Her gaze met his in the mirror across the room, and he frowned.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
I can hold it together. At least for a little while. Later, she would probably hide under her covers. “Don’t worry. I’ll walk behind you from now on. You won’t have to be seen with me.”
His fingers dug into her. “Sweetheart, I don’t like the way this material chafes your skin. It’s too pretty to be streaked with red.”
Oh. My.
KANE TIGHTENED HIS grip on Tink, and the trembling in his hands increased.
He wanted this woman. So bad.
He wished he were the man he used to be. He would have laughed and flirted with her, relaxing her. He would have charmed her, delighted her. She would have welcomed his attentions—would have even begged for them. Instead, he’d hurt her feelings in the worst way.
“Please, let me do this for you,” he said.
She turned and faced him, peering up at him with those electric blues he should have found as unappealing as all the others, but...hers were different.
He liked that they changed colors with her moods. Liked that right now they were laced with multiple shades of blue. A mix of light blue, dark blue and something in between, creating a sort of poetry, a kaleidoscope of loveliness no one would ever be able to re-create.
“It’s a wonderful gesture, and I am beyond grateful, but you can’t. I can’t wear anything but my uniform. If I do, everyone will have permission to tear the clothing off me—no matter where I am or who I’m with.”
And she would end up naked. As beautiful and naturally sensual as she was, the men around her would gawk, possibly reach out and touch her. Possibly even try to do more.
A bead of rage rolled through him, growing larger the deeper it reached.
He looked to Rhoda. “Make her a new uniform, just in softer, better quality material. And add pockets. Lots of pockets.” He wanted her armed and at the ready at all times. Prepared—as he hadn’t been. “Can you finish it within a couple hours? I want her to leave wearing it.”
“Of course, of course, that’s what I’m known for” was the reply. “I hate to bring this up to so distinguished a customer, but...how will you pay, my lord?”
“With this.” He withdrew the wad of cash he’d stuffed in his boot before beginning this journey.
Rhoda nodded. “Very good. I’ll take her back and—”
“No. She stays within my sight at all times.”
Tink flattened her gloved hands on his chest, and he responded instantly. His heart sped into a now familiar beat, and the increased flow of blood caused his body to ready for her. For all the things he wanted to do to her.
It was painful. Far more than before. It was pleasurable. Far more than he was willing to admit.
The need he felt for her...the edge of it sharpened daily, hourly, and if he wasn’t careful, it would soon cut through him, severing the ties of his good sense, his better intentions, and his concern for the complications.
Disaster roared with fury. Hate her! Leave her!
Kill you, Kane roared back.
Rolls of fabric tumbled from a table to the floor, the heavy spools hitting Kane’s feet with a surprisingly harsh thud.
“I’m so sorry,” Rhoda said, rushing to clean up the mess. “I’m not sure what happened.”
Adamant, Josephina shook her head. “I can’t disrobe in front of you.”
“Why not?” But he already knew the answer. They weren’t lovers. They weren’t even friends, not really. She would be vulnerable. He couldn’t promise not to look. Like the men he’d just disdained, he would look.
He should be ashamed. He’d picked up on a bit of palace gossip and knew her mother, who’d been considered a lowly human, had been the king’s mistress. He knew her mother had been taunted, and suspected she had even been shunned. Any hint of impropriety had to remind Tink of her mother’s anguish. Perhaps even make her feel she deserved the cruel words the two Opulens had uttered outside.
But she didn’t. That kind of thinking had to stop—now.
“I just can’t,” she insisted.
“You can. You will. Like I said, I don’t want you out of my sight, even for a second.”
“Kane...”
A pleading tone. One he might have heeded if she had been underneath him—have to get her underneath me. He gritted his teeth. “Keep arguing with me. I’ll find another way to change your mind. A far more intimate way.”
Her eyes widened. “You can’t.”
He leaned down until his lips hovered just over hers. “Try me. Please.”
Red infused her cheeks and she glanced back at the shop owner.
How could he have forgotten about Rhoda?
Straightening, he met the older woman’s shrewd stare. “Where she goes, I go, and that’s non-negotiable.”
A nod, and the woman turned away, saying, “Please, follow me.”
Kane peered down at Tink. “This is for your own good, I promise you. I can’t take the chance you’ll leave, and I won’t allow anyone to hurt you.”
