I lift my gaze to meet those eyes and shrug. “You push them out like that, and any warm-blooded fae male is going to look.”
She groans. “You’re impossible.”
“Let me ask you something, sunshine. Did you enjoy the way it felt when the cuff shocked you?”
She purses her lips and glares at me. The question was mostly rhetorical anyway, so I continue, “That cuff”—I gesture to the steel band circling her wrist, a golden-brown Ratimir enchantment stone nestled beneath woven metal threads glowing in the center—“is spelled to this one.” I hold up my wrist, presenting the wider master cuff. “If you go more than twenty meters away from me, accident or not, it will shock you again. I have no control over it.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I hold up a finger, telling her to wait, and she shuts it. “Now imagine your horse gets spooked and shoots off into the woods. Do you really think you can stop her before your entire body seizes up, you lose your grip and tumble to the ground, most likely breaking your neck?”
Her jaw is working from side to side, like she’s gearing up to say something, but can’t figure out what that something should be. Her hands drop to her sides. “Fine,” she says like a petulant child. “But I’m not leaving Miss Horse behind, so—”
“I’m sorry. What did you call her?”
“Miss Horse,” she says slowly, as though I’m a moron.
“You couldn’t come up with something more creative than Miss Horse?”
“Hmm,” she says, tapping her lip. Then she gasps and grips her chest dramatically. “You’re absolutely right. How selfish of me not to take the time to come up with a suitably dashing name formy horse when I’mrunning for my life.” Her tone goes flat on the last words and she gives me a look that promises death and dismemberment if I don’t shut up.
I just shrug. “It’s not like you didn’t have time, riding in the saddle all day.”
“Well, I’m so sorry,” she says, throwing her hands in the air. “I guess it just wasn’t high enough on my list of priorities, what with trying not to die.” She stomps over to Balor, muttering something about ‘idiot men’ under her breath, and lifts her foot into the stirrup. I try to help her up, but she swats my hand away, and after a bit of unladylike grunting, manages to get her ass in the saddle.
“Thank you.” I secure her horse to Balor, then sweep up into the saddle behind her, grab the reins and kick us off. The horses’ hooves clomp along the road, sending up tiny puffs of dirt with each step. I start us off at a walk, giving Katya a chance to settle in before I set a faster pace, but she’s not having it. The girl’s stiffer than a virgin in a whorehouse. Her back is stick straight, and she’s leaning over the horse’s neck in an obvious attempt to keep as far away from me as possible.
“You don’t look very comfortable,” I say, purposely taunting her.
“I am just fine. Thank you very much.” Even as she says the words, she’s twisting her back, trying to get more comfortable. I could be an asshole and call her out on it, but I much prefer aggravating her.
“If you say so. You’ve got this strong, broad chest to lean against, seems a shame to waste it.”
She glances over her shoulder, her eyes narrow slits. “Do you think this is funny?”
“Exceedingly.” I give her a dashing smile, but that just angers her more.
Nostrils flaring, she says, “Well, I’m so happy you find my imminent death amusing. Once they hang me, I’ll be sure to come back so I can haunt you.”
“Nah, you’re too pretty to hang. I’m sure we can find some use for you somewhere. Maybe if you’re really sweet to me, I keep you on as part of my harem.”
She twists around to look at me, probably trying to gauge if I’m telling the truth or not. I try schooling my expression, but the corners of my lips are not cooperating.
“Youhave a harem?” she says, and I have to say, I’m a little insulted by the incredulity in her voice.
“I could have a harem,” I retort.
“Do you?”
“Well, everybody’s got to start somewhere. You could be my first.”
She turns back around with a huff.
“No one’s going to hang you,” I say, more seriously this time. “I promise.”
She gives me an over-the-top, toothy smile. “Oh, are they going to try to torture me again? Because that was a real hoot the first time.” The smile drops, and she turns back to the road.
“Nobody’s going to torture you either.”
“They already tried.”
