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My prince: I’m going to skin your heart out.

My parasite: Romantic. Will you keep it afterward?

My face heats.

Absolutely the fuck not. I’m not about to blush because of a whore who’s probably texting the same shit to fifty other creatures. Nope. Not doing this.

My prince: Give it back.

My parasite: Mm. I’ll bring it back in exchange for something.

I actually make a sound of offense loud enough for Alexei to look up properly now. “Who are you talking to?” he asks.

My brain scrambles for a lie and lands on the first vaguely believable thing it finds. “Dimitri.”

Alexei stares at me in complete silence, so I add, “He’s being dramatic.”

That somehow makes the lie worse. Alexei’s expression doesn’t change, but I can feel the doubt coming off him. “Dimitri doesn’t make you look that angry.”

I glance at him. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

Annoying, perceptive bastard.

I lock the phone and shove it into my pocket. Then I look at Alexei and say, “Shouldn’t you get going?”

He glances at the men on the floor, then at me. “I was going to enjoy the performance a little more.”

“You’ve seen enough.”

He pushes off the wall slowly, unfolding to his full, unfair height. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I answer too quickly. “Obviously.”

His pale green eyes linger on me for one second longer than I like. Then he nods once. “Don’t stay too long.”

“I’ll try not to adopt any of them.”

One of the men makes a desperate sound at that.

I basically throw Alexei out with my eyes until I hear the warehouse door shut and, a little later, the distant sound of his car finally pulling away.

I turn back to the zip-tied bouquet on the floor.

“If any of you try to escape,” I say, smiling, “I will get a bit more creative. And I’m very artistic when I’m annoyed. So sit tight.”

Then I step out to reach for my phone again, and a hand closes over my mouth from behind. I don’t even get time to spin before I’m hauled back against a solid chest, one arm locking around my waist.

A voice hits my ear, distressingly familiar “I missed you, baby.”

My first instinct is violence.

At least some things in me are still reliable. I drive my heel backward into his ribs with as much force as I can manage from this angle. It lands hard enough to make most men lose their breath, but Kento just grunts.

I twist violently in his hold and wrench free enough to spin around, already glaring before my body has fully caught up.

“How are you even here?”