He chuckled softly. “Do you think my wanting ever goes away, sweetling? There’s a clawing right here, every time I think about you. See you. Breathe you in.” He slid his arms around her more fully and lightly tapped her sternum. “There’s also a sense of incredible peace here.”
Her next inhalation burned her lungs. “What kind of future do you envision us having together? I mean, we’ve only known each other for a short while. What if I don’t fit into your life long-term?”
“We will fit into each other’s lives because we will make it so.” Anticipation fizzed in his voice, reminding her of champagne and celebration. “I see a bright future for us. I will tell you what I need, and you will do the same. Sometimes I’ll strike at the Frostlines alone. Sometimes you’ll come with me. We’ll spend countless hours in bed, of course.” He rubbed his erection between her cheeks. “I never knew such pleasures existed, and now that I do, there’s so much more I wish to do with you.”
“A bright future indeed,” she said, her body singing for him. Yes, they could do this. They were learning each other, but they were also making room in their lives. As long as he remained motivated to succeed with her, she had something to work with.
All right. Time to bring up the beating heart of the big bad.
“Help me better understand your vengeance,” she said.
He clasped her by the waist, lifted and turned her, then sat her on the rail. He fit his hips between her spread legs, putting her face above his, and linked his fingers under her backside. His strong arms kept her safe and steady, but she clung to him anyway.
He was naked. Gloriously so. A proud, powerful—irresistible—sight. Disheveled hair made him appear boyish. Honestly, slumber had helped him shed two hundred and fifty years. At least.
On his left shoulder was the birth control tattoo he’d given himself. Three black dots the size of pennies, and a stark reminder of the ruthlessness of his nature. He expected her to remain childless, even if she one day wanted kids, simply to satisfy a debt he could repay with a sword at any time.
“What would you like to know?” he asked, wary.
The storm charged the air. A flash of lightning illuminated a male with lost whiskey eyes. Her heart banged against her ribs. If those eyes were the window to his soul, Kaysar the Unhinged One desperately needed saving. He was a king currently drowning in tears he’d refused to shed.
Cookie nearly looked away. As she held his gaze, silently offering a life raft, if only he would grab it, his expression softened into tenderness.
Here goes. “You let the Frostlines live so you can torture them. What if King Hador harms other innocents in the meantime?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I castrate him regularly, and I use a blade that makes his injuries more difficult to heal. Sometimes I take his eyes and his hands, too. I’m eager to show you my collection.”
“And I’m eager to see it.” She chewed on her bottom lip as she toyed with his hair. “If I asked you to let Jareth go, you’d tell me...?”
He reared back, but she held tight. Eventually he settled back against her, and she melted over him.
“It’s just a question, Kaysar. I’m not actually asking you to do it.”
“I’d tell you no, absolutely not,” he said, a little panicked.
Yeah. She’d figured. “Jareth was as much a child as you were the day you lost your sister.” Tread carefully. “What if the king and his brother abused him the same way they abused you?”
“No. The Frostlines lie. They’re kind in public and monsters in private. I watched from my window, my ire sharpening every time a servant or guest gazed upon them with adoration and admiration.”
“But you never saw Jareth in private. You don’t know if he broke down every time he sealed himself in his bedroom.”
“No!” A violent shake of his head as he attempted to step back again. “You don’t understand.” His volume rose with each word.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. We don’t have to discuss Jareth, young or old.” She petted his chest until he relaxed, then steered the conversation to the present. “What are you going to do about Micah and Hador? Will you leave the castle again?” Tomorrow?
“Not without you. As to what I’ll do... I am unsure. I must think. My schemes require...adjusting.” He kneaded her backside, his touch almost bruising. “Earlier you told me you needed to be first. What if I can’t give you that? I can’t lose you, Chantel. But I can’t lose her, either.”
“Her?”
“Vengeance is Viori, and Viori is vengeance.”
He spoke the words by rote. An internal chant, no doubt. He believed he’d failed his sister and sought to offer her reparation. The only thing he had to offer? The pain of those who had separated them.
Win him from his vengeance, yeah, Cookie could probably do it. But win him from his sister? He might hate her for it. Forgiveness wasn’t something he knew how to offer.
“I won’t ask you to give up your sister,” she promised. “Not now, not ever.” Maybe one day, he would freely—happily—let her go. Because Cookie wasn’t done fighting. “We’ve got time to figure this out, baby.”
He released a shuddering breath, relaxing further.
She pressed a soft kiss into his lips. “Sing me a song?”
Minutes passed in silence, the storm pitter-pattering behind her. She assumed he refused her request. But, as he combed his fingers through her hair, he released the first note. A haunting melody she felt in every cell. Once again, she melted over him.
He sang as he swept her against his chest and carried her to bed.
* * *
“WHAT DO YOU think of this, Kaysar?” Chantel stood before an erotic statue of a naked couple lost in the throes. “Beside the door or on the dais?”
Kaysar remained nearby. Yesterday, she’d found a trunk full of mortal clothes and gadgets she’d claimed with a shouted, “Dibs!” This morning she’d washed the garments, then donned a “tank” top, “yoga” pants, and a hideous green “bath” robe. Curlers covered her head, keeping her hair in tight ringlets.
“I’m taking today off from my royal duties and doing a little spring cleaning,” she’d told him, her gray-green eyes glittering with challenge. “The people will love the end results.”
“An erotic statue looks spectacular anywhere, sweetling,” he told her now.
“Oh, my gosh. You’re right.” She beamed at him and returned to her redecorating.
He ensured the servants obeyed her without hesitation as she ordered them to place this here and that there. Items she’d discovered in the treasure trove. Framed maps. Marble statues. Paintings. Furnishings and vases.