Her body screamed protests. Ants and other abominations crawled all over her, making her itch. If she could have peeled off every layer of her skin, she’d be nothing but raw muscle right now.
The centaurs had trussed her up into the perfect appetizer for any outdoor barbecue, planning to feast on her all-you-can-eat-buffet-style.
Hope you taste as sweet as you look, girlie. Soon you’ll roast on a spit, and I’ll pick your bones clean.
The earlier taunt echoed, sparking fury. As the horsemen had carted her through Nightmare Candyland, they’d speculated about the spices to use on her charred remains. They’d discussed owning nymphs as pets and claiming mortals as servants. She’d flowed from hysteria, to rage, to game mode, doing her best to think of an escape.
How many others had the centaurs harmed? How many others would they harm in the future, if they were allowed to live?
Oh, yes, she yearned to kill them. A desire that sprung from a place far deeper than the petty, vengeful side of herself that delighted when she witnessed a bad guy’s downfall. A place she’d never had the guts to face before. But face it she would.
For whatever reason, she’d never felt more alive.
“I’m done waiting,” the hottie with the incredible voice said. His name was Kaysar. He was the one who’d issued the command to return, and every time he spoke, she shivered.
He struck her as a man who murdered without hesitation, breaking a sweat or regretting his actions.
So why is he more attractive by the minute?
“Respond,” he said. “Before I start singing.”
Every centaur issued a rushed protest. Actual, flesh-and-blood centaurs. A fact that might forever blow her mind.
Why did the newcomer want her? Why fight an army to claim a stranger?
Unless he had nefarious plans for her, too?
Apprehension shook her. Before she embraced her panic, she should weigh the facts. In the vision, the pink-haired woman had jumped in front of this man, as if to shield him from the Viking. If she’d loved him enough to save him, he might not be such a bad guy. But what had happened to Pink after she’d gotten hit by those ice daggers? Had she survived? Did this man seek her out?
Cookie’s heart leaped at the thought, another question rising. Did she share a connection with the woman? She’d felt a leap during the vision. Now, she felt an undeniable tug of kinship. A knowing she shouldn’t be able to discern...
I have her heart.
The knowledge dawned, bright and sure. Did the man know the truth, too? Could he sense it? Had he come for the heart of his...lover?
Had he adored the pink-haired beauty?
If he could take on twenty centaurs and live, he could help Cookie. Out here, there were threats she knew nothing about. And never would she forget the two threats she’d learned about firsthand—treacherous pixies and poisonous vines. She needed an ally. A teammate. Someone who knew the lay of the land.
Hottie moved into a brighter beam of sunlight, as if stepping up to bat, and her breath caught. His jet-black locks gleamed with shades of cobalt, his dusky skin glimmering with flecks of molten gold. He had the most adorable pointy ears of all time, studded with metal.
“Your silence tells me you’d prefer me to make the decision for you, Race.” Confidence clung to him, a second skin oozing arrogance. “Is this true?”
His voice had dropped, awakening cells she hadn’t known she possessed, pleasure suddenly superseding each point of pain. The sensation lasted only a moment, and she hungered for more.
Wait—what? More? Mortification scorched her cheeks. Getting turned on because of a stranger’s voice—in the middle of a life-and-death situation—was so not okay. Even for Cookie.
“I... You...” Looking from Cookie to Hottie, the centaur named Race maintained his grip on the sword hilt. “I am keeping the girl?”
Race was the one who’d found her at the pond, and she delighted when his inhalations shallowed. Let him experience some of the terror he’d dished.
“You sound unsure,” Hottie replied, as smooth as silk. He smiled pure evil. “I must admit, I hoped you’d choose this path.”
He seemed to shift from one boot to the other, nothing more, but a bloody organ appeared in his hand.
Whoa. He’d attacked so fast she’d missed it? He’d teleported? What?
Race clutched the gaping hole in his chest, red pooling between his fingers. Eyes widening with pain and an ever-increasing awareness of his coming death, he collapsed. His body jerked once, twice, then sagged over the grass. A pool