The speakers sat atop a makeshift dais; in the middle of a speech, they went quiet. Clothes rustled, and chairs skidded, every set of eyes sliding his way. Gasps resounded. What a fearsome sight they must make, the amazingly fierce warlord and his mediocre assistants.
In one hand, William held an ordinary knife. In the other, a special dagger with a curved blade and the barrel of a gun fused against it.
“M-may we help you?” one of the speakers asked. William had met her last night. Her name was Cash, and before his encounter with Sunny, she’d been number one on his list.
“Someone can help, yes,” he said. “The rest of you are collateral damage. For now, anyway. Do what I say, when I say, and you’ll walk away...at some point. Or roll the dice and disobey me. See what happens.” Sunny, Sunny, where was Sunny? He dragged his gaze over the sea of faces... There she was, the prize at the bottom of his cereal box.
His heart pumped harder as their eyes met. Surprise, surprise. Lust punched him, his breath heaving. Every muscle in his body tense, his blood heating to a boil. The woman looked good enough to eat.
Go ahead. Take a bite. Earn a jaw-cracking yawn in response.
No! Unacceptable. He was a god among men. He could make anyone come, at any time, even the seemingly arousal-less Sunny Lane. And he would—
Not. He absolutely would not touch her again. That primal urge to protect her had just resurged, only stronger. A major inconvenience requiring eradication, not encouragement.
But, he couldn’t force his gaze away from her. Today, a faint but noticeable sheen of glitter illuminated her skin. Anyone else would assume it came from a bottle. Not William. He knew better now. Unicorn-shifters glittered with strong emotion. A type of camouflage. Who would suspect a walking glitter bomb of being one of the most powerful and devious species in any world?
A thick azure braid hung over one delicate shoulder. A braid that hung over her breast, and the pink handmade cashmere sweater molded there. Sloppy threadwork provided a glimpse of the plain tank top beneath.
She’d knitted the garment herself, hadn’t she?
Damn it! He refused—utterly refused!—to desire a granny panty–wearing knitter who dabbled in murder. And yet, I would give anything to rip away that sweater, drag those panties off with my teeth and feast on the curves underneath.
Her only makeup? A smear of gloss over her cupid’s-bow lips. Lips he wanted wrapped around his cock. What? Truth was truth. He craved raw, filthy sex. The kind he hadn’t gotten to have last night, thanks to a bullet to the face.
He waited for a fresh dose of fury...
Still waiting...
Mostly he felt excruciating awareness of the one woman he shouldn’t want and couldn’t let himself have.
“You truly survived,” she gasped out.
“Disappointed, duna?”
“Yes!” Color drained from her cheeks as she jumped to her feet. “You survived. You survived and you’re breathing,” she babbled. “You’re alive.”
The action bounced her breasts, which accelerated his breathing. He scoured a hand over his mouth, then looked the rest of her over. A mistake. Had she grown curvier overnight? Skinny jeans hugged her toned legs and dog-shaped house slippers adorned her feet. Sexy and adorable.
Voice filled with mocking indulgence, he asked, “Dressing for the job you want? Good news. You’re hired! I’m certain you’ll make a wonderful house pet.”
“House pet? Please!” She wagged a finger in his direction. “You’re here to pick up where we left off, and we both know it.”
“So what if I am? We both know your granny panties are already soaked.” Know...dream. Semantics.
Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Accept the fact that your match doesn’t light my wick, and move on before I put another bullet in your face.”
“Oh, my match will light your wick, all right.” It will? “I’m not a quitter. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be begging me for more.” He hurled the words like daggers, his decision to remain hands-off in shreds.
Two weeks. They had two weeks together. Like Keeley had said, he wouldn’t be falling for his lifemate in such a limited time. Therefore, he could afford to indulge her sexually, as long as he rid himself of the urge to protect her. And he should indulge her, he realized now. He should treat her like every other woman he’d ever desired: seduced and forgotten.
Sex meant nothing. An itch to be scratched.
As for sleeping with a female he planned to kill...he would not feel guilty, since she had tried to kill him. But. He would admit the truth before he ever touched her. That way, the ultimate decision—to welcome him into her bed despite his plans—would be hers.
She’ll say yes. No one resists for long.
“There’s only one thing I’ll beg for, and that’s your absence!” she bellowed.
Or not.
How nice of her shrewy side to come out to play again. “Shall I prove to you, to everyone, I’ve already lit your wick, duna?” Had he? Could he do it again?
More color drained from her cheeks, leaving her pale and waxen, a sight those primal instincts found disturbing. She opened her mouth, closed it. Opened, closed. Only choking sounds emerged.
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
“Go ahead,” Sunny said, calling his bluff. “Try. I could use a good laugh.”
As Pandora climbed the dais to stand behind the speakers, she smashed her hands over her mouth, smothering a grin. Green hung back to guard the door, a pillar of muscle; he let his grin loose.
How had William forgotten his audience? The codebreakers had begun to freak out, muttering among themselves, eyeing the doors.
He called, “Attention, ladies and genitalmen. I’m abducting everyone in this room. If you resist...don’t resist.”
Protests sounded, one after the other. A man stood and ran for the door.
Staring at his unicorn once more, William lifted the dagger-gun and aimed at the male. A tap of the trigger. A bit of a recoil. A slight pop. The observers whimpered. The victim grunted; with a brand-new hole between his eyes—this season’s top fashion accessory—he dropped.
A savage action on William’s part, yes. Merciless. Heinous. Yes, those, too. All necessary.
Someone screamed. Several someon
es, actually, everyone but Sunny peering at him with horror. She regarded the dead body with satisfaction. Another shock.
Though he’d seen everything the world had to offer, good and bad, she continued to surprise him.
“Quiet,” he shouted, and the screaming ceased. Excellent. “I have a book written in code. One of you will break the code, or all of you will die.” The only way to truly pinpoint his lifemate? The book.
An-n-nd the screams were replaced by whimpers.
Why had he planned to kill his codebreaker? What if she managed to break the curse within the two-week time frame? His great problem would be solved, and he’d have no reason to kill her. He could then have the unicorn as much or as little as he desired, thereby ridding himself of this attraction.
Yes! Want her so bad my balls ache. Need her.
No! I need no one. But the want...
Oh, the wicked things I’ll do to her.
Excitement lashed his control, until anger usurped the excitement. Manage your expectations. She might fail.
He figured they had fifty-fifty odds. Hope for the best, plan for the worst.
“In the meantime,” he continued, “you’ll be my prisoners. The rules are simple. Try to escape, and you’ll be punished. Resist my demands, and I’ll do to your loved ones what I did to your friend. Cause harm to another prisoner, and I’ll cause even worse harm to you. I’ll cross any line to get my way. Understand?”
A chorus of protests, sobs and shrieks assailed his ears, every face evincing extreme terror—Sunny remained the exception. His luscious unicorn displayed more of that fury.
Am I about to receive another visit from Killer Unicorn Barbie?
From the corner of his eye, he noticed one of the speakers slipping to the floor and attempting to crawl to the back door. Pandora noticed, too, and performed a badass tackle, knocking the woman out with a single punch.
Fear turned humans into idiots. William spread his arms, the last sane man in the universe. “Anyone else want to ignore my warning? No? Excellent.” Now, to open a portal. A process as easy as breathing, thanks to the runes Hades had branded into his flesh—swirling golden designs set in a Fibonacci sequence, as subtly raised as scars. Those runes turned his body into a mystical conduit.