Heartless Page 18

  “You consider me a Frostline,” she reminded him. “How can you not use me again?”

  Jareth listened to the conversation, but Kaysar didn’t care. To him, the outcome was vital.

  “You are anything but a Frostline, Chantel. You alone are safe with me. And innocents. Hurting you or others like you will never again be my goal. That, I swear to you. Give me a chance. I only need one more. I’ll prove myself worthy this time. We’ll work together, just as we hoped. Jareth’s father, King Hador Frostline, requires punishing.” He wondered... Was it possible...

  Was Chantel his woman? The one Eye spoke of?

  He remembered telling the oracle, I have no mate, I want no mate, and I seek only vengeance.

  Now, as he imagined Chantel in his bed, naked and spread for him and him alone, he nearly roared, needing her there as soon as possible.

  “Lu—Chantel.” Jareth appeared agonized. “I love my wife. Her love for me burns bright in her heart. You’ll remember our relationship, and you’ll love me, too. Please. Remember me,” he beseeched her. “As soon as you’re away from the king, you’ll return to normal.”

  Normal? “Shut your filthy mouth.” Kaysar withdrew and tossed a dagger, too fast for another to track. The blade sank into his opponent’s shoulder, silencing further requests. Chantel would not be remembering her time with the male. He forbade it. “She’s perfect, just the way she is.”

  “Thank you, Kaysar,” she said, humphing at Jareth the way he adored. “I happen to like myself just the way I am, too.”

  With a bellow, the prince yanked the bloody dagger free.

  She thanks me for defending her honor?

  His chest clenched.

  “You’ll pay for this,” Jareth snarled.

  “Will I?” Glamara heating his throat, he called, “Ogres. Come.”

  Insects went quiet, and the soft breeze died. What started as sporadic tremors quickly became a constant quake, every ogre in the vicinity rushing toward the clearing. A tree toppled as several of the massive brutes arrived.

  “You will not kill Prince Jareth,” Kaysar said, the command hot enough to sizzle. “But you may do anything else to him if he attempts to enter the waterfall.” He smiled at his glaring foe before offering his elbow to a wide-eyed Chantel. “Allow me to show you the Dusklands, sweetling. There’s a marvelous oasis I’m keen to explore with you. The golden roses are lovely this century.”

  She accepted without hesitation. “Golden roses, you say?”

  He led her through the water, his self-assurance mounting with every step. All would be well. He would make sure of it.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  COOKIE REMAINED AT Kaysar’s side as she emerged from the spray of water. The deluge did little to douse her fiery thoughts.

  In a five-minute span, she’d gotten a Kaysar 101 crash course. The abuse he’d suffered was a thousand times worse than she’d imagined, and her heart broke for him. The raw agony she’d heard in his voice had devastated her. Now he sought retribution for all he’d lost. It was his right. But he’d hurt innocents to achieve it—could he, would he truly stop? There were ways to punish people who deserved it without harming those who didn’t. Already her mind whirled with an idea...

  Was she ready to offer Kaysar her full trust? No. She’d meant what she’d told him. But she understood him better, and ditching him was no longer a long-or short-term goal. No, before she returned home, she planned to aid his vengeance, exactly as promised. Hador Frostline had a thorny green reckoning coming. But Jareth himself? She wasn’t sure. Was he a monster as Kaysar believed, or a halfway decent guy?

  You’ll return to normal. As if Cookie wasn’t good enough in “as is” condition.

  Maybe half monster, half decent guy?

  Whatever. Kaysar seemed to like her better than ever. Maybe something would happen between them at some point, maybe it wouldn’t. She wasn’t putting sex back on the table or anything, but she wasn’t storing her casserole dish in another room, either. As long as she managed her expectations, enjoyed him with no deep commitments, they could maybe, probably, possibly do...other things.

  She really, really wanted to do other things.

  His kiss had been a shock. The intensity of it. The intensity of him. She shivered even as she heated. Her body hungered for his, desire simmering in her veins, ready to boil over every time he cranked up the heat.

