honestly, “You will get a devoted lover who will pleasure you in every filthy way you desire, help you slay any enemy you wish and lay his heart at your feet, if ever you ask.”
Her red lips parted. “You think repeated orgasms will bind me to your side. That I’ll do whatever you command, if only you keep me drunk with pleasure.”
“I’m staking a lifetime of happiness on it.” Kaysar dropped his chin, the corners of his lips curling into a predatory smile. His glamara heated. Not enough to compel, just enough to singe. “The things I’m going to do to your body...”
Beneath the fabric of her severe gown, her nipples drew tight—he watched it happen. When she wiggled in her seat to assuage her aches, he almost roared with triumph.
She pulled at the stiff collar, softly asking, “What kind of things?”
He held her gaze. Throat suddenly raw, he told her, “There is nothing I won’t do to you. If you have a desire, I will fulfill it.” Menace seeped into his tone. “I will do this. There will be no other for you.”
Her features shuttered. With a flat tone, she told him, “There will be no other for you. For any reason, even vengeance.”
“Agreed.” He couldn’t release the word fast enough. She was considering his offer because of jealousy. She nearly frothed at the mouth at the thought of him with another. She must! The queen of the Dusklands was delightfully possessive, refusing to share her male with another.
Placing the glass at her mouth without tilting her head, she drained her wine. Closed her eyes. Drew and released a deep breath.
He shook, wanting to push his advantage. But he didn’t do it. Somehow he found the strength to tell her, “There’s no need to provide me with an answer today.” As long as she deliberated, they stayed together.
Her eyelids popped open, and he frowned. She appeared...disappointed. Had she hoped to bed him today—now?
Perhaps he would push his advantage, after all. “Answer a single question for me, sweetling, and we’ll reserve this line of conversation for another day.”
A stiff nod. “Very well. Ask.”
“Are you wet?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
COOKIE WAS STRIPPED to the studs while still fully clothed. Kaysar had destroyed her with his heart-wrenching confessions and earnest promises. He craved her bad. The guy claimed to want forever with her, and he might even possess the stones to actually stick around.
The problem, for Cookie, was his priorities. She’d been second, third and fourth choice all her life. Every forgotten birthday, broken promise and missed dinner had gutted her. To willingly sign on for a pre-ranked relationship—when you started off as the loser—was utter stupidity. The fact that she scored below his ideal of vengeance rankled.
They hadn’t known each other long, but their chemistry was off the charts. Their connection more so. Maybe, over time, his priorities would shift. But maybe not. Yeah, probably not. There was no one more stubborn than Kaysar.
And yet, despite every reason to bail, she remained seated, stewing. The problem had an obvious answer. Win him away from his vengeance. A battle of desires. Claim Kaysar’s heart in victory, and she would become first place.
Before their negotiation began, she’d considered him a candidate for a temporary fling. Now? Some of her barriers were reduced to a pile of rubble, and she saw the truth. He was a coveted war prize. One kiss, and he’d become her drug and her dealer. She craved another hit of the good stuff—connection.
Falling asleep in his arms every night. Waking beside him every morning. Conferring over battle plans. Dispensing their brand of justice throughout the land. Redecorating this castle and making a real home together. Their home. Yes!
Could she win the Unhinged One, though? Did she want to try?
Their courtship, for lack of a better word, wouldn’t be easy. Two hardheaded royals, each with a point to prove? Are you kidding me? Fights were a guarantee. Knock-down-and-drag-outs that were sexually charged to the max.
And yes, she thought of herself as a fae royal now. No, it wasn’t a big deal.
“I asked you a question, Chantel.” Kaysar reclined in a pose of total relaxation. Those whiskey irises told a different story. An epic fantasy of war and seduction. He was a warlord soon to demolish any obstacle in his path.
The barest whimper escaped. She shifted in her seat. Reeling...steadying. As she locked gazes with him, she centered. He was right. There was no reason to agonize over this decision today. He wasn’t asking for