Tree of New Beginnings? Forest of Good and Evil? No doubt she referred to her former mortal world. Key word: former. Meaning, the information mattered not at all. She had a new home now.
During their trek, she’d asked numerous questions about different landmarks, poisons and animals, using names he’d never heard of. She’d asked questions about everything—except Kaysar himself. The insult of it all. As her guide, her safety was his responsibility. Shouldn’t she wonder about him? At least a little?
He definitely wondered about her. Did a mortal husband or lover await her at her former home? How did she like to spend her days?
Irritated, he told her, “I suppose those who eat its fruit do receive a new beginning.” He shrugged. “Since they die seconds later.”
She grimaced, but cast the fruit a longing glance. “Is the death permanent or is there wiggle room?”
“Yes.” Hungry, was she? Good. He’d devised the correct strategy. Her needs would herald her capitulation.
Except, the instinct he’d combatted intermittently whispered once again. Feed. Satisfy. Protect.
The conundrum threatened to incite his rage. He gnashed his teeth, then gnashed harder when he noticed more of her hair had pinkened. The light shade lent an undeniable illusion of vulnerability to her delicate features. My own personal doll.
Still, he missed the rich sable locks. Were the strands as silky as they appeared? He almost reached out, when Eye’s warning echoed inside his head, stopping him. She is the skin she wears.
“What?” Chantel gave herself a self-conscious pat. “I have bugs in my hair, don’t I?”
Her irises. They’d changed, too. A golden starburst had exploded around her pupils, spilling deeper into her emerald irises. The effect was startling. Stunning. Mesmerizing. And oh, the scent of her. Her innate perfume had developed a spicier undertone. A powerful drug meant to lure unsuspecting males to their doom.
“Seriously,” she said, chewing on her bottom lip. “What is it?”
“You are—” He clenched his teeth until his jaw protested. Compliment her, while he orchestrated her misery? No.
Movement pulled his gaze to the left, where a two-headed snake unfurled from a tree limb, nearing Chantel. A bite wouldn’t kill her, only make her wish she’d died, accelerating her reliance on him.
Do not reach out. Do not.
Kaysar reached out, raking his claws through the reptile’s body. Both heads plopped onto her shoulder, then tumbled to the ground.
Fool. He’d wasted an opportunity.
“What the—” She peered at the bodiless heads and screamed, then darted behind him and grabbed fistfuls of his tunic. “Save me!”
She feared snakes to such a degree, she was willing to use him as a shield? He stood in shock. The last person to use him this way had been Viori.
The pang returned to his chest, and the sensation was not unpleasant. Rather than resist it, he leaned into it just as he leaned his body into hers, winding an arm around her. “No one will save you better,” he told her. The vow sprang from the depths of his soul, unstoppable.
“Oh, um...I misspoke. I don’t need saving.” She scrambled away from him, her cheeks flushed a deep red.
Too prideful?
Her hair had grown, and she tripped over the ends. “Argh!” She lifted her fists high and shouted indecipherable words. “I hate this world.”
She could not have been more adorable.
Adorable? He frowned as he approached her, saying, “Allow me.”
She froze as he gently collected her hair and twisted the mass in his grip. The red returned to her cheeks and spread into a rosy flush as he unsheathed a blade with his free hand. Her incredible eyes rounded, and her breathing quickened, but she didn’t fight him.
He sawed through the pink mass, careful not to apply pressure or pull.
“Oh, thank you,” she moaned as the shorter hanks fell into place. She rolled her head over her shoulders. Longer locks framed her face, reaching her collar, while other strands stacked over her nape.
The uneven style amplified her delicacy, which amplified his pang. He cleared his throat, keen to look away from her or stare forever, he wasn’t sure. Either way, the beauty refused to release his gaze, peering into parts of him he’d never wanted another to see.
A flush burned his cheeks. When he unearthed the strength to tear his attention from her, he plunged forward, resuming their trek.
“Come,” he called.
She caught up with him, huffing as she stayed close to his heels. “And I thought I was bad at peopling. You have to be the worst peopler in history.”
Whatever that meant. He still held her wealth of hair, he realized. That might be...disturbing? He should release it.
But he didn’t want to release it.
Disgusted with himself, Kaysar pried his fingers from the curls one by one, letting the silken mass slip away. At the last second, he snagged a sable lock and stuffed it in his pocket.
On they marched. Chantel chattered away, asking more questions about foliage. Still no queries about him. “Shall I tell you the entire history between mortals and fae?” he sniped.