  Kaysar drew to a stop a few feet in front of the waterfall, and she wiped any lingering water droplets from her lashes. Oh, wow. Though she’d logged thousands of hours in every level of The Forest of Good and Evil, and the new terrain fit her expectations, the extreme change in scenery proved shocking.

  She’d gone from a lush, sunlit paradise with vibrant colors to a wasteland filled with ghostly smoke that curled from a fire-scorched ground. A dark cloud lingered overhead. There were no trees or flowers here. No weeds, even. Mountains consumed the distance, a fortress carved into the side of the largest.

  She and Kaysar poised at the edge of a floating rock. A gaping chasm of nothingness provided the sole path to flatlands.

  A bloodstained garment tumbled between the two turfs.

  “In my game, avatars cross the chasm on a cloud bridge, but I see no sign of any bridge,” she said, shocked by her calmness. “Oh, yes, and no big deal, but did you happen to notice what seems like millions of armored soldiers sitting atop centaurs, waiting on the flatlands, aiming arrows at us?” Each word contained a scooch more hysteria than the last. Her confidence in her abilities remained high, even though she’d changed into the pink dress, but she couldn’t pretend to be indestructible.

  “I did notice,” Kaysar replied, unveiling a you’re-going-to-die-screaming smile to the waiting soldiers. His easy tone possessed the sharpest edge, meant to draw blood internally. If ever a voice could kill...

  “I have no plans to harm you, King Kaysar, as long as you cooperate.” The statement boomed from the army ranks. A rough, husky timbre with a slight accent. The leader? “And do not think to sing your song to madden us as you have done to so many others. There is but a single hearer here. I made sure of it.”

  Kaysar’s song? What was so bad about his song? Jareth had freaked out about it, too.

  “As you can see,” the leader announced, “I have been expecting your arrival.”

  Wait. Back up. Had the guy insinuated that he and his men purposefully deafened themselves? To avoid a song?

  The army formed a half circle at the canyon’s ledge, blocking the left, right and center paths of escape, if Cookie and Kaysar ever crossed over.

  “You will leave or you will die,” he added, confident. Smug.

  Just got here, and it’s already game over?

  Kaysar couldn’t flitter. A bridge hadn’t magically appeared. Either they retreated or they cliff dived without a chute.

  Many of the soldiers held torches, soft amber light illuminating the warriors with arrows nocked and spears lifted.

  “Do not worry, sweetling.” Kaysar clasped and lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles, sending shivers down her spine. “These lands are mine. No one keeps me from what’s mine.”

  What else did Kaysar consider his? No, silly question. How did he think to defeat this many soldiers?

  Heat blazed in Cookie’s hands, traveling up her arms to collect in her shoulders. Vines prepared to sprout. The speed of her reaction astounded her, but the urge to protect her newly minted teammate was undeniable.

  “How kind of you to welcome my return with a gift. One of my favorites, no less. Foes to slaughter.” Kaysar’s eyes gleamed with delight, boosting her confidence. Perhaps the vengeful king knew tricks?

  A male in the center of the horde, maybe the biggest male in the batch, directed his mount forward. Though everyone else wore gleaming armor, creating a living, breathing Terracotta Army, he sported a plain black tunic
and leather pants. Standard attire. No helmet shielded his features. And what incredible features they were. Dark eyes currently smeared with black paint and pale skin. Straight nose and full lips. Jet hair spiked from his scalp.

  The fae certainly grew their men right.

  Without looking back, his men recognized the correct time to move from his path. They returned to their original spots as soon as he passed.

  The warrior giant kept his attention fixed on a female who stood before the entire army, with two torch-bearing soldiers posted at her sides. She used hand signals to communicate Kaysar’s words?

  A sudden icy wind brushed her nape, and Cookie spun. Ambush? Oh, yes. A blood soaked Jareth flew from the waterfall, his dagger aimed at Kaysar.

  Strike her partner from behind?

  Not on Cookie’s watch. In reflex, she dove at the prince with her arms outstretched. She intended to crash into him and knock him aside before contact with Kaysar. Her vines burst forth first, coiling around his wrist. He reacted as if she’d hit him with a wrecking ball, convulsing.

