He kicked off his boots, but left on his pants, and climbed onto the mattress.
“We can’t sleep together,” she said with a tremor. “It’s highly improper.”
And probably dangerous. For both of them. “Will you be punished?”
A heavy pause before she said, “For spending private time with precious Princess Synda’s betrothed? What do you think?”
He sighed. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“We’ll see” was all she said.
“You guys seem pretty accepting when it comes to sex. Why was Synda punished for sleeping with the butcher’s son?”
“She’s Fae. He was human. Such unions are prohibited, since they lead to a dilution of the bloodlines.”
“I’m not Fae, yet the king will allow me to wed his precious daughter.”
“You’re a Lord of the Underworld. You’re a celebrity. Rules don’t apply to you.”
Good to know. “Your mother was considered human, which means the king—”
“Yes. It does. So?”
“So. Was he punished?”
“What do you think? He’s the king.” She ran her tongue over her lips, leaving a sheen of moisture behind. Gorgeous. Down, boy.“And you, well, you can have anyone you want without worry, too. Tiberius never chastises upper-class males for their extracurricular activities. They can have who they want, when they want. They just have to be careful.”
He caught the tinge of bitterness in her tone. “Has anyone ever...” Forced you.He couldn’t ask her. He wasn’t sure how he would react if the same question were presented to him.
“No,” she answered, anyway. “I’m only viewed as a sexual object at parties, when men have been drinking, but the most they ever do is pat my bottom.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. I’m certain you’re right. That it takes alcohol to find you attractive.”
“It’s a blessing and curse, I know. But then, I’m a blood slave, and nothing more.”
So innocent.She hadn’t even caught his sarcasm. “What about being amazing and wonderful? I believe you once described yourself that way.”
She flicked her hair over her shoulder, the picture of feminine pique. “I’m a person, too, you know. I deserve compliments every now and then, and since I’m the only one willing to give them to myself, I do.”
That might have been one of the saddest things he’d ever heard. “I think you’re beautiful,” he admitted softly. “And smart. And brave.” And so sexy he would have killed a thousand men and thrown them at her feet just for the chance to woo her...if only he’d been the man he used to be.
Her eyes widened. “You do?”
“Am I in the habit of lying to you?”
“No.”
“So there you go.” He forced himself to relax against the softness of the mattress.
She scooted away, as if she feared what would happen next.
“I’m not going to force myself on you, you have my word.” Gentle. Easy. “You stay on your side of the bed, and I’ll stay on mine, and you’ll leave in the same condition you entered.” And she would be the first.
“It’s still improper,” she grumbled.
“And that argument still isn’t going to sway me. Good night, Tink.” He reached over and extinguished the lamp. Darkness flooded the room.
At first, she did nothing. Then she fluffed her pillow and settled under the covers.
A breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding slipped free.
He peered up at the darkened ceiling, inhaling the sweetness of her scent, holding it, holding it as long as he could, unwilling to give it up until the last possible second. For the first time in weeks, his muscles began to unknot. He thought he might actually be able to fall asleep, to actually rest, and yet, he resisted. Tink would never be witness to his nightmares.
He could lash out. She could try to comfort him. In a dazed state, he could hurt her.
He would rather die than hurt her.
Annnd...his muscles were knotting up again, though it had nothing to do with the past. Tink was here, in his bed. Within reach. All he had to do was stretch out his arm, and his hand could cup the fullness of her breast. Then, slide lower. Lower still. Surely he would not have an adverse reaction to such innocuous contact. She was dressed, after all.
Still. She might respond. Might encourage him.
Might actually ask for more.
He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
Time for a distraction. “So...what’s the name of my fan club?”
“I thought you didn’t want to know.”
“I changed my mind. Apparently that’s allowed in our relationship.”
The sheets rustled as she turned. “Cataclysmic for Kane.”
He told himself to hush. He asked, “You ever been to one of the meetings?”
“I might have stumbled into one...by accident.”
“How many times?”
“Six...teen. Girls get lost very easily sometimes.”
He fought a grin. “So, what were you going to tell me when you reached my room?”
A weary sigh left her. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“It does. By the way, nothing happened between Synda and me.”
“A naked Synda,” she muttered.
He wanted to tell her the truth. But what would happen if he had to do something he didn’t like in order to reach his goal? The truth would then become a lie. He’d be better off keeping all his options open. But the nail in the coffin? A part of him needed to preserve some distance between them, and the engagement created it.
“Maybe, when I came to your room, I was going to tell you I’ve never met anyone as dumb as you,” she said, and he imagined her features scrunched up in what she probably hoped was a snobby expression. “You’re going to hurt so bad when you’re whipped for talking to me.”
Can’t laugh.“I won’t be whipped. The king and I came to an arrangement.”
“What! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were having too much fun counting my words.”
She muttered a few more choice names for him. “Yeah, well, Synda will be punishment enough, I suppose. She lives for the moment and nothing more. She forgets her every promise. In a few weeks, another man will catch her attention and you’ll be left with a broken heart.”
Resentment blasted from her, and he had to tighten his grip on the pillow to stop from reaching for her. “I may be dumb, but my Spidey-senses are telling me she broke your heart, too.”
She hmphed, as if he were crazy.
“Well?”
She must have been tracing circles on the sheet, because her knuckles brushed against one of his nipples. The contact electrified him, and he nearly shot off the bed.
“Maybe she did,” Tink said, unaware. “Long ago she promised to protect me from our father. Then, the very next day, she was caught stealing horses from visiting Harpies. It started a war, and punishment was decreed, but she said nothing as I was dragged away to be whipped.”
The story doused his lust. “I’m sorry,” he replied, hurting for her. “I really am.”
“Thank you.”
Did she look as sad and exhausted as she had sounded? “I’m going to make things better for you, Tink,” he vowed. Somehow, some way.
She sighed. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“No faith in me?”
“No faith in anyone.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KANE STOOD BESIDE the bed and peered down at Tink. Sunlight streamed in from the window, and, as if drawn to her, enveloped her and her alone. Spotlighting her. Highlighting every luscious nuance. She exuded peace to an astonishing degree. A peace he craved for himself.
She was Sleeping Beauty. Or, more accurately, Cinderella, complete with an evil stepmother and half sister.
Too bad for her, Kane was to be her Prince Charming.
He hadn’t meant to, but at some point, he’d fallen asleep. A nightmare had awoken him—and he’d found Tinker Bell asleep on his chest.