She thrashed and spread her legs wider. “Kaysar, I’m so close again.”
“Let’s get you closer, hmm?” He draped an arm around the top of her head as protection. Rocked against her. Faster and faster, until he hammered at her. With his free hand, he pinched her pretty nipples.
“Like that, like that, like that,” she chanted. “Yes!”
Satisfaction swelled his chest as wonder glazed her exquisite features, her body coming for the third time. He’d done this. He had reduced this powerful queen to a creature of sensation, ruled by her body’s demands.
“Want to feel you coming.” He angled just enough to plunge two fingers inside her.
As her inner walls clenched around the digits, she clutched his wrist to ensure he remained there. Only when she sagged over the mattress did he pull them out, and wrap his soaked hand around his shaft.
The ecstasy and the pain. The duo ruled him. For the first time in his existence, he felt alive. But as he stroked himself while pinning his sweetling, his own climax remained at bay. Why, why? Stroking, stroking. Faster. Harder. Still no climax.
Frustration dulled the pleasure, the bliss slipping further away, and he roared.
Chantel lay beneath him—still coming. She lifted her head to lave his nipples. “It won’t stop. It’s so good. You’re so good. Kaysar? Please, come for me. You said you’d give me everything.”
As he pumped his length, the head of his shaft grazed her clit. Her back bowed, and she screamed.
Blessed euphoria ripped through him. The shattering he’d expected. A culmination thousands of years in the making.
Kaysar threw back his head and bellowed, climaxing over his female’s dress.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
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.”
Had he meant the words as a warning? “Then I’m glad.”
Did he realize he flexed his fingers on her scalp?
“Who’s Drendall?” she asked as the question popped up.
The combing paused for a moment. “My sister carried a doll. Very beautiful, this doll. Viori’s most favorite toy. She took it everywhere she ventured.” He paused as his gaze drifted to a faraway place. “Viori was such a happy girl. Smiles for everyone. Except those who insulted her magnificent Drendall. I don’t remember where or how she acquired the doll, only that she clutched the little darling close at all hours of the day and night. You look like Drendall.”
She did? “Is that why you responded to me at the beginning? Why you like me? Because I look like a doll?” She supposed there were weirder reasons. Right away, she’d noticed Kaysar’s dreamy serial killer eyes.
“I noticed you because you look like a doll,” he said. “I remain interested because you are...you.”
Well. Okay, then. She ignored the lump in her throat. “What’s your favorite memory of your sister?”
“The times I sang her a lullaby. She always fell asleep with a smile, her troubles gone.”
Cookie kissed his heart, offering comfort and affection, and brushed her knuckles over his throat. “Your voice is the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard.”
“My glamara revolves around it. I’m able to compel others to do my bidding or sing them to madness and health.”
A super cool ability to wield, and a terrifying one to face. “I won’t like it if you compel me to do something.”
“Have no worries, sweetling. I’ll never force you to do anything, you have my word. I covet your affection, freely given.” He cupped her nape and kissed her brow, a gut-wrenchingly sweet gesture. “You respond to my song differently than everyone else.”
She could tell he delighted in that fact, and yeah, okay, maybe she did, too. “I’ll share a secret with you. Your singing makes me horny.” In case he didn’t understand human slang, she added, “Horny is when someone gets turned on.” Wait. “Turned on is when someone wants to get laid.” Moving on. “If I hadn’t been busy murdering those soldiers, I would have thrown myself at you on that battlefield.”
His fingers flexed on her. “Truth?”
“Truth.”
He groaned and shot rock hard. “Allow me to reveal to her royal highness what I have planned for her this morning, before I become distracted,” he said, playing with her hair again.
Oh! Her first official day as queen of her own castle. Bouncing against him, she squealed, “Yes, yes. You are allowed. Tell me.”
His chuckle tickled her ears, unleashing a tide of shivers. “I’ve arranged for your subjects to pour into the palace. They will offer gifts to their beloved queen and beg for the opportunity to serve your every whim. Once you grow bored of the constant adoration, you’ll begin your training with the doormaker’s apprentice.”
A thousand times yes. “What else, what else?” His delighted expression told her there was more.
“Our oracle, Eye, has been commanded to do nothing but await your summons. When you are ready, she will peer into the mortal world and show you Pearl Jean and Sugars.”
What? “Are you for real?”
“I am very for real,” he deadpanned.
“Oh, Kaysar.” Cookie sniffled as she hugged him tight. “Thank you for arranging the most special day of my life for me.”
He snaked his arms around her, lightning fast, holding on. “Will you do something for me in return?” he asked hesitantly.
“Yes. Anything.”
“No caveat?”
“Within reason,” she added, and he flashed a smile.
Appearing tormented a moment later, he said, “If you remember a portion of the princess’s life, any portion in any capacity, or if you feel a single flicker of her emotions, you will let me know. Do not wait to tell me, even for a moment. Stop whatever you’re doing and find me. Interrupt me, whatever I’m doing. Give me an opportunity to explain all the reasons Lulundria was wrong to feel what she did.”
