His lids dipped to half-mast. "Stay." As he peered at her, he ran his tongue over his lips. Then he moaned, as if he'd just tasted something sweet. The sight and sound were heady, hot enough to melt any woman's resolve--even hers. "And thank you," he said, whisper soft.
Not a rebuke. A total shocker. "You're welcome," she breathed.
A moment passed in silence, though her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Then, his gaze intently studying her face, he said, "How did you, a full human, come to live with the Phoenix?"
Full human.
She was right. He had no idea she was a halfling. And she had to keep it that way. "They killed my...my..." A lump grew in her throat. Sweat sheened her forehead, and a scream budded at the back of her throat.
Gently he cupped her cheeks, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. "This again."
The contact centered her--delighted her. "This?"
"The panic. Why?" he asked. "You truly are not in any danger."
She closed her eyes to gather strength, and said, "I was remembering when I was in danger. The Phoenix killed my husband and father, and enslaved me and my mother."
"You were married?" The words lashed like a whip. He released her as if he'd just found out she was a carrier for the worst disease ever. "How long?"
Okay. Not the bit of info she'd expected to garner a reaction. Why did her marital status even matter? "Yes, I was married. For the best three months of my life."
"Why?"
"Why?" she parroted. What kind of question was that?
"Why were they the best?"
"Because we loved each other." Why else? "He was compassionate and caring, sweet and gentle, and the best thing to ever happen to me."
A sheet of displeasure glazed Thane's irises as he rubbed two fingers along the curve of his jaw.
Why displeasure?
"How old are you?" he asked.
"Twenty-one."
"So young." He reached out and pinched a lock of her hair, tickling her scalp. Guess she'd been cured of the disease. "How long were you with the Phoenix?"
She resisted the urge to pull away--and the stronger urge to lean closer. "A year."
"A year. Twelve months. Fifty-two weeks. Three hundred and sixty-five days. Quite a long time for someone of your species." His tone gentled, becoming achingly kind. "How many horrors did you suffer during that time?"
The moisture in her mouth dried. She wanted to tell him. Perhaps he would comfort her.
Comfort, she'd learned, was a commodity far more precious than sex.
Can't go there with him. "I don't want to talk about it," she croaked.
He sighed, nodded. "I understand."
He wasn't going to press? Another shocker. It made her want to open up, if only a little, about something. "We had an ally at camp for a few weeks. There was a girl, a Harpy. Neeka the Unwanted. Do you remember her?" She didn't wait for his response. "She was only there for a short time before another clan came and stole her away, but she was nice to me, and I heard she was nice to you during your short overlap. Word is, she even beat the fire out of Kendra--almost literally--when the princess paraded you around camp naked and--"
"What were your duties?" he interjected, his tone harsh.
Uh-oh. Had she made a critical mistake, replaying one of his more humiliating moments? "I didn't see it," she tried to assure him. "I just heard--"
"Duties," he snapped.
She gulped. "I cleaned. And I was the entertainment," she added bitterly.
"Explain."
No way. Even mentioning that aspect of her captivity had been a mistake.
On your hands and knees, dog. Now bark.
A dog doesn't use a toilet. Go here.
No bath for you this week. Dogs lick themselves clean.
"At first," she said, as if he hadn't spoken, "I was responsible for all the meals. Then they realized how much I enjoyed cooking, and made me stop."
He ran his tongue over his teeth. "You will cook for me."
By "me," she assumed he meant the entire bar. "Uh, no, I won't." Stop arguing! But she couldn't keep her lips clamped shut. "I'd love it, truly, but I have a feeling cooks don't make as much money as barmaids."
"Money again. Why are you so obsessed with it?"
To tell or not to tell?
Do you trust him not to sabotage you?
Well, yeah. He was cold and hard, but he wasn't cruel. Not to her, anyway. "One day I'm going to open my own bakery and call it Let Them Eat Cake. Or Happy Ever Afters. Or Bundt Dreams. I haven't decided yet. But no matter what, it's going to be glorious. People will come from all over the world to sample my amazing desserts."
