Sometimes she had, sometimes she hadn’t. Sometimes he had, sometimes he hadn’t. But each time, no matter the outcome, his hatred for them both had grown.

He did not remember ever being with another woman—besides Odette—though he was sure he’d had many lovers throughout the years. Because, as Laila had writhed atop him, he’d instinctively known what would bring her pleasure. Gliding his thumb along the bundle of nerves between her legs. Laving his tongue there. Kneading her breasts, plucking at her nipples. All the things he had refused to do, and now wanted to do to Jane.

He wanted to watch her expressive face as she reached her peak. Wanted to feel her inner walls clutch at him. Wanted to hear her cry out his name. Sweet heavens, even the thought delighted him.

“Seriously. What are we listening for?” Jane asked. The warmth of her breath trekked down his spine. “I don’t hear anything.”

Taste…

Distracted again, Nicki? The stray thought jolted him back to full awareness. Someone had once said that to him; he knew it. A woman. He wanted to know who, but now was not the time to try and access his memories. He had to remain alert.

“Come,” he said, leading Jane deeper into that dark part of the forest. More laughter echoed. Evil, promising retribution. Once again, he stilled. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

More laughter, blending with yet another man’s. “That.”

“No. I hear the rush of water now, but that’s all.”

Damn it. The laughter must be another trick of Laila’s, meant to send him fleeing. Nicolai kicked back into gear. Five minutes passed, an eternity. He remained on guard, without a weapon—he should have grabbed a damned weapon—but willing to shield Jane with his body.

Another five minutes eked by. Then another. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on, but he felt like he should stop, so he did the opposite. He pushed onward. Another five minutes. Another.

“Wait. Nicolai. You have—”

Jane’s words cut off when Nicolai felt the cool rush of water against his feet, droplets splashing up his calf. Brows knitting in confusion, he paused and looked down. He hadn’t noticed the water, even though it had been directly in front of him.

The rocks were slippery as he backtracked to the edge. Dangerous, he thought. This place is dangerous. He should—

Stay. Finally.

“You did it,” Jane said. “You found the source.” She laughed, soft and carefree.

Without thought, Nicolai found himself whipping around to catch a glimpse of her. Her expression was lit up, brighter than the sun on its best morning. Her plump pink lips were curved at the corners, inviting him to lick, to finally taste. To devour. The hem of her robe was wet and plastered to her ankles.

She was safe. He could have her. Yes?

His chest constricted, and his stomach quivered. He reached out. A touch, until she healed, he’d allow himself only a touch. Except, his knees gave out just before contact and he fell into the water. His chin resting on his sternum, he breathed quickly and shallowly, trying to fill his lungs but failing.

His energy was draining, absolute fatigue taking its place.

“Oh, no, you don’t. Not there. You’ll drown.” Jane latched onto his arm and managed to drag him to the shore.

Once there, he just kind of fell the rest of the way, crashing into a mossy embankment. He tried to rise, but couldn’t find the strength. He needed to forage for food. Jane must be starving. He needed to build a shelter. The bugs would eat his woman alive. He needed to stand guard. She must not be hurt.

“Relax,” she said.

“Protect,” he murmured.

“Yes, I’ll protect you.” Gentle hands smoothed over his brow,

“No, I…” Oblivion claimed him before he could utter another word.

NICOLAI…

The deep male voice that called to him was familiar. Always in his dreams, when his defenses were weakened, but it was stronger now than ever before. And…beloved?

Nicolai…time…save…

In the back of his mind, he heard the tick, tick, tick of a clock.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

An image flashed in his mind. Not of the speaker, but of huge, grotesque monsters crawling toward him. Each had eight legs, with sharp, deadly points. They were black and hairy, their eyes big and beady, their tails pointed and curling toward him. They were staring him down, as if he were a tasty snack. Bile rose in his throat, but he pressed on, ignoring them.

“Where are you? What can I do?”

Nicolai…brother…heal yourself, and come. Time…save…

Brother? Nicolai tried to picture a brother. Nothing. He could not picture his mother, either. Nor his father. Even in his dreams, pain exploded through his head, shutting down his memories.

Tick, tick, tick.

Kill! an equally familiar male voice suddenly boomed. Deeper, harder.

Damn it. He had to find out who was speaking to him. Had to know. Had to, had to, had to. Life—and death—rested on his shoulders.

