“Seriously,” she said, chewing on her bottom lip. “What is it?”
“You are—” He clenched his teeth until his jaw protested. Compliment her, while he orchestrated her misery? No.
Movement pulled his gaze to the left, where a two-headed snake unfurled from a tree limb, nearing Chantel. A bite wouldn’t kill her, only make her wish she’d died, accelerating her reliance on him.
Do not reach out. Do not.
Kaysar reached out, raking his claws through the reptile’s body. Both heads plopped onto her shoulder, then tumbled to the ground.
Fool. He’d wasted an opportunity.
“What the—” She peered at the bodiless heads and screamed, then darted behind him and grabbed fistfuls of his tunic. “Save me!”
She feared snakes to such a degree, she was willing to use him as a shield? He stood in shock. The last person to use him this way had been Viori.
The pang returned to his chest, and the sensation was not unpleasant. Rather than resist it, he leaned into it just as he leaned his body into hers, winding an arm around her. “No one will save you better,” he told her. The vow sprang from the depths of his soul, unstoppable.
“Oh, um...I misspoke. I don’t need saving.” She scrambled away from him, her cheeks flushed a deep red.
Too prideful?
Her hair had grown, and she tripped over the ends. “Argh!” She lifted her fists high and shouted indecipherable words. “I hate this world.”
She could not have been more adorable.
Adorable? He frowned as he approached her, saying, “Allow me.”
She froze as he gently collected her hair and twisted the mass in his grip. The red returned to her cheeks and spread into a rosy flush as he unsheathed a blade with his free hand. Her incredible eyes rounded, and her breathing quickened, but she didn’t fight him.
He sawed through the pink mass, careful not to apply pressure or pull.
“Oh, thank you,” she moaned as the shorter hanks fell into place. She rolled her head over her shoulders. Longer locks framed her face, reaching her collar, while other strands stacked over her nape.
The uneven style amplified her delicacy, which amplified his pang. He cleared his throat, keen to look away from her or stare forever, he wasn’t sure. Either way, the beauty refused to release his gaze, peering into parts of him he’d never wanted another to see.
A flush burned his cheeks. When he unearthed the strength to tear his attention from her, he plunged forward, resuming their trek.
“Come,” he called.
She caught up with him, huffing as she stayed close to his heels. “And I thought I was bad at peopling. You have to be the worst peopler in history.”
Whatever that meant. He still held her wealth of hair, he realized. That might be...disturbing? He should release it.
But he didn’t want to release it.
Disgusted with himself, Kaysar pried his fingers from the curls one by one, letting the silken mass slip away. At the last second, he snagged a sable lock and stuffed it in his pocket.
On they marched. Chantel chattered away, asking more questions about foliage. Still no queries about him. “Shall I tell you the entire history between mortals and fae?” he sniped.
“Let me guess.” How bored she sounded. “Your kind lived in harmony with mine until we persecuted you. Some ancient fae banded together, using magic to create a new world. Without a common enemy, fae kingdoms are now divided against themselves, always at war.”
“We never lived among you,” he grumbled. Not for long. His ancestors had visited the mortal world to offer aid, and they’d died for their efforts.
“So, what’s the biggest danger out here? To me personally, in case I wasn’t clear.”
Me. “Some would say a stickypit.”
“Stickypit?”
“Trees like the one ahead. They bleed when they’re wounded. Watch.” As he passed it, he raked his claws through its trunk. Thick red liquid oozed out. “Once a trickle begins, it can’t be halted. Soon a pool will form at the trunk’s base, and anyone who comes into contact with it will remain glued there for the rest of their life.”
“What?” She threw herself against him to escape the sap. He’d expected the action—had hoped for it, at least—and coiled an arm around her, pulling her to his side. As he continued walking, he kept a tight clasp on her hip.
He liked the way she fit his grip.
“I would have believed you without an example,” she stated. “Why’d you have to go and murder an innocent tree?”
“Because your husband is following us, and I will relish his bellows if he’s caught.” Oh, yes. The prince had found their trail a few miles back.
“What!” she cried again.
“If you have a message for him, thirty-eight pixies are hiding nearby, happy to carry it to him.”
“Pixies suck. Oh, yeah. Speaking of, I overheard you tell Jareth you killed the pink one.”
Would she dare complain about his savagery?
“Thank you,” she said, flicking him a glance laden with...something. What was that? Awe? As if he were some kind of hero? “I owed her a whole lot of nasty.”
Forget the pangs. Kaysar’s chest blistered. “You’re welcome?” He didn’t know what else to say. No one had ever thanked him for ending a life.
When the hairs on his nape stood up, he realized an outpost neared, a place where fae purchased food, lodging and supplies. Chantel would never know. Outposts were pocket realms hidden by an invisible curtain or veil.
He would thrill in her ignorance, of course. The worsening pang meant nothing.
Miles beyond this particular outpost was the waterfall. The entrance to the Dusklands. His home away from home. A desolate kingdom with few other inhabitants.
Though he hadn’t visited in, what? Twenty years? He loved the kingdom few others dared to enter. Or rather, he liked it. Kaysar wasn’t sure he was capable of loving anything. But he did enjoy the solitude he found in the Dusklands. The few remaining citizens always hid from him, and the monsters who usually tormented them always provided an outlet for his worst rages.
He quickened his pace, forcing the princess to jog to keep up.
“Speaking of Jareth,” Chantel said, bringing his thoughts back to the present. “That man disgusts me.”
Shock. Tenderness. Both hit Kaysar, and he slowed, basking in their warmth. Then a worry sprang up, as cold as ice, ruining everything. Would Chantel feel the same disgust for him, when she learned the truth about what really happened to Lulundria?