His eyes gleamed with an emotion she couldn’t name. “Tomorrow, before your shift, you will bake one of these amazing desserts for me.”

Thanks for asking. “Sure. That I can do. For a price.”

He looked ready to crack a smile. “How much?”

“Like...a hundred dollars?”

“Are you requesting advice or telling?”

“Telling?”

He covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes glittering. The smile had cracked! “Very well. A hundred dollars.” His expression cleared. “What did you miss most while you were a captive?”

Subject changed. Got it. Without missing a beat, she said, “Besides my family? Food.”

His brow furrowed with confusion. “Family. You said your mother was taken captive.”

A wave of pain washed through her. “Yes. But four months ago, she died.”

Everything about him softened. He tenderly cupped her jaw and grazed his thumb over her cheek. “I’m sorry for your loss, Elin.”

Her chin began to tremble. He’s going to undo me. She forced herself to nod.

Taking mercy on her, he said, “What kinds of food did you long for?”

“Every kind. The Phoenix only fed me scraps.”

Annnd, the softness disappeared, anger taking its place. “Like for like,” he muttered. He stood, walked to the phone beside the wet bar and placed a call, his voice so low she couldn’t make out his words.

Even when he hung up, he remained in place, his back to her. For several minutes, she played chicken with confusion—and the confusion won. What was going on?

A knock rattled the door.

“Enter,” Thane called.

A large tray was wheeled into the room. The most divine scents wafted to her, and her mouth watered.

Elin hopped to her feet, the action involuntary, and rushed over. Breads, cheeses, fruits.

“All yours,” Thane said, watching her intently.

“Really? Like, seriously? Because if so, you need to look away. Things are about to get weird.” Waiting for him to reply would have taken too long. She attacked the food, a total savage, until there was nothing left.

Blimey. She moaned with keen satisfaction as she rubbed her belly. “Me and my new food baby thank you from the bottom of our cholesterol-filled hearts.”

“Believe me, the pleasure was mine.” The huskiness of his voice drew a blush to her cheeks.

“All I need now is an after-dinner scoop or twelve of chocolate-covered peanuts.”

He motioned to the chair she’d vacated. “You like chocolate?”

“Almost more than breathing.” Once she was in place, he reclaimed his perch on the coffee table. And leaned in closer. She gulped, unsure of him...or unsure of herself?

“Did you have a lover?” he asked, picking up their conversation as if it had never lagged.

I can do this.

She knew what he was asking. Was there a man out there among the courtyard throng she would try to free? “No. I promise you, no.”

His gaze dipped to her lips, lingering. “Did you want one?” So silkily asked.

A shower of delicious shivers stole through her. Was he trying to seduce her? Because he was doing just that. The heat of his body tickled her skin. The sultriness of his scent pleased her nose. The rasp of his voice enchanted her ears.

“N-no,” she said, gripping her pants to keep from reaching for him. Not until I met you.

Almost in a trance, he traced a fingertip along the scars on her palm, stopping at the pulse hammering in her wrist. Her insides tingled and burned. Her stomach quivered.

Feels so good.

“You have such a slender bone structure,” he said quietly.

Her breathing was so shallow she worried it would just stop. This was not part of the plan—this was totally anti-plan. Gotta get away from him. “May I go now?” she practically squeaked.

He blinked into focus, shook his head. Then he stiffened, his ease with her vanishing, the stolen moment of tenderness broken. He straightened, severing contact. “Yes,” he barked, and waved toward the door. “Go.”

She didn’t wait for him to change his mind, but popped to her feet and raced from the room without looking back.

CHAPTER EIGHT

XERXES BURST INTO the antechamber, stalked to the wet bar, and drained a three-finger shot of whiskey. Then another. And another. His dark temper churned under the surface of his pale, scarred skin.

“She got away, I take it,” Thane said.

“Yes.”

It was funny—in an appalling way. He’d been thinking that very thing for the past hour. She got away. But rather than Cario, his torment centered around Elin. He hadn’t moved from the coffee table. Had sat there aching.

Aching because of her nearness—and absence.

Aching because her softness and warmth had been taken from him.

Aching because her soap-and-cherries scent had stayed with him.

A thousand times he’d almost jumped up and chased after her, the little human too pretty and fragile for her own good, a force greater than himself pulling at him, demanding he act. But he’d resisted. He didn’t understand the things she made him feel. Obsession. Jealousy...

Her dedication to her dead husband...

Thane banged his fist against the coffee table, cracking the stone.

“I appreciate your anger on my behalf,” Xerxes said drily.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, distracted.

How did Elin feel about him?

He knew she feared him. But he suspected—hoped—part of her wanted him. When he’d touched her, her breath had hitched and her cheeks had flushed. But in the end, the fear had won, and she’d scampered away.

For the best. He stared at the scabs on his hands. Today, he’d put his talent for causing pain to good use and punished Kendra for punishing Elin. The princess had fought back, especially when he’d gone for her ears. If Elin had seen him then...

Elin, who had used her finger to kiss him and make him better. Her fear would never fade.

It had to fade. Only then could he allow himself to have her.

You plan to take her now? Yes. No. If he were to get her in his bed, he would whip the sweetness out of her, and the thought disturbed him more now than ever.

Doesn’t have to be that way. In her presence, his desire for pain untwisted from his desire for pleasure.