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Cerberus held her stare and nodded. It was not his preference to mistreat the King's guests unless ordered to do so. “Cooperate, and you will not be harmed.”

Unlike other females, she did not drop her gaze in his presence. “Do I have your word?”

She was wise, hiding her powers beneath symptoms of poverty. Cerberus should have known then not to trust her. “You have my word.”

“What does he want from me?”

“Only your blood.” His gaze again dropped to the slope of her breasts and the swell of her hips. “For now.”

Her head cocked, and a tumble of radiant copper curls fell over her bare shoulder. She looked up at him with eyes as green and glistening as a dewy pasture. “Is he dying?”

“All mortals are dying.”

“Is it the plague? Why not offer himyourblood.”

“A female can comfort him in ways I cannot.”

“There is no curing him?”

“No, but your blood can sustain him and gift him with vitality.”

Her chest lifted, pressing her firm breasts against the worn material of her thin gown. A single tear rolled from her ruby lashes down her ivory cheek. “This is not my purpose in life.”

“Tears cannot change your fate now, princess.”

Her gaze snapped to his, sharp with censorship. “I am not a servant to this realm, and you know nothing about my fate.”

The fire in her stare caused his insides to burn with an unfamiliar heat. He could punish her for taking such a sharp tone, but something inexplicable held him back.

“The gods cannot save you now—princess,” he repeated the endearment simply to needle her.

“Is that it then? My purpose in this life is to remain in this tower, occasionally called upon by the king and used for my veins?”

Blood rushed to his cock. The desire to brush away that lonesome tear had his roughened fingers twitching, but he resisted the urge to touch her for fear of breaking her. Never before had he felt so compelled to protect a female.

“Obey your King, and there will be no pain.”

Her head lifted, her ruby curls cascading down her back. “And if I disobey, will you deliver the pain?”

She accurately understood his role, so there was no point in deceiving her. “Yes.”

The sharp angle of her elfin face lifted in challenge. “Neither you nor your King could conceive my threshold for pain.” She eyed him up and down dismissively. “I will not be in this tower forever. My destiny is elsewhere, and nothing you do can change that.”

“Perhaps. I’ll allow you to decide if your stay will be pleasant or unpleasant.”

Her green eyes narrowed. “You’ll never hurt me.”

How wrong she’d been.

The shower started,and the scent of ammonia cut through the air, quickly replaced by the floral bouquet of fragrant soaps. He shut his eyes, his anticipation slowly building. These fanciful moments satisfied him as he hoped they would, butthey eased the longing so he could focus on revenge.

“Tell me,walker, how does someone like you find themselves serving a weak, diseased mortal king?”Lilias’s throaty voice pleased him more than music ever could, and he enjoyed their discussions whenever he escorted her to and from the tower.

The cold hunk of muscle occupying his chest seemed to thaw in her presence and flutter out of rhythm. Only she could cause such a reaction, though he never dared to ask her why that was.

“I was gifted to His Majesty as a young boy.”

“But you chose to stay as a man.” She understood a Norse skull warrior could not be ordered or forced into obedience.