sighed. “For now, you can stay. We can negotiate one day at a time, as needed.”
“This pleases me.” His smile returned—sparking one of her own.
Vengeance didn’t stand a chance.
“Within the hour, your closet will brim with the finest garments in all the worlds.” He brought her hand to his lips and licked between her knuckles. “Otherwise merchants, servants and guards will die painfully. You’ll require something for every occasion, I’m sure.”
He seemed to love that her clothes highlighted different aspects of her personality, while other men might have fled in terror. Which made her appreciate her new ability—and Kaysar—so much more. They could have fun together. Something they’d both sorely lacked.
“You are too far away for my liking. Come closer to me.” He lifted her, then draped her torso over his. The same position she’d cherished at the outpost, with her cheek resting on his tattooed pectoral, directly over his heart. He hadn’t removed his pants. The fly gaped open, his shaft free and already semi-hard. The perfect complement to her own outfit—nature’s lingerie.
The warmth. The comfort and safety. The connection.
Mmm, the scents... Every breath carried Kaysar’s potent fragrance.
He combed his fingers through her hair. “Why did you never snuggle with someone before me?”
Going deep right out of the gate, sharing fears and insecurities. Okay, why not? They’d never done anything the un-weird way, so why start now? “Why get used to something you can’t keep? People get to know the real me and leave. That’s what they do. Pearl Jean and Sugars are my only stickers.”
“I will not leave you,” he boasted, and he sounded as if he meant it. “Fate did you a kindness with the others, sweetling. Anyone willing to leave you is a fool, and you are too precious to suffer fools. Also, if another male had snuggled you at any time, I would be killing him right now for daring to take what’s mine.”
She was only mildly embarrassed by her misty eyes. “That’s kind of you to say.”
“Yes, I am known far and wide for my kindness.” He smiled when she peeked up at him from her perch on his chest, then grew serious. “Have you introduced me to the real Chantel Cookie Bardot, then?”
“I think so? I mean, I’ve never felt more like or unlike myself at the same time.”
With the pad of his thumb, he traced the shell of her ear. “You are learning and accepting your own truths, perhaps.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong. “FYI—er, for your information, I like the real Kaysar.” Cookie had a feeling she was the only person who’d received an introduction to him. A murderous teddy bear with a big heart and a bigger erection.
“I’m glad. I’m not sure how to be any other way.”
Had he meant the words as a warning? “Then I’m glad.”
Did he realize he flexed his fingers on her scalp?
“Who’s Drendall?” she asked as the question popped up.
The combing paused for a moment. “My sister carried a doll. Very beautiful, this doll. Viori’s most favorite toy. She took it everywhere she ventured.” He paused as his gaze drifted to a faraway place. “Viori was such a happy girl. Smiles for everyone. Except those who insulted her magnificent Drendall. I don’t remember where or how she acquired the doll, only that she clutched the little darling close at all hours of the day and night. You look like Drendall.”
She did? “Is that why you responded to me at the beginning? Why you like me? Because I look like a doll?” She supposed there were weirder reasons. Right away, she’d noticed Kaysar’s dreamy serial killer eyes.
“I noticed you because you look like a doll,” he said. “I remain interested because you are...you.”
Well. Okay, then. She ignored the lump in her throat. “What’s your favorite memory of your sister?”
“The times I sang her a lullaby. She always fell asleep with a smile, her troubles gone.”
Cookie kissed his heart, offering comfort and affection, and brushed her knuckles over his throat. “Your voice is the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard.”
“My glamara revolves around it. I’m able to compel others to do my bidding or sing them to madness and health.”
A super cool ability to wield, and a terrifying one to face. “I won’t like it if you compel me to do something.”
“Have no worries, sweetling. I’ll never force you to do anything, you have my word. I covet your affection, freely given.” He cupped her nape and kissed her brow, a gut-wrenchingly sweet gesture. “You respond to my song