She sighed. "I used to think that way."
"What way?"
"That we can only be as we've always been. Maybe in time your mind-set might expand."
"And if I'm satisfied with how I am?"
"Then you'll never grow."
He drank, masking his reaction to her. Talking to her like this made his heart speed up. Being with her made the years fade away, until he felt . . . young.
But young meant trusting, which he would never be again. "You're one to speak of growing," he bit out. "You were the most intolerant female I've ever met."
"How old was Karinna when she died?"
"Twenty-four. Your age," he said, only to frown. Yet you plan to send her away, outside of your reach? That would also mean outside of his protection. At the thought of losing her, his wings tensed. He yearned to have his mate safeguarded within them.
"How do you know she wouldn't have changed in her thirties? Her forties? Her hundreds? Karinna died before she ever had the chance to grow."
His mind began to race. Could a young female like Calliope be shaped into the queen he wanted and deserved? Perhaps she'd been returned to him for just that purpose!
What if he could teach this adaptable fey? Bend her to his will? He swallowed. A future might still be possible. "On the surface you seem different in this life. Though this could be an act." How could he shape what he couldn't even get his arms around? "For all I know, you've remembered the past and are deceiving me right now. You were an exceedingly skilled liar."
Temper erupting, Calliope shoved back from the table and shot to her feet. "I'm not that fucking princess!" Her eyes blazed teal.
He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off: "Even if I share a soul with her, I'm not her. I don't remember that life, don't want to. And I'm sick of taking the blame for others' actions."
"Why should I believe anything you say?" He wished she could pass some test to allay his suspicions. At that moment, he realized Uthyr was right. Sian did have a stranglehold on a lifeline of hate. For all these ages, it'd kept him sane.
So what will happen if I release my hold?
She strode to the hearth. As she paced in front of the fire, flames reflected off her golden gown. "I'm sorry you and others were hurt by Princess Karinna. But that's your past, not mine. I don't claim it. My name is Calliope. Lila to my friends."
"Lila." He liked the way her pet name felt on his tongue.
As if she hadn't heard him, she said, "Since I haven't done anything, you don't have the right to hold me here against my will."
"Might makes right," he said, because he had no credible counter to her words.
"Might won't keep me imprisoned--because wits always win."
He stood, staring her down. "Calliope, understand me: you will never escape this realm."
She boldly held his gaze. "Abyssian, understand me: I will escape you, and when I do, I will leave rubble in my wake!" As she spoke, the fire flared behind her, twin spires above her head that resembled horns.
His breath left him. She looked like a queen.
A queen of hell.
TWENTY-THREE
Casting off blame felt amazing! Like a catharsis. So why was Abyssian staring at Lila as if he'd seen a ghost?
Dinner with him had been enlightening. Once she'd gotten used to his brusque tone, his crass crowing about his harem, and his whiplash moods, she'd been able to detect more of those tiny hints of vulnerability.
And more of his loneliness.
Abyssian had traveled to Sylvan at only sixteen, returning with all his dreams extinguished. Even after everything he'd done to her, she pitied the boy he'd been.
Suddenly his vivid green irises turned black. He advanced on her, forcing her to back up against the wall. He reached for her, covering her nape with his palm.
Stunned, she craned her head up.
He was gazing at her with a wild yearning, his stern brow furrowed. His features were harsh, even brutal, but she found his face starkly magnetic. Despite his fierce expression, he cupped her neck gently.
He grazed his knuckles over her cheekbone, treating her like she was the most delicate thing he'd ever touched. "I feel torn apart, Calliope, as if two souls war within me. Part of me believes it possible to forgive you. Part of me wants to hate you for another eternity." A quake somewhere deep in the ground punctuated his statement.
This warrior king's unexpectedly tender touch made her breaths shallow. Something about him called to her, drawing her in.
"You're trembling."
"Because every time you get this close to me, those claws of yours sink into my skin." Which was only partly true.