As he considered their identities, he thrashed, his hand connecting with something solid and warm.

He heard a gasp. For some reason, the female’s pain only increased his agitation. Must protect…

“Everything’s fine. You don’t have to worry,” she said, soothing him. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”

Jane, he thought, stilling. His Jane. Such a sweet voice, such a pretty face. Such a commanding personality, worthy of a queen. She was nearby.

Heal yourself…time…save…

Yes, he thought. With Jane nearby, he could do anything. Heal himself, and even replenish the store of power he’d burned through. He relaxed, willingly sinking back into oblivion. This time, he had a purpose.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JANE SPENT TWO DAYS gathering supplies and making weapons. She never strayed far from the unconscious Nicolai, just in case he needed her or they had unexpected visitors, so those supplies were limited. However, she managed to find fruits and nuts to eat, as well as small, thin twigs and mint leaves. Those, she’d turned into surprisingly efficient toothbrushes, which she used liberally on both of them.

Because they were near a stream, bathing her patient was easy. In fact, there’d probably never been two cleaner people trapped in the wilderness. Nicolai was no longer oiled, his skin was scrubbed to a healthy pink shine, and yet, the scent of sandalwood was stronger than ever. Every time she breathed him in, she tingled, her blood heating, her mouth watering.

It hadn’t helped that in bathing him, she’d had to run her hands all over him. As dirty as he’d been—cough, cough—she’d had to bathe him a lot. Those muscles…so hard, thickly roped and laced with sinew. That trail of hair from his navel to his penis…always tempting her to wickedness.

And God, she was shame spiraling.

Nicolai might desire her, but he didn’t need another woman lusting after him while he was helpless. What’s more, he didn’t need another grabby woman touching him without permission, and already Jane had pushed the boundaries of his trust by bathing him (so many times).

Hands off from now on, she decided. And one day, she’d apologize for her behavior. Maybe. She wasn’t sure she would sound sincere. Despite his past, she’d liked touching him. Bad Jane. But, well, he’d seemed to like being touched by her. He tossed and turned intermittently, only calming when she was within reach.

Sometimes he questioned a man who needed his help, sometimes he cursed Laila for the vile things she’d done to him, and sometimes he fought ugly monsters, his arms and legs flailing. After the latter two, he always vowed retribution. Painful, slow retribution.

Something he was fully capable of delivering now. The swelling in his wrists and ankles was gone, his thumbs having snapped back into place, his feet having realigned right before her eyes. Even the abrasions on his skin were gone. It was quite an amazing process to witness.

The vampires she had studied had healed quickly, as well, but not that quickly. Nor had they slept this long in a single stretch. She worried about him.

Did he need blood? He’d had so much at the palace, and overfeeding could cause as much damage as starvation. Perhaps more so, because overfeeding caused an insatiable need for more, more, more. Nothing else mattered ever again, and dead body after dead body was left in the wake.

She shouldn’t know that. She’d almost given herself and her knowledge away with the whole “bursting into flames” thing. And while she hated herself for having experimented on his brethren, she wished she’d done more, knew more. Anything to help Nicolai right now.

Jane sighed. She’d give him another day. And then what? she wondered.

She would have to construct some kind of hamper and drag him through the forest and into a town, find a healer and get him checked out. If there was a town other than Delfina nearby.

The problem—besides her lack of strength and direction—was her face. Her magical face. As Odette, she simply couldn’t lose herself in a crowd, as proven by the reaction of the people outside the palace. Word of her arrival might travel to Laila. Someone might attempt to capture Nicolai.

That someone would have to die by Jane’s hand, and she wasn’t quite ready to become a killer.

Another sigh slipped from her, this one weary. As a golden moon settled into a black velvet sky, she placed her handmade weapons—twigs sharpened on rocks until becoming daggers and spears—beside Nicolai. Then she lay next to him.

She’d washed her robe about an hour ago, the still-wet material now draped over a nearby tree limb. Except for her panties, she was naked. By necessity. Of course. So she wasn’t going to castigate herself over needing Nicolai’s warmth. Well, not too badly. The baths had been frivolous; spooning wasn’t.

Lying next to him provided a wealth of wondrous experiences. Peace, after so many months of fear and regret. Soul-deep contentment. Hope for a future she had once dreaded. He shouldn’t affect her this quickly and this strongly, even with magic.