Which wasn’t nearly as disgusting as expected. It wasn’t even upsetting.
It was deserved.
Mutters of shock erupted as the other centaurs comprehended their leader’s fate. The soldier in front of her startled, rearing up, tilting her alignment. She slid down the log. The other soldier couldn’t maintain his grip, and the log slipped off his shoulder.
Both the trunk and Cookie slammed into the ground. Air burst from her lungs and dirt plumed around her. She coughed, desperate for oxygen, and—“Argh!” A centaur tread on her ankle, crushing her bones.
Cookie screamed behind the gag, lights flashing, blinding her. Nausea churned in her stomach. She wheezed her breaths, the agony threatening to shut down her mind. Stay awake, just stay awake.
Won’t be a sitting duck. She blinked, shook her head, willing herself to heal. Her vision cleared, and she craned her head to search for Kaysar...
One by one, the centaurs collapsed, each gushing blood. Or missing a head. Every other blink, she caught a glimpse of Kaysar as he moved through the ranks. Crimson soaked him, his expression ecstatic.
He loved this.
Terror gripped her and squeezed. Okay. Maybe she didn’t need his help, after all. If she’d misread the vision, if ever he focused his murderous sights on Cookie, she would lose. For now, she was better off navigating the forest and its survivable dangers on her own.
She bucked and contorted, doing her best to free her arms from the rope while pushing her way up the log. If she failed to succeed this way, she planned to succeed that way.
Slow down. Think. Fear is at the wheel, urgency setting in.
She ignored the warning. Cookie wanted out of this—Yes! See? Success. One hand free, then the other. Whipping upright, she yanked off the gag, then worked on the rope around her poor damaged ankle. To her amazement, she’d already begun to heal. In a matter of minutes, she might even be racer ready.
Come on, come on. What if Kaysar focused on her next?
Finally, the rope gave. Cookie lumbered to her feet and threw a swift glance over the battleground, tensing as realization set in. Only two centaurs remained. Time to go.
She launched forward, losing her houseboots as she zoomed past a line of trees—“No!”
Kaysar appeared, towering in front of her. Unable to slow, she crashed into him and bounced back, stumbling but remaining upright.
Breathe. Just breathe. This was fine. Everything was fine. Yes, okay, he looked a bit insane right now, his eyes maniacal as he surveyed her from top to bottom. But. He hadn’t retaliated when she’d slammed into him. His intentions toward her might not be terrible.
She backed away, step by step, but kept her gaze upon him, just in case. Blood drenched a powerful body humming with aggression. After all the damage he’d caused, he wasn’t winded. If a centaur had managed to injure him, she found no evidence of a wound.
Voice a rapture-inducing growl, he asked, “Where do you think you’re going?”
Far from here? Forever? Fingers crossed.
She paused a good distance away and held up her hands, palms out. A gesture of innocence or an attempt to ward him off, she wasn’t sure. Either way, so far, so good. “Hi. Hello. First, I can’t thank you enough for the save. While I’m not a fan of being a damsel in distress, I’m glad I’m not dying.” Very smooth. But true. “Right? I’m not dying?”
Eternal seconds ticked by without a response.
Okay. Moving on and trying again. The Cookie way. “I’m Cookie Bardot. Well, my first name is actually Chantel, but friends call me Cookie. Apparently, cookie was my first word, and also all I ever wanted to eat. But I’m babbling, sorry. I do that when I appear in a strange world, where mythological monsters eye me with mental forks and knives and a guy with sexy ears comes along and murders everyone.” She forced an airy laugh, her cheeks heating. Had she told a homicidal maniac he had sexy ears? “Anyway. Short story long, you can call me whatever you want.”
He fingered his ears before shaking his head and scowling. “Chantel? Cookie? No. Your name is Lulundria. Though I can be persuaded to use the name Drendall upon occasion.”
Uh-oh. She detected a note of anger. Anger. From an unashamed killer who’d displayed zero anger before gutting the centaurs. “Sure. I’ll answer to Lulundria. Or Lulu. Even Lue. Or Drendall. Dren is nice, too.” Who were these women? “I’m easy. Easygoing, I mean. Not easy—never mind. You