His eyes gleamed with an emotion she couldn't name. "Tomorrow, before your shift, you will bake one of these amazing desserts for me."
Thanks for asking. "Sure. That I can do. For a price."
He looked ready to crack a smile. "How much?"
"Like...a hundred dollars?"
"Are you requesting advice or telling?"
"Telling?"
He covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes glittering. The smile had cracked! "Very well. A hundred dollars." His expression cleared. "What did you miss most while you were a captive?"
Subject changed. Got it. Without missing a beat, she said, "Besides my family? Food."
His brow furrowed with confusion. "Family. You said your mother was taken captive."
A wave of pain washed through her. "Yes. But four months ago, she died."
Everything about him softened. He tenderly cupped her jaw and grazed his thumb over her cheek. "I'm sorry for your loss, Elin."
Her chin began to tremble. He's going to undo me. She forced herself to nod.
Taking mercy on her, he said, "What kinds of food did you long for?"
"Every kind. The Phoenix only fed me scraps."
Annnd, the softness disappeared, anger taking its place. "Like for like," he muttered. He stood, walked to the phone beside the wet bar and placed a call, his voice so low she couldn't make out his words.
Even when he hung up, he remained in place, his back to her. For several minutes, she played chicken with confusion--and the confusion won. What was going on?
A knock rattled the door.
"Enter," Thane called.
A large tray was wheeled into the room. The most divine scents wafted to her, and her mouth watered.
Elin hopped to her feet, the action involuntary, and rushed over. Breads, cheeses, fruits.
"All yours," Thane said, watching her intently.
"Really? Like, seriously? Because if so, you need to look away. Things are about to get weird." Waiting for him to reply would have taken too long. She attacked the food, a total savage, until there was nothing left.
Blimey. She moaned with keen satisfaction as she rubbed her belly. "Me and my new food baby thank you from the bottom of our cholesterol-filled hearts."
"Believe me, the pleasure was mine." The huskiness of his voice drew a blush to her cheeks.
"All I need now is an after-dinner scoop or twelve of chocolate-covered peanuts."
He motioned to the chair she'd vacated. "You like chocolate?"
"Almost more than breathing." Once she was in place, he reclaimed his perch on the coffee table. And leaned in closer. She gulped, unsure of him...or unsure of herself?
"Did you have a lover?" he asked, picking up their conversation as if it had never lagged.
I can do this.
She knew what he was asking. Was there a man out there among the courtyard throng she would try to free? "No. I promise you, no."
His gaze dipped to her lips, lingering. "Did you want one?" So silkily asked.
A shower of delicious shivers stole through her. Was he trying to seduce her? Because he was doing just that. The heat of his body tickled her skin. The sultriness of his scent pleased her nose. The rasp of his voice enchanted her ears.
"N-no," she said, gripping her pants to keep from reaching for him. Not until I met you.
Almost in a trance, he traced a fingertip along the scars on her palm, stopping at the pulse hammering in her wrist. Her insides tingled and burned. Her stomach quivered.
Feels so good.
"You have such a slender bone structure," he said quietly.
Her breathing was so shallow she worried it would just stop. This was not part of the plan--this was totally anti-plan. Gotta get away from him. "May I go now?" she practically squeaked.
He blinked into focus, shook his head. Then he stiffened, his ease with her vanishing, the stolen moment of tenderness broken. He straightened, severing contact. "Yes," he barked, and waved toward the door. "Go."
She didn't wait for him to change his mind, but popped to her feet and raced from the room without looking back.
CHAPTER EIGHT
XERXES BURST INTO the antechamber, stalked to the wet bar, and drained a three-finger shot of whiskey. Then another. And another. His dark temper churned under the surface of his pale, scarred skin.
"She got away, I take it," Thane said.
"Yes."
It was funny--in an appalling way. He'd been thinking that very thing for the past hour. She got away. But rather than Cario, his torment centered around Elin. He hadn't moved from the coffee table. Had sat there aching.
Aching because of her nearness--and absence.
Aching because her softness and warmth had been taken from him.