He couldn’t need his vengeance the way he needed Cookie. He just couldn’t.
Her chest squeezed. “Agreed. But Kaysar? I honestly don’t think I’ll remember anything else. If she’s in here—” Cookie tapped her temple, then her heart “—she’s not strong enough to show me anything else. I’m probably too powerful or whatever.” To be honest, she kind of believed the two visions she’d seen had been Lulundria’s last-ditch effort to warn her away from Kaysar.
The princess who died hating him had given Cookie a gift. For Cookie to shack up with her killer—yikes. A totally sucky move on Cookie’s part. No doubt it had a top spot on the list of How Not to Be Appreciative of the Person Who Saved Your Life. But she wasn’t backing down, reversing her decision, or giving Lulundria and Jareth Frostline a chance to change her mind.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “You learned to use her powers as naturally as breathing...as if she taught you herself.”
“Maybe it’s muscle memory? Or thanks to the elderseed?” Cookie hadn’t wanted to discuss it before because she honestly had no idea.
A knock sounded at the door, and she jolted. Kaysar came to his feet, his single set of claws curled in—ready.
His aggression awakened hers. She crouched on the bed, covering herself in vines and preparing to strike.
“Whoever stands outside that door,” he bellowed, fastening his leathers, “will be wearing their innards if I’m unsatisfied with the reason for this interruption.”
“The ballroom is ready, your majesty,” came the reply. A woman, oddly upbeat considering her life was at stake.
Kaysar’s irritation vanished in a blink. He brightened. “Your subjects await you, sweetling.”
“Wait,” Cookie cried, hit by an unexpected and violent tsunami of misgiving. What should she wear? How should she style her hair? Did she plan to be a benevolent queen or a malevolent one? A girl should know these things before she assumed a role of leadership. First impressions mattered greatly.
And what if Micah attacked her mid-queening on day one? She hadn’t yet honed her abilities—abilities he knew about. The element of surprise was gone. As a natural resident of this kingdom—and this world—Micah might know what weakened or stopped her. If he beat her in front of her own people...
No, no. Cookie needed training and a lot of it before she assumed control of her kingdom.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not ready, Kaysar. I won’t go to the ballroom, and you can’t make me. I’m staying right here, and yes, I will die on this hill. Don’t try to change my mind.” Her cowardice was humiliating. He was so strong, and she was being so weak. If he decided to ditch her because of this...
Good riddance.
“You will never die. You aren’t allowed.” He flittered to her side, sat on the mattress and cupped her cheek. He gentled his tone, saying, “Sweetling, the gathering was merely a suggestion. If ever I plan something that’s disagreeable to you, you have only to tell me, and I’ll gladly cancel it in favor of another. I can give you anything you want, but only if I know what it is.”
Okay. All right. Kaysar was kind of being amazing right now. Her heart rate and breathing slowed. “Thank you. I think I’d prefer to train with the apprentice this morning.”
“Of course.”
He kissed her brow. Rising to his feet, he called, “Eye! Send the people away immediately. Be sure they understand they have offended their queen with their impertinence, and they shall be punished if ever it occurs again.”
Cookie pinched the bridge of her nose. Malevolent it is.
“I’ve left a gift for you in the closet.” Kaysar smoothed his hair. Such a normal task for such an extraordinary man. He swiped his shirt from the floor, then tossed the material into the hearth. “I haven’t forgotten the kingdom mandate for shirts. I hope you’ll recall it, as well.” He winked at her. “Dress and meet me in the throne room. Your training will begin as soon as you’re ready.”
Perfect. “Where’s the—”
He vanished with a grin.
“—throne room?” she finished her question for an audience of zero.
Whatever. Gift! Cookie sprinted to the closet and flung open the door, soaring inside.
Everything looked the same, nothing added. Except... Head canted, she crossed to the built-in dresser. Something metal gleamed on the surface. A weapon?
Frowning, she lifted a thin line of links—metal claws tipped the ends.
Kaysar had given her the right set and kept the left for himself. One of the claws punctured a note. She freed the paper and read the flowing script.
Our team uniform.
Pressing the claws to her chest, she grinned and looked over her current dress choices. Whom did she want to be today? The evil queen or the innocent shepherdess?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
KAYSAR OCCUPIED CHANTEL’S throne room and perched on her throne, an elaborate monstrosity made from solid gold, with flowers carved throughout. He’d recruited a goldsmith to add them while she’d slept off the effects of the elderseed. Would his Briar Rose approve?
He eagerly anticipated her reaction. If she admired the throne even half as much as her jewels, she might dazzle him with another laugh.
Perhaps she would wish to return to their bed. His body needed more of her. And only her. No other living creature affected him so strongly. The cadence of her voice did things to him. Heated things. She teased and tormented him, leaving him desperate for more of her—for more of life. Who else filled his days with such stunning anticipation?
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