COOKIE REMAINED BENEATH KAYSAR as he came down from his high. A sense of vulnerability proved as strong as a shackle. Usually she left immediately after a make-out session to discourage after-chatter. But at this precise moment, she longed to snuggle up and speak to Kaysar about anything, everything and nothing all at once. Her stern demeanor? In tatters.
Did he feel the same? Deep down, he must feel something for her. Something meaningful. Profound. The way he continued to react to her, the way he looked at her... It had nothing to do with vengeance. They shared a connection. The kind she’d never experienced with another—the kind she wasn’t sure she could live without.
He wanted her to stay with him. And she would. But she would never be content with a second-place participation trophy. She would fight for him, as advertised.
You couldn’t win the battles you forfeited.
Kaysar’s eyes remained closed as she smoothed a lock of hair from his forehead. Beautiful, broken king. Her chest tightened. There was no denying she hungered for him as she’d never hungered for another. He excited her—fulfilled her—in ways she’d only thought possible in dreams.
She liked him and enjoyed the way his cunning mind worked. His dry sense of humor was warped enough to fit perfectly with her own.
Two Mad Hatters, spinning inside the same teacup.
He’d endured the worst kind of abuse as a child. As an adult, he’d known only hate. No one had fought for him, a tragedy all its own. He deserved a champion. Someone to slay his dragons—someone to save him from his big bad.
Hadn’t she longed for adventure? But how much was too much? What if the two killers tanked? Honestly, they probably had a super high likelihood of failure. Could Astaria survive the end of their relationship?
The time to stop a breakup from happening was now. Only now. With a little work and a lot of selective amnesia, they could return to a businesslike arrangement safely. Probably. Fingers crossed, anyway.
But she wanted him. Bad.
She would give the battle everything she had and fight the only way she knew how—one day at a time.
And there was no better day to start. Cookie Bardot, reporting for duty.
She sized up her competition. Her opponent, Vengeance, had lived with Kaysar for thousands of years and provided his only source of joy.
What could she provide? What, exactly, did she offer? Something he could get nowhere else? Cataclysmic sex, if their bump and grind was any indication. Sass and trouble, definitely. Comfort? Maybe?
You had to work with what you had. So. Her strategy was clear. Her sexuality would just have to suck it up and take one for the team.
Kaysar opened his eyes and...smiled at her. His irises were animated. Had any man ever exuded such sublime fulfilment? “Oh, dear.” He eased to the side and motioned to her clothing. “I seem to have ruined your dress.”
Cookie’s stomach fluttered. Sex made him playful. And absolutely irresistible. Good to know. “Shall I remove it?” she said, playing right back.
“Most definitely. I’ll have it cleaned.” He raked his claws down the gown’s center, splitting the sides from collar to ankle. Buttons flew in different directions, and the material fell from her curves. Material he removed from beneath her with only a flick of his wrist. Suddenly, she was naked, cool air enveloping sensitive skin. “And repaired.”
He’d slashed precisely. His claws never scratched her skin.
“Thank you.” Cookie rolled her shoulders, luxuriating in the lack of starch. The time for cold disdain had ended. “But you’ll have the dress cleaned, repaired and replaced. I expect something even more matronly. I’m eager to discover which of my personas you’re able to seduce.” Only all of them?
He went still, his hand paused midair as he reached for her breast. “You’re allowing me to stay in your castle? Am I more forgiven then?”
“Mostly.” She sighed. “For now, you can stay. We can negotiate one day at a time, as needed.”
“This pleases me.” His smile returned—sparking one of her own.
Vengeance didn’t stand a chance.
“Within the hour, your closet will brim with the finest garments in all the worlds.” He brought her hand to his lips and licked between her knuckles. “Otherwise merchants, servants and guards will die painfully. You’ll require something for every occasion, I’m sure.”
He seemed to love that her clothes highlighted different aspects of her personality, while other men might have fled in terror. Which made her appreciate her new ability—and Kaysar—so much more. They could have fun together. Something they’d both sorely lacked.
“You are too far away for my liking. Come closer to me.” He lifted her, then draped her torso over his. The same position she’d cherished at the outpost, with her cheek resting on his tattooed pectoral, directly over his heart. He hadn’t removed his pants. The fly gaped open, his shaft free and already semi-hard. The perfect complement to her own outfit—nature’s lingerie.
The warmth. The comfort and safety. The connection.
Mmm, the scents... Every breath carried Kaysar’s potent fragrance.
He combed his fingers through her hair. “Why did you never snuggle with someone before me?”
Going deep right out of the gate, sharing fears and insecurities. Okay, why not? They’d never done anything the un-weird way, so why start now? “Why get used to something you can’t keep? People get to know the real me and leave. That’s what they do. Pearl Jean and Sugars are my only stickers.”
“I will not leave you,” he boasted, and he sounded as if he meant it. “Fate did you a kindness with the others, sweetling. Anyone willing to leave you is a fool, and you are too precious to suffer fools. Also, if another male had snuggled you at any time, I would be killing him right now for daring to take what’s mine.”
She was only mildly embarrassed by her misty eyes. “That’s kind of you to say.”
“Yes, I am known far and wide for my kindness.” He smiled when she peeked up at him from her perch on his chest, then grew serious. “Have you introduced me to the real Chantel Cookie Bardot, then?”
“I think so? I mean, I’ve never felt more like or unlike myself at the same time.”
With the pad of his thumb, he traced the shell of her ear. “You are learning and accepting your own truths, perhaps.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong. “FYI—er, for your information, I like the real Kaysar.” Cookie had a feeling she was the only person who’d received an introduction to him. A murderous teddy bear with a big heart and a bigger erection.
“I’m glad. I’m not sure how to be any other way.”