Heartless (Immortal Enemies 1)

“I’m not your anything right now, Kaysar.” Good. She used a rational tone. “But I could be your partner, if you’ll give a little, working with me instead of against me.”

The reasonable request ticked him off. He peeled his lips from his straight, white teeth in a parody of a smile. “You’ll be pleased to know my price isn’t sex. That, you’ll give me for free. No, what I demand of you is a vow never to run from me. And Chantel? There is a steep penalty to pay if you break your word. Liars do not fare well in my presence.”

She gulped, a hard lump dropping into her stomach. And we’re back to lethal.

Did she need Kaysar’s help? Yes. Obviously. Maybe? She didn’t know anything anymore. But she wouldn’t lie or trick him into anything. Honesty mattered to Cookie, too. It was her thing, the line she refused to cross. How many times had her mother and father promised to take her to some event or another, getting her hopes up, only to bail?

She might suck at a lot of things, but she always kept her word.

“I’ll always be truthful with you, I promise.” The raindrops continued to fall, and she caught herself teetering closer to him. “That is why I won’t vow to never run from you. Never is too constrictive.” And had he really confessed his belief that she was a sure thing? “There should be exceptions.”

If he tested her vow, and she ran because she felt endangered, he would have the perfect excuse to harm her. Why set herself up for failure?

The look he gave her said, darling, please. “Unfortunately for you, I have no need to bargain. This is a Summerland shower, and it will last all night. You’ll do what I demand or you’ll freeze.”

Irritating man! He had no give. But spend all night in the rain? The droplets had begun to prick like needles. “Look. I always do what I say I’ll do. So, you either add some exceptions to your request, or I walk despite the danger. No,” she said when he opened up to protest. “Think about it. What if I need to run from you to save my life, for whatever reason?”

He did think about it, then nodded. “You make an excellent point. But there will be no exceptions.”

Argh! He was bluffing. He must be bluffing. But she wasn’t. When she’d told him she meant what she said, she’d meant what she’d freaking said. “Very well. I decline your offer. Thanks for the assist. Now, good day, sir.” She wrenched from his clasp and stepped around him.

Nope. Not around him. He moved with her, continuing as if she hadn’t spoken. “To pay for the supplies, you’ll give me an hour to show you why I demand you remain at my side.”

Finally! A concession. But was it a trap of some kind? His unholy glee said yes.

He looked beyond her and brightened further. “I’ll have a pair of shoes for you within minutes.” Then he vanished without giving her a chance to respond, leaving her in the chilling rain.

Okay. Message received. He preferred to discuss the vow thing later. Same. But, uh, where had he gone? Should she wait for his return? Or run while she had the chance?

A pair of boots versus her own agency?

Ugh. Maybe she could steal the shoes from him, then ditch? Could she ditch him without an opportunity like this? He wanted the woman he thought she was. He’d made that clear. She had leverage, but how much?

What other superpowers did the frightening centaur slayer wield?

Better question: What other superpowers do I wield?

Colder by the second, Cookie sprinted for an area shielded by a dense canopy of leaves. Along the way, her clothes gained a hundred pounds of water. Freezing mud splashed her bare feet. Her teeth-chattered with greater intensity and spread through the rest of her body.

When a continuous click of metal against metal rang out, she frowned. Kaysar’s doing? Was he crafting the shoes from swords?

Curiosity and misery got the better of her. She braved the storm, racing onto the field of slaughter, where the noise originated, her gaze scanning. There. Kaysar slammed a dagger into the lock that trapped the prisoners inside the cart. He’d removed his soaked shirt, his muscles bulging and flexing with his movements. Raindrops sluiced over his tattoos. Oh! The lines and dots created an intricate map she could stare at for days.

As he toiled, women dressed in threadbare rags mewled and begged for mercy.

Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy. He’d decided to aid the others before procuring those shoes.

“Quiet,” he snapped, “before I add your tongues to my collection.”

Well. He wasn’t a good guy, either. But a good deed was still a good deed, right?

Did he really have a collection of tongues?