  As he plummeted, a spear whooshed past her, mere inches from her fingers, then embedded in Jareth’s shoulder, flinging him backward and pinning him to the rock wall. He never hit the ground.

  Everything happened so fast. Too fast for Cookie to disengage from the prince. Connected by a vine, she was dragged toward the rock wall herself—until a hard clamp on her nape and a harder tug hauled her against Kaysar. He snaked a powerful arm around her waist, trapping her body against his.

  “Let go.” He squeezed her hand, forcing her to release the vines.

  Leaves withered, ending her connection to Jareth.

  Heart galloping a hundred miles an hour, she spun and gripped his shirt. My hero! “Thank you, Kaysar.”

  “You meant to save me,” he told her, his voice nothing but gravel and smoke. He maintained his grip a moment more, the hand on her nape gentling. He roved his fingertips over her cheek. “You didn’t hesitate to risk your life for mine.”

  For a moment, she forgot their audience, her attention enraptured by his beautiful face. “I told you I’d be an asset to the team, and I meant it.”

  He tenderly swiped the pad of his thumb over the rise of her cheek, searching her gaze. “You are magnificent.”

  Admiration from a guy like Kaysar curled her toes.

  Jareth bellowed curses, struggling to free himself.

  Impatient, the leader of the horde called, “I am King Micah the Unwilling, ruler of the Dusklands and sovereign of the Forgotten Court, and you will heed my commands.”

  “What did you say?” Soft voice, homicidal tone. Kaysar lowered his chin, his mouth resetting into a vicious sneer as he focused on the leader. “Did you refer to yourself as king? Of my lands and a nonexistent court?”

  Okay. Cookie now understood how she and Kaysar could survive a battle. He would kill everyone in a rage.

  People gonna die.

  King Micah watched the interpreter. “You have not walked these lands for over two hundred years, King Kaysar. No longer do they belong to you. Everything you see is mine.”

  Each sentence seemed to toss a log onto Kaysar’s internal inferno. Undercurrents of hostility pulsed from him. “Twenty years or two hundred and twenty centuries matters little. What’s mine remains mine. Always. I won these lands. I own these lands.”

  “And I took them,” the would-be royal responded, his archers nocking their bows tighter.

  The pissing contest had just escalated into a DEFCON 2 situation, stage critical. Unless...

  Cookie flattened her palm over Kaysar’s thumping heart. “Put me in the game, coach. Give me the elderseed, and let’s see what I can do. Create enough vines to get us over the canyon? Maybe. Block any attacks? Surely.” A power boost couldn’t hurt. “Getting to safety and regrouping will be a piece of cake when we don’t have hundreds of weapons trained on us.”

  “I am weary of waiting,” Micah called.

  Kaysar ignored him. Sporting an indulgent smile, he anchored a finger under her chin and tilted her face higher. “You wish to fight as my teammate?”

  Her fluttering stomach flip-flopped. Her first real-life battle. With a pro, no less. “I do.”

  “Very well. We’ll do this your way. At the moment, I find I can deny you nothing.” Amid Jareth’s protests, her dark king pressed his lips to hers...

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MOUTH-TO-MOUTH CONTACT with Kaysar, in front of their enemies? A doubt surfaced: What if he did this for Jareth’s benefit?

  Cookie should care, right? But a ragged moan burst from her. The feel of this man.

  Her sexy king took full advantage of her surprise and thrust his tongue against hers. One second her thoughts raced, reminding her of cars on a highway. Just zoom, zoom, zoom. The next her mind quieted, fixated on the most amazing sensations. His taste was a rich dessert wine, intoxicating and addictive, and she had no defense against it.

  To her disappointment, the kiss ended far too quickly. He brushed the tip of his nose against hers, as if he wanted to apologize for the brevity, and rasped, “You are the most glorious female in existence, and I must have you.”

  Man, when he decided he wanted something, he went all out to obtain it. His ferocity attenuated her doubts, and she peered up at him, a little too dazed for her liking and a lot too vulnerable.

