Page 5 of Prince of the Undying

“Whenever you are well enough to travel.”

He swung his legs over the bed. Thank God he was wearing trousers and wasn’t naked. “We need to go back.”

“Back to the battlefield?”

“I lost something very valuable there.” Barefoot, he stood. “Excuse me.”

I blocked his way. “No.”

Taller than me by several inches, he stared down at me. His close proximity took all the air out of my lungs. I put my hand flat on his chest to stop him from leaving.

Touching him was a bad idea.

He kept his magic restrained; there wasn’t even a tingle of necromancy. But I was still riveted by the feeling of his skin against mine. His heartbeat thumped under the palm of my hand and betrayed his true reaction to this intimacy.

Fuck, intimacy? That was dangerous.

“You can’t stop me,” he said.

His words sounded like both a threat and a statement of fact. He seemed, at best, mildly amused by my attempt to stop him from leaving.

How arrogant of him.

I kept my hand on his chest and pretended touching him didn’t matter. “I didn’t hunt you down just to let you go.”

“You don’t even know who I am.”

“I’m beginning to find out.”

The hard muscles in his chest flexed as he bent closer to my ear. “What do you want from me?” he murmured.

3

His dark voice sounded like a sinful temptation. I clenched my thighs against desire that pounded with every heartbeat. My body had never reacted like this before, though I was hardly an innocent virgin.

I needed to stay in control of the situation.

“I want you to cooperate,” I said. “Come with me without fighting, and I will bring you to the Archmages of Vienna.”

“Yes, ma’am.” But he was smirking. “After we return to the battlefield.”

“Not like this.” I backed away from him, putting a safe distance between us. “Put some clothes on first.”

“Of course. Whatever you say.”

He sounded flippant, his eyes glinting, as if he enjoyed teasing me. I glared at him, but he wasn’t looking at me now.

You don’t even know who I am.

Who the hell was he? He had almost bled out on the battlefield, but he thought he could defeat me in combat. And he wanted to escape the Order of the Asphodel so badly he was willing to once again risk bleeding out.

Wendel dressed in a borrowed shirt and black long coat. He seemed steady enough on his feet, no longer in imminent danger of collapse. I watched him closely so he wouldn’t escape, never mind how damn intriguing he was.

I returned to my gray mare, while he chose a raven black one with a wild mane.

We rode together through the snow.

“Tell me more about the Order of the Asphodel,” I said.

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