"I won't hurt you again." He sounded so different when he wasn't yelling or sneering. With his Demonish accent and deep pitch, his voice was . . . sexy.
Really sexy.
He leaned down and nuzzled her ear.
She shivered against him, biting back a moan at the surge of pleasure.
He nuzzled her other one. "Your pretty little ears drive me mad. I imagine licking them, nipping them, murmuring wicked words just to make them twitch." He moved to the tip . . . he flicked her pointed ear with his pointed tongue.
This time she couldn't stop her moan.
He gripped her sides with his big hands, his thumbs stretching around just under her breasts.
She was panting. Could he feel her racing heartbeat?
"Your eyes are bright teal." He rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. "My kingdom for a kiss, Lila."
Sexy demon! "I don't . . . I can't lose control with you."
"I'll take care of you. I'll bring you the release you crave." He stroked his thumbs upward, grazing her nipples. "The pleasure you need."
Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. "Oh, gods. . . ."
He groaned. "Want my mouth on your stiff nipples." He grazed his thumbs again, then rested them over the hard peaks. The pads of his thumbs lightly kneaded.
She was levitating! She tried to speak but only managed a breathy cry.
"Does my little fey like that?" he asked, his eyes promising wicked things.
Likes? No, loves! She nodded eagerly.
"We can go slow, beautiful."
She hadn't thought he had this much control over his inconceivable strength, but he was gentle.
Her brows drew together. Which meant he'd simply chosen not to be gentle before.
That thought broke whatever spell she'd been under. This was the Morior who'd tormented her, the one who'd probably bedded a dozen demonesses today.
The male who wanted her to join their number.
Gaze locked on her mouth, he leaned down. In Demonish, he said, "Wanted your kiss for so long."
He didn't deserve her kiss. Just before their lips met, she slapped him--hard. Pain flared in her wrist. "Ow! Godsdamn it, that hurt!"
He released her, his eyes returning to green, as if he were just waking up. His brows drew together, his expression somehow both unsurprised and confused. "I . . . the ring will heal that."
Ugh! "Get this through your blockhead: whenever I'm injured--from your claws or your bruising grip or from warding off your unwanted advances--it still hurts."
A muscle ticked in his prominent jaw as he clearly struggled for control of himself. He grasped her elbow, then teleported her back to that cursed tower.
Over dinner, she'd been able to pretend she was merely a guest of the king. Back in her prison, she felt like a shafted Cinderella after the ball.
She yanked her arm away, and he released her. "So that's how it works between us? When I don't succumb to your seduction, you return me here as punishment?"
He drew his head back. "That's not what I intended."
"You dress me up, let me out, then put me away again? I'm not some doll that you can bring out to play with whenever you feel like it."
He scrubbed a palm over his face, as if he hadn't expected this anger.
Which just made her madder! "Tonight y
ou've shown me that you can be gentle with me--which means you've decided not to be over these last few days." Her wrist throbbed. "Which makes you an even bigger prick than I'd first thought!"
He scowled at his hands. At his claws? Facing her, he said, "Calliope, the way I've been recently is not how I usually am. You might adapt well, but I do not."
"What does that mean?"
He parted his lips to speak, then closed them. Another try: "My existence has been the same for ten millennia. Now my life is in flux. Having such limited experience with change, perhaps I haven't reacted well to it."
"Reacted well? Is that how we're describing your behavior?" The nerve of this asshole! "And to believe I'd started to pity you for being so lonely."
TWENTY-FOUR
Pity me?" Sian had once been one of the most perfect male specimens in all the worlds!
Desired. Pursued. Coveted.
His ego took yet another blow. He felt it all the more because she was right. He was lonely. But he hadn't been before her return--because he'd drifted through his life like a sleepwalker.
Now she was awakening things in him best left dead.
That stubborn pride of his made him lie: "I'm hardly lonely. My concubines cater to my every filthy desire."
"Then you can take them from the cupboard."