When Jareth finally bailed, Kaysar smoothed a leaf from her cheek. “Someone is enjoying her new powers, I see. As she should.” A husky chuckle fanned her lips, and she wanted to tell him to shut up and never stop talking. To be still and move against her. To let her go and hold on forever. “Lulundria created ivy. What you created is poisonvine. The difference is telling, don’t you think?”
“Telling?” she said, biting back a moan when he rubbed a massive erection into her crack.
“Mmm-mmm. Telling.” He nuzzled her cheek. “One was made for light, one for dark.” Holding her gaze, he slid the hand on her throat up and over her jawline, then traced the tip of a claw around her lips. The lightest of grazes, yet streams of pleasure arced to her core. “How perfectly you fit against me, princess.”
Concentrate on what matters. Survival. Knowledge. A ticket home. “What is poisonvine?” Would she hurt others with it, as she’d hurt the two women during her escape? Would she harm loved ones like Pearl Jean and Sugars? That—no. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. She would rather die than injure her family.
“Poisonvine is dangerous to most fae. It weakens them. But you, it will strengthen, I suspect.”
“What does poisonvine do to you?”
“Tickle,” he breathed. He nipped her earlobe and goose bumps erupted over her limbs. “Tell me, Chantel. What is this power you wield over my body, hmm?”
She had power over his body? Her? “None. Some?” Tons? “I don’t know.” He certainly wielded power over hers. As he held her and bestowed those gentle caresses, her muscles melted like butter. Focus. Right. “What’s your beef with Jareth?” And they did have a beef. A big one.
What had Jareth said? Why can’t we end this war between us, once and for all?
Kaysar tensed. “That is none of your concern.”
Six words, unbending command. If she asked again, he intended to retaliate. But how? She still wasn’t afraid of him.
Think this through. The battle between the two men hadn’t started with Lulundria. Kaysar only met the princess the day Jareth iced her. So why had the king risked his life to aid an enemy’s wife?
“Maybe you should let me go now?” she said. She needed a moment to think without him nearby.
Another chuckle. “Does my proximity bother you, sweetling?”
“Yes,” she burst out. “And I’d prefer an endearment like Machete or Chops. Now be a good boy, and let me go.”
He moved his hands over her arms, so gentle, almost tender, never cutting her with those vicious claws. “Little doll, I’m not the one holding you captive. You are.”
Little doll? Breathing became an activity of the past. “How do I get rid of the stalks?”
“You haven’t learned to hold on to the stalks mystically,” he said, “so you must release your connection to them physically.” When he tapped his fingers on hers, she remembered the vines. Oh, yes. Right again. Yesterday, the stalks had withered when she’d ceased needing them. To her knowledge, she’d done nothing special.
As she eased her grip, the leaves withered, like the few times before, freeing her and her guest from their emerald prison. She sucked in a mouthful of clean, crisp oxygen that lacked Kaysar’s carnal sweetness. Finally, she could think again. Kind of. Mostly. A thrum of desire lingered...
He flittered in front of her, and she yelped.
“At the very least, give a girl a warning first,” she grumbled.
Too beautiful for anyone’s good, he removed a pair of boots from an overstuffed cloth satchel. “For you.”
She accepted without hesitation, clutching the shoes to her chest. “Thank you so much.”
He smiled at her as he removed the bag’s leather strap from his chest and offered it to her. Disconcertingly gleeful, he told her, “Your provisions are inside. You will carry them, of course.”
She frowned, the weight of the bag a little worrying. “Why of course?”
“My provisions aren’t cradled inside. Why would I carry it?”
Uh... “Because you’re a gentleman or whatever?”
Amused, he softly chucked her under the chin. “What a silly thing to say.”
Good point. Okay, trying again. “You should carry it to tick off Jareth.” He delighted in the prince’s misery. Was that why he’d aided Lulundria? To hurt Jareth? “He’d probably be super bummed to know his enemy helped the woman he believes to be his wife.”
He scanned her face, as if he needed to double-check the intent behind her words. “You will carry the bag, Chantel, or we will leave your provisions