“That’s great, wonderful, but this is going to ruin my reputation,” she muttered. “Worse than it already has.”
“I’m sorry for that.” But it had to be done. “I’ll think of something to fix it.”
“Before or after men start seeing me as more than a blood slave?”
A direct hit. Jealousy bloomed, hot and razor-sharp. “That happens, and men will start dying.”
“But—”
“Sweetheart, I need you to stop stalling.” He gave her a little push, forcing her to move forward. He trailed behind her. They entered a small room in back, where another girl bustled about, moving drapes of fabric out of the way, revealing a chair for Kane and a stepstool for Josephina.
A stepstool perched in front of a three-sided mirror.
He eased into the cushioned seat. A pin stuck him in the back, and he grimaced.
In record time, Tink was stripped to bra and panties, and he noticed both garments were woven from plain white cotton. Molding to her. Hiding the details of her femininity from him...begging him to seek. He was unable to cloak his reaction, every inch of him hardening. Her body was a work of art, slender, yet so beautifully curved. Bronzed to perfection, without any kind of tan line. Toned from the amount of work she was forced to do every day.
He gripped the edges of his chair to keep from reaching for her.
He could help himself. He could.
The seamstress attempted to remove Tink’s gloves, but she shook her head.
“They stay.”
Rhoda looked to him for confirmation.
He nodded. Maybe Tink could control her ability to absorb another person’s strength and abilities, maybe she couldn’t, but they wouldn’t be taking any chances until he found out.
Tonight, he would find out.
She would have to put her hands on him. On his skin.
The arms of the chair cracked.
Tink was measured and fitted with different fabrics to discover which one felt the best to her. Once the decision was made, the two seamstresses began the arduous process of cutting and sewing the dress.
Toward the end, Tink’s stomach began to growl.
“Hungry?” he asked, with a tinge of guilt. He should have fed her before bringing her here. Being classified as a servant, she probably wasn’t given proper meals.
Disaster chuckled with delight.
Never again, Kane thought.
“I’m starved,” she replied, still not daring to meet his gaze.
“I have food,” Rhoda said, and waved her assistant away.
The girl puttered from the room, returning several minutes later with a rolling cart piled with sandwiches, cookies and a pitcher of tea.
Tink appeared dazed. “For me? Really?”
How eager she sounded, when such treatment should have been an everyday occurrence for her.
Should, should, should. He was already sick of the word. From now on, he was going to take such good care of her.
“For you,” he said.
Holding the new, as yet unfinished dress to her chest with one hand, she reached out with the other and claimed a sandwich. He watched her as she ate, the way her eyes closed in surrender, the way a smile curled the corners of her lips, the way she chewed and savored.
So lovely. So sensual, even without meaning to be. So mine...
His skin prickled, and maybe he moved. Maybe he spoke. Her gaze lifted to meet his. Her lips parted on a startled exhalation. Could she see the rawness of his need?
“Kane.” A breathy entreaty.
In that moment, the cry of the demon ceased to matter. The past faded, leaving only the present...the future, and the unstoppable tide of the pleasure to come. Every bone vibrated. He needed to get inside her. Here. Now.
It would be agony.
It would be ecstasy.
Tension coiled low in his gut, only to spring apart and jolt him into a stand. “Leave us,” he said, his voice a broken rasp.
No questions. No protests. The two seamstresses flittered from the room, shutting the door behind them.
The teapot shattered on the tray, dark liquid spilling everywhere.
Tink didn’t seem to notice, was too busy watching him. “I-is something wrong?”
Silent, he stalked toward her. A predator with a purpose. He was done resisting. Done thinking about all the reasons why not. Today, he was taking something.
Perhaps sensing the dark, greedy urges driving him, she straightened with a snap. Her breathing quickened. “Kane,” she said.
“Tell me to stop.” He stood a mere heartbeat away, their gazes locked together, trapped. Nothing else would halt the madness.
“I...I can’t.”
He breathed her in. The scent of cleaning supplies had faded, and she smelled of rosemary and mint again, sweet and innocent. Perhaps she could finally wash away the taint inside him. Or burn it away with passion—he could feel the intense heat radiating off her body. Perhaps she could melt the ice that had taken residence inside him.
