He was cold. But he was kind.
He was fierce. But he was tender.
He was cruel. But he was sweet.
If she weren’t careful, she would become smitten with him—and end up heartbroken. He couldn’t be trusted. He’d kissed her, but he had no plans to break his engagement to Synda. He’d kissed her, but he was thinking about dating another woman, the blonde from the tavern.
How many females did he have dangling at the end of his beautiful rope?
Too many. Obviously.
And Josephina had almost become one of them.
I’m going to have to erect a wall of ice against him.
She’d expected her first experience with passion to be gentle—if ever she’d weakened enough to succumb to a male’s charm. She’d expected a hesitant exploration, cool, a little tame, and yet there’d been unbearable heat, necessary heat, and her every pulse point had turned into a wild drum. A frightening beat, but oh, so thrilling.
Kane had ownedher mouth, had staked a claim and demanded a response, and she had been unable to deny him, unable to hold back, not wanting to hold back. He’d tasted of whiskey she hadn’t seen him drink, and he’d intoxicated her. His hands...in her hair...on her arms...her waist...he’d caressed and he’d squeezed and he’d left a white-hot trail of need in his wake.
For the first time in her life, she’d felt alive. She’d had something to look forward to, something worth the hardships she faced. But then he’d pulled away, as if she had disgusted him, and yes, she’d wanted to cry.
Knowing the disgust had nothing to do with her assuaged her. But it also made her want to cry. What he’d endured in hell had left him scarred, and he needed to move slowly, to wrap his head around the things his body was feeling, but he didn’t want to move more slowly with her. So, fine. Whatever. The other two women were welcome to him.
Squaring her shoulders, Josephina kept pace beside him. He stopped in front of the Devil’s Punchbowl and met her gaze. “The Fae can pretend they’re better than you, but that’s all they’re doing. Pretending. There’s no onebetter than you.”
He didn’t wait for her response, but shoved his way inside the building.
Reeling, she followed after him. What had...why... Surely her translation from English to...uh, English had screwed with the essence of his meaning. He’d just lavishly praised her, even though he didn’t want her? Something had to be off with her thinking.
“Maybe you should forget the fight and we should go somewhere to talk about our—” My poor eyes. Wearing only her undergarments, Synda was dancing on top of a table, her gown swinging from her upraised hand. The men hoping to pummel Kane into blood and pulp circled her, cheering and clapping.
At least the rest of the patrons had cleared out, leaving no other witnesses to the princess’s behavior. Still. Josephina would be penalized for this. Lewd acts among the Opulens were encouraged, often rewarded, but this was a common bar and these men were...she wasn’t sure what they were.
The blonde—the one Kane wasn’t supposed to date—sat in the back corner, eating grapes, unconcerned by the chaos around her.
Josephina disliked her immediately.
“Gentlemen,” Kane said, sounding calm.
All four males looked over at him. Three lost their smiles. The other—William—just grinned wider.
Silence reigned...until Synda spotted him and sighed. “Is the fun over?” she asked with a pout.
The grinning warrior stalked forward. He had dark hair and the electric blue eyes of the Fae, though he clearly wasn’t Fae. The power humming from him was too...unique. It was also the strongest she’d ever encountered. One touch, and she suspected the man’s energy would cause her body to combust.
“Candy Kane,” William said. “You’re back.”
Kane nodded in greeting. “I like it.”
“And there’s Ivanna B.,” William said to Josephina. He held out his hand, intending to clasp hers and perhaps bring it to his lips for a kiss.
What did that name even mean?
Before she could reach out, Kane batted the man’s arm away with enough force to crack bone. “No touching.” The fierce warning in his tone echoed from the walls.
“I’m wearing my gloves,” she said. “I wouldn’t have hurt him.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about.”
Her?
“You’ll share your soon-to-be bride, but not her servant,” the other man said good-naturedly. “That’s not weird at all.” To the others, he called, “Clear a space. The battle is about to begin.”
The men rushed to obey. Soon the tables and chairs were pushed against the walls, leaving a circular clearing. Synda was escorted to the grape-eating female. Facing Kane, the man with pale hair cracked his knuckles. The bald one leaned his head left, right, aligning his spine. The dark-haired one withdrew two hooked blades.
Trembling, Josephina fisted the skirt of her soft new gown.
William paced in front of the eager combatants, saying, “First rule of Teach Kane a Lesson: you don’t talk about Teach Kane a Lesson. Second rule of Teach Kane a Lesson: you don’t talk about Teach Kane a Lesson. Third rule of Teach Kane a Lesson: if someone taps out, you just keep fighting. Fourth rule of Teach Kane a Lesson: there are no rules. Got it?”
Kane cleared his throat, gaining William’s attention. “Is it okay to kill them, or would you rather they survive?”
The man tilted his head to the side, as if he were actually pondering the question.
“Alive,” finally came the response. “But close to dying wouldn’t be a terrible thing.”
Uh...hello, confusion. Whose side was he on?
The males were confused, too, and hurtled curses at William.
The warrior shrugged, unaffected, saying to Kane, “I love them and I hate them. They’re a joy and a pain. I can’t ever decide if I want to hug them or choke them. Right now, they’re in need of an attitude adjustment, and I think you’re the man for the job.”
Kane led Josephina to the table where the blonde woman and Synda waited. “White,” he said, a warning. He gently pushed Josephina into a chair. “What I said to your dad goes for you. Don’t touch her.”
“Kane,” the woman—White—said. “Who is this girl to you?”
Josephina’s ears twitched, as she waited to hear his answer.
“That’s none of your concern,” he finally replied, disappointing her. “Just keep your hands to yourself or bad things will happen.”
The woman shrugged. “Very well. My problem is with you, not her.” She traced a grape over her mouth, licked away the juice. “I won’t allow the supposed fates to dictate my future, and if that means getting rid of you, I’m fine with that.”
The fates—the Moirai. Three women with an eternal case of verbal diarrhea. Josephina hated the hobags with every fiber of her being. Because of them, she had helped destroy her mother.
And they thought Kane and this White person would end up together?
Josephina pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. I won’t say a word.
Hitting doesn’t involve words.
“So kind of you, White,” Kane finally said, his tone cutting. His gaze moved to Josephina and stayed. He leaned over and planted his hands on the arms of her chair, caging her, surrounding her. “You are to stay put. Understand?”
She lifted her chin. “What reason do I have to do what you say? You and your hot-and-cold attitude are nothing to me.”
He rubbed his nose against hers. “I’m something all right, but I respect your fight against it.”
She...had no reply.
“Candy Kane,” William called, as she tried not to shiver. Kane’s nearness was addling her brain. “The clock’s ticking.”
Kane stayed just where he was. “You were right before, you know. We do need to talk, iron some things out.”
A lump grew in her throat, and she nodded. She found herself saying, “Be careful, okay?”
“Now that I’ve got something to look forward to?” His gaze dropped to her lips, lingered. “Definitely.” He straightened, ending the comfort—and sensuality—of the contact.