Aching because her soap-and-cherries scent had stayed with him.
A thousand times he'd almost jumped up and chased after her, the little human too pretty and fragile for her own good, a force greater than himself pulling at him, demanding he act. But he'd resisted. He didn't understand the things she made him feel. Obsession. Jealousy...
Her dedication to her dead husband...
Thane banged his fist against the coffee table, cracking the stone.
"I appreciate your anger on my behalf," Xerxes said drily.
"You're welcome," he replied, distracted.
How did Elin feel about him?
He knew she feared him. But he suspected--hoped--part of her wanted him. When he'd touched her, her breath had hitched and her cheeks had flushed. But in the end, the fear had won, and she'd scampered away.
For the best. He stared at the scabs on his hands. Today, he'd put his talent for causing pain to good use and punished Kendra for punishing Elin. The princess had fought back, especially when he'd gone for her ears. If Elin had seen him then...
Elin, who had used her finger to kiss him and make him better. Her fear would never fade.
It had to fade. Only then could he allow himself to have her.
You plan to take her now? Yes. No. If he were to get her in his bed, he would whip the sweetness out of her, and the thought disturbed him more now than ever.
Doesn't have to be that way. In her presence, his desire for pain untwisted from his desire for pleasure.
Why?
You know why. She suffered at the hands of the Phoenix. Suffered terribly--and enough.
"What happened?" he asked Xerxes. He had to get the girl out of his head.
"Now he talks to me." His friend settled on the couch. "I don't know. We were free-falling. Halfway down I caught her. She cupped my face, told me to remember, and vanished."
So. The girl could flash, moving from one location to another with only a thought. Explained a lot. "Remember what?"
Xerxes met his gaze and quirked a brow.
Right. If he knew, he wouldn't be so frustrated.
"I see her, and I have to force myself to look away," the warrior said, rubbing the center of his chest. "But I do force myself, because looking at her brings grief. In my head, and in my heart."
Can't stand the thought of him grieving. "May I suggest knitting to help you forget your--"
Xerxes threw the glass at his head.
Chuckling, Thane easily dodged. "No? Then how about a walk through the courtyard?"
He led Xerxes to the courtyard, and they strolled along the walkway. The scent of blood, both old and fresh, saturated the air. Moans of agony created a symphony of horror. He couldn't summon a smile, even though the Phoenix deserved this and more.
Hate them.
But are you willing to fall from the skies for them?
Stiffening, he glanced at Xerxes. "Do you ever wonder what would have happened to you if you'd avoided capture by the demons?"
"All the time," his friend replied, swiping up a twig and snapping it in half. "I would be the man I was, happy, fulfilled, but I would be without you and Bjorn, and that's not okay with me."
A perfect example of finding beauty from ashes. The world could be a conniving harlot, as evil as a demon, but love would defeat her, every single time. Love never failed.
They reached the spot where Kendra was staked to the ground. But for the first time, Thane was not satisfied seeing her brought so low. He was treating her exactly as the demons had treated his friends.
Silly thought.
Frowning, he spread his wings and slowly crouched to one knee, meeting Kendra's gaze. She was thinner than she'd been at camp. Her cheekbones were gaunt. Limp strawberry-blond hair tangled around her head. Blood dripped from the holes where her ears should be. Cuts marred her lips, and dirt and blood streaked her naked skin. Every bit of exposed skin was blistered, some of it burned so badly it had blackened.
She was awake, lucid.
"Do you regret your treatment of me?" he asked, knowing she couldn't hear him.
Her eyes were wide, beseeching him. He could imagine the words she was trying to project at him, her throat too dry to let them form. Thane, please. I never meant to enslave you, didn't realize what I was doing to you. It was an accident. A misunderstanding.
No. She did not regret. She made excuses!
"Do you think the new king will come for you?" he asked, tracing his knuckles along her jawline. "Do you think he'll fight for you, the daughter of his beloved Malta? That he'll want you unharmed?" He paused for effect. "Think again. Ardeo will fight for the others, but not you. You're the niece of Malta's murderer."
