was that? Sweet, but spicy. Intoxicating.
He walked a circle around her, and she let him do it without reprisal, remaining rooted where she stood. Partly in fear. Partly in...not fear, a desire to nuzzle into his strength growing.
So desperate for a teammate, you’ll enter the bear’s cage?
He paused behind her, and his warm breath brushed her nape. The most delicious shivers of all rippled over her.
“You are far more beautiful than she was. An object of desire few have the strength to resist.” He purred the words straight into her ear, wrapping his powerful arms around her waist, crowding into her. Tap. Tap. The tip of his metal claw kissed her belly again and again without cutting her clothes. “Tell me, girl. Do I make you apprehensive?”
The feel of him... “You do make me apprehensive,” she admitted, earning a start of surprise from him. Among other things.
Cookie hadn’t pressed against a hard, masculine form in so long. How she’d missed the warmth. The sense of closeness. The safety. For once, she didn’t feel oppressed by loneliness or impending doom.
Tap, tap, tap. “You alone have no reason to dread your time with me, female.” Tap, tap. “Not at the moment.”
What about later?
She decided to roll the dice. The truth will set you free. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but I believe your Lulundria is...dead. I’m sorry,” she repeated. “My heart was defective, and I was dying. She didn’t need hers anymore, so doctors transplanted it inside me. After the surgery, I began to change. My hair. My eyes.” The vines.
The brutal warrior tensed. She braced for a shout of denial, or an accusation of dishonesty.
He appeared before her, and she yelped. How was he doing that?
“You hold Lulundria’s heart in your chest? She lives on in you?” He set two knuckles under her chin and tipped her head up to his, unveiling a stunning smile. He was temptation made flesh. “This is wonderful. This is wonderful indeed.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
KAYSAR HAD DETECTED no lies in the beauty’s confession, the truth hitting him with all the finesse of a cannonball. Lulundria had returned to Astaria. She’d come back as this living doll—this living Drendall—whose finely boned face both mesmerized and unsettled him.
One woman the same as any other? Hardly.
He could stare at this female forever and another day, and it wouldn’t be long enough. And her body... All that pale, radiant skin. The top of her head reached his shoulders. Barely. She was short but curved, wearing a pink tunic with text scribbled over the center. “Stay-at-Home Cat Mom.” On her legs was black material seemingly poured onto her skin. A mortal fashion?
He frowned as the unthinkable happened—he hardened without permission from his mind. But why would he do this? People responded to him; he did not respond to people.
Despite the unprecedented reaction, she aided his cause. The heart of a Frostline-by-marriage beat in this former mortal’s chest, ensuring Lulundria lived on. Ensuring her connection with Jareth and Hador lived on.
The princess wasn’t the first royal fae to extend her life this way, but there were few others who’d dared to venture down this particular path. A mind was a gateway to the heart, the battery for any glamara, and all were different, no two intellects the same. The longer this Chantel carried Lulundria’s heart, the more her thoughts and personality shaped it. For better or for worse.