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.
Had she rolled there on her own, or had he pulled her over?
The contact had hurt him in more ways than one. His lust had returned full force.
After he’d eased her aside, he’d been more diligent, and remained awake, listening to her every breath, waiting for her every movement, remembering the way she’d made him smile, dying inside because he’d still wanted to roll over, on top of her, and strip her, and touch her, and do things to her, even though the very thoughts had him fighting back an all-consuming panic.
He didn’t deserve her. His moods were too mercurial. He was happy one minute, ticked off the next. He was decided on a course one minute, confused the next. She needed someone solid. Dependable. Like Torin.
She had no faith in anyone, she’d said, and that was downright sad. Whether Kane deserved her or not, he wasn’t going to let her down.
Kill her, Disaster said. It’s what she wants.
What she wanted wasn’t what she needed.
Tink’s lips parted on a breathy sigh, and his chest constricted. How innocent she was.
Kill her!
Kane turned and stalked from the room, the demon cursing him with every step.
JOSEPHINA HAD MANY duties, and serving breakfast to the royal family was one of them. A decree straight from Queen Penelope, meant to humiliate her at the start of her day, every day.
Waiting to begin, Josephina pressed against the far wall in the dining room, holding a pitcher of freshly made pomegranate juice. She should have been finished already, should have returned to her housecleaning, but no one had arrived. Everyone was probably busy congratulating Kane and Synda on their upcoming nuptials and the happy couple was probably gorging on the compliments.
Oh, Kane. Everyone’s right. We’re so beautiful together, Synda was probably saying. So perfect together.
I’m perfect for everyone, Kane was probably replying. But I’m glad I ended up with you.
The pitcher shattered in Josephina’s hands.
Cold liquid seeping through the fabric of her gloves and making her gasp, she rushed to the kitchen and gathered the rags she needed, trying to evade Cook’s eye. He welcomed any chance to lash out at her.
Once, as a means of punishment for one of Synda’s crimes, Josephina was starved for a week. Three days in, the hunger pangs had become so severe she’d snuck into the kitchen and stolen a hunk of bread.
Cook had caught her, but had vowed to remain silent if she would spend the night in his bed. She’d turned herself in instead, and he’d never forgiven her.
So, maybe she hadn’t been entirely honest with Kane. Maybe some of the men—other than her brother—did see her as more than a blood slave.
Annnd...Cook cleared his throat, and she glanced over.
“What did you do now? What new problem have you caused me?” He stomped over to her. He grabbed her by the wrist, only to rear backward with a wheeze. “You’re wet.”
“And your cooking sucks. So?”
“How dare you! I don’t care who you are, you will not insult my divine cuisine.”
“I just did.”
“Do it again. I dare you.”
Okay. “Your pies are flavorless, and your cakes are hard as rocks.”
His palm flew up and out, swiping over her cheek. Her skin instantly flamed, stinging. Josephina slapped him back. As he gurgled his outrage, she blew him a kiss and flounced away.
Maintaining a brave face, she cleaned the mess in the dining room and donned a fresh pair of gloves. Only after she had made a new pitcher of juice, with Cook avoiding her, did she return to her post.
The royal family still hadn’t arrived.
Inconsiderate toads!
She flinched at the uncharacteristic outburst. The ache in her cheek must be making her cranky. And, well, Kane had no business marrying Synda after he’d forced Josephina to spend the night in his room. He should have called off the nuptials with the rising of the sun!
And I never should have gone to him. Never should have thought to take him up on his offer, hoping to get him away from Synda.
Josephina had been mad about his engagement before, but standing there, thinking about last night, she became enraged. Kane probably didn’t remember, but he’d suffered from terribly violent nightmares last night. He’d cried out and he’d thrashed, but she had managed to calm him.
She had. Not Synda.
He’d held her for a long moment, his arms tight around her, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go, then he’d rolled her to her side of the bed. Obviously, he’d gotten over his aversion to touch somewhat—and yet, he hadn’t tried to kiss or touch her.
He must be saving that kind of thing for the princess.
Why did that tear her into so many ragged pieces?
An engaged man shouldn’t share a bed with anyone but his intended, and anyone that did should be...should be...castrated!
I could help him with that, she thought. I have no experience with knives, but a quick slice and dice shouldn’t be a problem.
Contemplating mutilation? I don’t know who you are anymore.
I’m you, dummy.
What if Kane was already in love with Synda?
Why do you care?
I don’t. Okay, fine. I do.
She had lain awake for hours, trying not to enjoy her first taste of luxury, all the while hoping to sneak out of the bedroom the moment Kane fell asleep. But he’d lain awake for hours, too, and her eyelids had eventually become too heavy to hold up. Then, his thrashing had woken her, and she’d cuddled him, and she’d liked it far more than she should have. Had even been tempted to ask for more.
If Synda found out...
She raised her chin and focused on the here and now. Four small chandeliers dripped with hundreds of opals and hung over a long, square table hewn from gold, diamonds and sapphires. The chairs were carved in the shape of dragons, with cobalt velvet lining the seats. Colorful murals of naked, frolicking Fae decorated the walls, and a soft white rug lined the floor.
There were three windows, each overlooking the flower garden out back. She adored that garden, and allowed herself a peek outside—wait. Armed guards were running toward the gate.
Something was happening. What—
King Tiberius strolled inside the room at long last, his latest mistress on his arm. Josephina snapped to attention. The mistress was lovely, to be sure, but only seventeen years old. She’d had a bright future before the king had taken notice of her, and most likely would have married the richest of the Opulens; she would have had a family and never would she have wanted for anything.