“Lulundria?” the Viking called. He’d gotten closer. “Please, sweetheart. Kaysar will recover from his injuries any moment.”
The two had fought, and the Viking had won? Dang. That sucked for her. And Kaysar. If the Viking prince was strong enough to incapacitate the centaur slayer, the fiercest warrior she’d ever met, what kind of harm could he cause Cookie?
An image of his ice daggers flashed, and she shuddered. Rephrase. How much more harm would he cause her?
Despite protesting muscles, she quickened her pace. The thorns it is.
As she advanced, branches slapped her. A sharp rock sliced the bottom of her foot. She muffled a shout of pain with her hand. Sweat beaded on her skin, stinging every wound, but she didn’t slow.
Keep going, don’t stop. Breath sawed in and out of her mouth. She jumped over a procession of fireants, her knees nearly buckling when she landed. Halfway there...
A twig snapped somewhere behind her. Cookie chanced a glance over her shoulder, her gaze darting. He wasn’t within sight yet. A relief. But it was only a matter of time. A worry. She plowed ahead, pumping her arms faster. Harder. Blood rushed in her veins, her hands heating. Suddenly ivy budded from her fingers.
The vines slithered away from her, as before, but they didn’t go far, and they didn’t create a doorway. What the—Ever-thickening stalks coiled around her, knitting a cocoon of foliage, covering every part of her body and rooting her in place.
Her heart continued to race. How had she created her branchy, leafy prison without thought or practice?
As she fought to control her breathing, the leaves eased off her. The ones in front of her eyes parted, providing a slit for viewing. Forget breathing. The Viking materialized roughly fifteen feet away. Frantic, he searched high and low.
“Lulu? Please, sweetheart. I know you’re here. The trail has stopped.” He shoved branches out of his way and kicked rocks, closing in on Cookie... “I love you. I’ve missed you so much.”
Closer still... Tremors sped through her. When his attention shot her way, blood rushed to her ears, and she froze, even her racing heart seemed to stop. But he merely cringed and moved on, skirting around the vine to avoid contact and continue his hunt.
He hadn’t noticed her beneath the leaves?
“Lulu, I know you’re nearby. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry I hurt you. I won’t let Kaysar win again. He will pay, I swear it. Where are you? Have you remembered me yet? I can’t flitter you to safety if I can’t touch you.”
A new image flashed. The Viking, poised above Lulundria, his features strained but blissful as his baby blues peered at her. That look...what was it? Love? Adoration, maybe. It was the kind of look Cookie had never received. An expression she’d yearned to see her entire life. She just hadn’t known it until now.
Her mother and father had usually only demonstrated disinterest. Boyfriends had mostly conveyed horniness. Pearl Jean and Sugars had come close to adoration, but the pair had their own defenses to overcome, and Cookie had refused to push.
How could the prince look at Lulundria like that, then kill her? He’s worse than I realized. As bad as the centaurs. How many other innocent, defenseless women had the Viking harmed in his lifetime? How many would he harm in the future, if someone didn’t stop him?
If only Cookie could command her body with a remote control right now. His mutilated remains would be splayed at her feet already.
“Lulu, please,” he whisper-yelled, growing desperate. “You’re injured. The thought of your pain... You need my help, and I need to help you. Sweetheart, I know what happened to your heart. The pixies told me. Please, don’t worry. We can navigate this together.”
The pixies—Those wretched gossips!
The burst of temper reminded her of one in particular, and she scowled. Give her five minutes alone in a room with Thumbelina, and Cookie would be picking pink pixie out of her teeth.
“I might be a stranger to you right now, but I’m a stranger willing to die to protect you. Lulundria? Please.” The Viking spun this way and that. “Kaysar is fast on my heels. If he discovers you—”
“Too late,” a familiar voice announced. “He’s discovered you already.”
Kaysar. Her knees wobbled. He’d come for her, after all.
“When will you die?” the Viking snarled.
Her dark knight stepped into her field of vision and grinned. “Come now, Prince Jareth. Is that any way to greet a treasured foe?”