As she tried to speak, incomprehensible sounds sprang from her. She began to struggle against the stakes, attempting to pull herself up and off. She only worsened her injuries.
He took a small bit of satisfaction from that. "What say you, Xerxes? Should I end her misery?"
"If you'd like her to repay you with a dagger, yes."
Grinning coldly, Thane straightened. "One day," he said to Kendra, "I'll tire of seeing you like this. One day, I might even let you go. But that day is not today."
*
SNAKING A CORNER, Elin ran into Thane. Literally ran into him, and almost dropped the cake she'd spent the past hour and a half baking. After leaving his suite, she'd needed a distraction, and gardening hadn't cut it, so she'd opted not to wait to wow him with her culinary genius.
His kitchen staff had protested--at first. Adrian had followed her there, and though he'd never said a word, his presence shut everyone up.
Mixing the ingredients, as she used to watch Bay do, had been as upsetting as it was gratifying.
Thane's strong arms banded around her to steady her. "Careful." He set her back a few feet and took the strawberry-vanilla confection from her hands.
Heat stained her cheeks. "Uh, sorry about that." Her body, the traitor, reacted to his nearness, as always, heating and tingling. "I was on a mission, and plowing forward without paying attention." Her gaze darted to Xerxes, who stood beside him. "Would you like to sample my dessert? I call it The Perfect Perfection. Trademark pending."
He looked at it, then at her. "I think I'll let Thane fall on this grena-- I mean, let him have all of this one." Clearly fighting a grin, he stepped around her and ambled down the hallway.
Thane remained in place, as still as a statue. "You baked already?"
There were streaks of black on his face and hands. Char? And what was with the bleak glaze in his eyes and the strain on his
features?
"I did. And I know it's not much to look at." The middle had fallen the moment she'd pulled the pan from the oven, and then the top layer had shredded as she'd spread the icing. "But I'm certain it tastes divine."
"You didn't sample it yourself?"
"No." The last time Bay made one, he'd fed her by hand. Her heart couldn't take any more trips down memory lane. "You'll be the first," she said, eager to know his opinion. "Please."
"Certainly." He balanced the cake in one hand and pinched the edge with the other. His eyes widened as he chewed.
That was a good sign, right? "Well?"
"It's... Hmm." He swallowed with obvious effort. "This is what you're going to sell at your bakery?"
"Yes," she said, trying not to take a defensive tone.
"The best in the world?"
"Yes." She stomped her foot. "Why?"
He ignored the question, asking another of his own. "And you enjoy baking?"
"Well...yeah. It was my husband's favorite thing to do."
"I see." He pursed his lips. "And what was yours?"
"Well..." she repeated. "I liked to help him."
Lashes practically fused together, he said, "I'm sorry, Elin, but this is..." He stopped, thought for a moment, and sighed. "I've had worse."
A polite way of saying it sucked. "You hate it, don't you?"
"I...do. I'm sorry."
Her shoulders drooped. "At least you're honest." She quickly rallied. "I'm out of practice, that's all." She snapped her fingers. "I know! I'll bake a few cakes a day and sell the slices to your customers. Soon, I'll do its name justice."
"I'm not sure--"
"I'll give you fifty percent of the profits," she rushed out. "And don't you dare say there won't be any profits. I'm not that bad."
"Very well." A gleam of pure calculation brightened his eyes. "We have a deal."
Why the calculation? "So, uh, yeah. Bellorie mentioned you had a library here." Wise to change the subject before he changed his mind. And wise to leave his presence, like, now. "Can you point me in the right direction? I want to check out a few books."
"You like to read?"
"Very much," she said.
One of his brows arched. "What type of books?"
Only, like, the best ever. "Romances."
"I have none of those."
"Oh," she said, trying not to pout.
"But I can get some," he added.
She perked up. "That would be awesome. Thank you. All right. Well. I guess this is good-night." She made to step around him, only to note the bleakness he'd sported earlier returning to his expression. A yearning to lighten his mood...his burden...or whatever it was that plagued him overshadowed her desire for escape. "Mr. Downfall, we need to relax you."