shook his shoulder. His skin was shockingly soft and exquisitely smooth, yet also feverishly hot, the muscles beneath as tight and firm as grenades. “I need you to open your eyes.”
Long lashes flipped up, revealing gold-and-emerald irises glassed over and dulled. A second later, big masculine hands wrapped around her neck and tossed her to her back. The mattress bounced, even with her slight weight. She offered no resistance as Kane rolled on top of her, pinning her in place. He was heavy, his grip so tight she couldn’t breathe in the rose scent she’d come to associate with him. An odd fragrance for a male, and one she didn’t understand.
“Who are you?” he snarled. “Where are we?”
He’s speaking directly to me. Me!
“Answer.”
She tried to reply, couldn’t.
He loosened his hold.
There. Better. Deep breath in. Out. “For starters, I’m your amazing and wonderful rescuer.” Since receiving compliments had died with her mother, she’d decided to give them to herself at every opportunity. “Release me, and we’ll work out the particulars.”
“Who,” he demanded, squeezing her tighter.
Black winked through her line of sight. Her lungs burned, desperate for air, but still she offered no resistance.
“Female.” The pressure eased again. “Answer. Now.”
“Caveman. Free. Now,” she retorted as she sucked in oxygen.
Could you watch your mouth, please? You don’t want to scare him away.
He jerked away from her to crouch at the end of the bed. His gaze remained on her, watching intently as she slowly sat up. A red flush colored his cheeks, and she wondered if he was embarrassed by his actions or simply struggling to hide the weakness still pumping through him.
“You have five seconds, female.”
“Or what, warrior? You’ll hurt me?”
“Yes.” Determined. Assured.
Silly man. Would it be totally gauche of her to ask him to sign her T-shirt? “Don’t you remember what you promised me?”
“I didn’t promise you anything,” he said, and though his tone was confident, his features darkened with confusion.
“You did. Think back to your last day in hell. It was you, me and a couple thousand of your worst enemies.”
His brows drew together, and his eyes glazed with remembrance, comprehension … then horror. He shook his head, as though desperate to dislodge the thoughts now swirling through his mind. “You weren’t serious. You couldn’t have been serious.”
“I was.”
He popped his jaw, an action of frustrated aggression. “What’s your name?”
“I think it’s better if you don’t know. That way, there’s no emotional attachment and you can more easily do what I require.”
“I never actually said I’d do it,” he gritted out. “And why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m … a giant box of chocolates.”
“I’ve heard of you,” she said, and left it at that. Truth, without explanation.
“Hardly. If you’d heard anything about me, you’d be running away in fear.”
Oh, really? “I know that during the many wars you’ve fought, your friends often left you behind, afraid you’d cause some kind of travesty for them. I know you often keep yourself shut away from the world, terrified of the same. And yet, still you’ve managed to slay thousands. Dare I say bazillions?”
He ran his tongue over perfect white teeth. “How do you know that?”
“Why don’t we call it … gossip.”
“Gossip isn’t always right,” he muttered. In seconds, he had swept his gaze through the small room and refocused on her.
She also happened to know that visual caress was a habit he’d developed through the years, one meant to take everything in. Entrances, exits, weapons that could be used against him—weapons he could use.
This time, all he would have seen was the peeling yellow wallpaper, the scarred nightstand with the chipped lamp. The sputtering air-conditioning unit. The brown shag carpet. The trash bin filled with bloody rags and emptied tubes of medicine she’d used on his abrasions.
“That day in hell,” he began. “You told me what you wanted, and then you made the mistake of assuming I agreed.”
That sounded like a refusal. But … he can’t refuse me. Not now. “You gurgled your assent. Afterward, I did my part. Now you will do yours.”
“No. I never asked for your help.” His voice lashed like the sharpest of whips, striking at her, leaving an undeniable sting. “Never wanted it.”
“You did, too! Your eyes begged me, and you can’t deny it. You couldn’t see your eyes, so you have no idea what they were doing.”
A protracted pause. Then, quite calmly, he said, “I think that’s the most illogical argument I’ve ever heard.”
“No, it’s the smartest, but your puny brain simply can’t compute it.”
“My eyes did not beg,” he said, “and that’s final.”
“They did, too,” she insisted. “And I did a terrible thing to get you out.” Sadly, sending the Phoenix a note of apology wouldn’t fix the problem.
As weak as Josephina had been in hell, she’d required help with Kane. Only, once she’d caught up to the Phoenix, still hacking her way to freedom, there’d been a slight problem. The girl had refused so vehemently—rot in hell, Fae whore—that Josephina had known there would be no hope of changing her mind. So, Josephina had used the ability she alone carried. A blessing in the right circumstances. A curse that had kept her locked in a world without physical contact. With only a touch, she’d stolen the strength right out of the Phoenix’s body, reducing the girl to a boneless heap.
Yes, Josephina had draped the warrior woman over one shoulder and carried her out of hell, the same as she’d done for Kane, fighting demons along the way—a miracle considering she’d never fought a day in her life—eventually finding a way outside, but that wouldn’t matter to the Phoenix. A crime had been committed, and a price had to be paid.
“I never asked you to do terrible things.” His voice contained the darkest of warnings.
One she did not heed. “Maybe not audibly, but even still, I nearly broke my back saving you.” She settled to her knees, shaking the mattress and nearly bouncing the weakened Kane to the floor. “You weigh, like, ten thousand pounds. But they’re glorious pounds,” she rushed to add. Stop insulting the man!
