Kane had just spoken eight words to her. Meaning, he’d just bought himself eight lashes of the whip. Josephina wanted him to suffer, but not that way.

“Go away,” she said, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, just in case.

“Give us some privacy,” he said to the guards.

“Anything for you, Lord Kane.” The pair raced to the other side of the hallway.

“You know you’re not allowed to talk to me,” she said. “No one is.”

“You want me to waste a few words telling you I do what I want, when I want? Because I will. I don’t mind.”

Thirty-two lashes. All for nothing!“Shut up, you stupid man.”

His lips twitched at the corners, the bout of amusement confusing her. She’d just insulted him, yet he was battling a laugh? I’ll never understand him.

“Your eyes are back to normal, at least,” she said.

He patted the skin underneath. “They are?”

Thirty-four. She nodded, hoping her silence would encourage his own.

That hazel gaze raked the length of her body, burning her everywhere it touched. Whatever he saw must have angered him, because he ran his tongue over his teeth. “The blood slave thing is the reason you want to die, isn’t it?”

She gave up trying to count his words, and simply replied. It was his back, his agonizing pain; if he wasn’t going to help himself, she wasn’t going to try and do it for him. “Yeah. So? Why do you care?” You’re an engaged man!

“I have no desire to see you hurt.”

And yet, in the past few hours, he’d managed to hurt her worse than all of her whippings combined. “Just leave me alone, all right? You’re not the rock star I thought you were.”

He flinched. “I’m sorry I disappointed you, but everything I’ve done since finding you in the forest, I’ve done for you.”

Pretty words, nothing more. He’d seen Synda and wanted her, just like every other man, and it had had nothing to do with Josephina.

They stared at each other, quiet. He towered over her, as intense and savage as a man could be, and she felt small in comparison...surrounded by his utter maleness. Trapped.

But what a beautiful cage.

Her limbs began to tremble. Her breathing quickened, and she noticed he smelled of the forest he’d found her in. Pine and dewdrops, clean and untainted by the cloying fragrances the Opulens preferred. There was no longer any hint of the roses she’d scented in the motel room.

While on the run, she’d done a little research. Apparently, when an immortal closed in on death, he began to smell like roses.

How close had Kane come?

And why did she long to reach out, to flatten her palms on his chest, to feel his warmth and his strength, to assure herself he was here and he was real and oh, sweet mercy, her blood was heating, and her lips tingling, as if preparing for his seduction. He wasn’t her friend or her boyfriend or even a suitor.

Tensing, he crossed his arms over his chest, clearly expecting her to...what?

“I don’t know what you want from me, Kane.”

“That makes two of us,” he replied darkly, anger firing up his eyes. Frustration tightened the skin underneath, and determination pulled at his lips. He stepped forward, and she stepped back, until the banister stopped any further retreat. “Do you know what youwant from me?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Your absence.” Before I crack.

“I don’t believe you. I think you want something...I think you want me. The way you look at me sometimes...”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head.

“I believe we’ve talked about that look.”

“I don’t want you,” she croaked.

“There’s a difference between not wanting a man, and not wanting to want a man. Which is it for you, Tinker Bell?”

She gulped. There was no way she would answer that.

Kane placed a hand at her left and a hand at her right, holding her captive. Tremors nearly rocked her off her feet.

“You make me feel... you make me feel,” he said quietly, fiercely, “and I don’t like it. I want it to stop. Now.”

For the first time in their acquaintance, he frightened her. There was an intensity to him she’d never noticed before, a vibe of uncontrolled danger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His gaze locked with hers, snaring her, drawing her in even while pushing her away. “Don’t you?” A thousand caresses in the dark waited in the softness of his voice.

“I...I...”

A second passed. Another and another. Neither of them moved. They didn’t speak. Just stared. Somehow, those suspended seconds were more intimate than anything else she’d ever experienced. More...electrically charged.

She flattened her hands on his rock-solid chest, marveled at the strength he contained. “S-stay back.” His heartbeat was a wild tumult, just like hers. It was a shock. A revelation.

A pleasure.

He stumbled away from her, breaking the connection, destroying the electrical charge.

It was what she’d wanted. But she hated being without it, she realized.

“What did you and the king discuss?” she asked, trying not to care—but caring anyway.

“You mean your father?”

Her shoulders lifted in the most casual shrug she could manage. “I am what he says I am.”

Kane reached out, as if to caress her cheek. His hand fisted just before contact, and fell away. “We drank some whiskey, smoked some cigars and discussed a few details for an engagement ball to be held in my honor. We played some chess. I won. He pouted.”

A ball. A ball Josephina would have to labor over. She would be forced to set up, then serve the guests food and drinks. The women would put their noses in the air and ignore her, and the men would forget their distaste for her, pat her on the bottom and maybe even try to pull her into shadowed corners. She would have to paste a grin on her face, and pretend all was well in her very dark world.

Meanwhile, Kane would be pampering the already pampered Princess Synda. The unfairness of it clogged her throat, making breathing difficult.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” she said stiffly. “Tiberius is the worst loser of all time.”

He waved her words away. “Let’s talk about your sister.”

Already he was obsessed. Jealousy hit her. Jealousy, and so much hurt she wasn’t sure how she was still standing. “What do you want to know?”

“She’s possessed, yes?”

“Yes. Her husband was the keeper of Irresponsibility and after he died—”

Kane’s lips pulled back from his teeth and a hissing sound left him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, annoyed by an overwhelming surge of concern for him.

“Her husband was possessed by...Irresponsibility, you said?”

“That’s right. For several centuries, he was a prisoner of Tartarus. He died while...you-knowing Synda, and somehow she ended up with the demon. That’s why our race has studied you and your friends so intently. Well, one of the reasons.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “This couldn’t get any worse. William tried to warn me, said I’d have to make choices, but I thought...hoped...and she’s blonde, just like the girl in the painting, and...well, it doesn’t matter. It’s happened. She is who she is. I’ll deal. I’ll figure things out. Somehow.”

Babbling she had no idea how to decipher. “What are you talking about?”

Again, he waved her words away. “You studied us, you said?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Us, meaning me and my friends?”

“Who else?”

“How?”

“Are you sure you want the truth?”

“I am.”

“Fae spies have followed you guys for centuries. They report back and books are published and sold all over the realm.”

“Spies,” he said flatly. “Books.”

“Pictures are drawn. Discussions take place. Fan clubs meet.”

Though his gaze remained on her, his head dropped, his chin nearly hitting his sternum. “Are you a member of a fan club?”

“Of course I am.”