  Noticing something strange on her tongue, she frowned. What—the exotic flavor exploded at first crunch. Mmm. Delicious.

  “I hope you enjoy the rush, sweetling.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I know I will.”

  Rush? Wait. The morsel on her tongue. He’d used their kiss to pass her a slither of elderseed? Uh, when had he reached into the satchel?

  Oh, who cared? She swallowed and prayed the minute portion of elderseed worked fast. In the game, results were instantaneous. But...

  She waited.

  And waited.

  “Do you think I will hesitate to slay you?” Micah demanded. “I assure you, I’ll do what I must.”

  “Give her to me.” The second Jareth freed himself from the wall, he lunged for Cookie, attempting a grab-and-nab. As if she wouldn’t poisonvine him again. “You will come with me, wife. We tried this your way. Now we’ll do it mine.”

  Gone was the loving husband intent on protecting his bride. This man expected absolute compliance.

  With graceful, catlike reflexes she’d rarely never displayed, she danced out of reach. Well, well. Perhaps the elderseed had kicked in, after all.

  “You think to touch her?” With awe-inspiring speed, Kaysar swiped his claws at Jareth’s outstretched arm. “You dare to touch what’s mine?”

  He did think of Cookie as his. How did she feel about that, after everything that had happened?

  The prince’s hand flew into the chasm, severed from his wrist. A gruesome sight she found oddly satisfying.

  As if he’d known such pain before, Jareth clutched the bloody stump to his chest and wheezed. “I’ll rejoice the day I kill you, Kaysar.”

  Protective urges pitched and swelled. Harm her teammate? No. Oh, no. She’d end Jareth first, despite her companion’s protests.

  “The female may stay. The king and the prince have thirty seconds to take their feud elsewhere,” the one named Micah shouted, his voice a lash of anger.

  Another threat to her teammate. She saw red. Here was the thing about Cookie. She valued her partners, whoever they were. At game time, any bad blood between them got benched.

  In a flash, the burn returned to her arms. Hotter and hotter and oh! Her blood fizzled and sizzled in her hands, the tips of her fingers on fire. Shockingly, she saw no flames.

  The elderseed had really kicked in.

  When leaves budded from her pores, their tips vibrated, eagerly awaiting her command. She sensed their desire to obey. To conquer.
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br />   Power filled her head and flowed through her veins. As promised, she had charged like a battery—a ginormous battery with stores and stores of strength.

  Her thoughts realigned and smoothed out, the chaos that had lived in her mind for so long suddenly eased. For the first time, she knew who she was. What she was. She knew what she wanted and how to get it.

  Nothing could stop her.

  “Your time is up. We attack on three.” Micah raised an arm. Aggression and malice pulsed from his army, the soldiers shifting. “One.”

  “Oh, Kaysar. Isn’t this amazing?” Never had she felt so giddy. So alive. “My first actual battle. They threatened us, and now I get to kill them all by myself.”

  “Lulundria,” Jareth croaked. “Don’t do this.”

  “I’m looking at the real you, aren’t I, sweetling?” Kaysar appeared entranced.

  Micah’s determination remained unfazed. “Two.”

  “Will you keep count of my kills?” she asked her partner, clapping. She could hardly wait to begin. These men weren’t innocents; they were enemies. Enemies paid a steep price. Unlike Kaysar, this army and its king weren’t getting a second and third chance. “I want to make sure I share the correct tally with Pearl Jean and Sugars when I recount my tale of victory.”

  The barest hint of a smile teased the corners of his mouth. “There are three hundred and seven men before us. Something tells me your count will be all of them.”

  Even more wonderful.

  “What did you do to her?” Jareth screamed at Kaysar.

  “Three,” Micah called.

  A volley of arrows whizzed through the sky, whistling on approach. Knowing what to do as if she’d trained her entire life, Cookie lifted her arms. Vines shot from her fingers, branching into hundreds of other vines in seconds, forming a large wall.

  The arrows embedded in the stalks, and she felt every strike. But she liked it.