Thanks for the vote of confidence, she replied. And now, she was done communicating.

Time for action.

She tossed the phone on the desk. Trembling now, she climbed into the Cage of Compulsion. The Cloak of Invisibility, Paring Rod and painting were already inside, waiting for her. With Torin’s instructions rolling through her mind, she placed the Cloak over her head and peered at the painting. The canvas depicted an office like any other. Except for the box—Pandora’s box, made from the bones of the goddess of Oppression, able to enslave anything—resting on a bookshelf.

Cameo reached for the Rod, the final step, hoping, dreading. The moment she made contact, her entire world went black.

* * *

My honeymoon. Yay for me.

Gillian wrapped her arms around her middle as she huddled before a crackling fire. Heat radiated from the flames, but it did her no good. The realm’s frigid temperature had formed a wall behind her, turning her backside into an icicle.

As soon as William had left, Puck had taken her hand and led her out of the sand castle at a pace that had allowed her to finally see her surroundings—pretty, mystical and fantastical—and through a “portal” to this other realm. Ice hell. He’d done it despite her wish to return to her friends!

He didn’t want to live with William, which she now understood. But he didn’t need to live with her, either. Not that he’d listened. Not that he ever listened.

Even though she’d asked him to stay with her, he’d taken off an eternity ago to procure lunch, which had already come and gone.

Now the dinner hour was upon her and there was still no sign of him. Darkness reigned. Silence, too. The only noise was the crackle of the logs as they burned...and her thunderous heartbeat. At this point, she kind of hoped Puck didn’t return. Not until morning, at least.

This was their first night as man and wife. Would he change his mind and make a pass at her? Demand sex with her?

No, surely not. He knew her stance on the matter. Had said he respected her wishes.

Then again, he was a guy and guys tended to get stupid when they got hard.

Just...grin and bear it. She’d done it before. She could do it again.

Big hands roving over her small body...

She gagged.

I’m immortal now. I have to live with those memories forever.

I’m an idiot!

I’ve never even been on a date and now I’m married? Stupid idiot! She should have died while she’d had the chance.

A strange sound registered—the clomp of hooves? She stiffened. Next the scent of peat smoke and lavender drifted to her.

Puck had returned, after all.

He stepped into the firelight, his features as indifferent as always. And yet, he made her pulse quicken. There was something about him...

Their new connection, probably. And his inhuman beauty.

He looked as if he was wearing eyeliner. His lashes were long and black and curled at the ends, giving him soulful eyes despite his lack of expression. What would he look like if ever he cared about something? Anything? About...her?

“Lunch and dinner.” He dropped two dead rabbits in front of her. “Clean and cook them while I bathe.”

Excuse me? He’d been gone for hours, and that was all he had to say to her? “I’m not cleaning them.” Or eating them.

He frowned at her. “You aren’t hungry?”

“I’m starved, but—”

He cut her off, saying, “Then clean, cook and eat them. Problem solved.”

Was this how things were going to be between them? He gave orders and expected absolute compliance? “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I don’t want to touch a dead animal. I don’t want to eat an animal. I’m a vegetarian.”

He shrugged, completely apathetic. “You’ll do what I command. Nothing else is acceptable.” He walked away then, disappearing in the shadows.

Grimacing, she toed the animal carcasses out of her way, her stomach weeping even as her anger spiked. She was Puck’s greatest investment! He’d married her for a reason and that reason hadn’t changed. He needed her. So, he could freaking take care of her.

Should probably try to take care of...myself?

Definitely. And she would. Of course she would. Later. After he’d fed her a proper meal.

Oh, wow. She sounded every one of her eighteen years. How embarrassing—for her!

But she had passed hungry and now hangry, so what the hell.

She jumped to her feet and stalked after him, knowing he’d gone into the very cave he’d forbidden her from entering during his absence because “you never know what’s nesting inside.”

Drip, drip. The warm, damp air was fragrant with—she sniffed. Orchid oil? A dreamy scent she followed until she reached a bubbling hot spring. A whimper of longing escaped her. She could have stayed in here the entire time rather than freezing out there. Obviously, nothing was nesting.

Puck stood in the middle of the water that reached his waist, his back to her, his long hair plastered to his skin; through the strands she could see a crimson butterfly tattooed from the base of his neck to the curve of his ass. The gossamer wings looked as if they would actually lift and flutter.

And...she frowned. In many—many—places, Puck’s flesh was raised. With scars? A lump grew in her throat. Poor baby. What had happened to him? For scars to have formed on an immortal, the injuries had to have occurred during his childhood, before his body had developed the ability to regenerate, or had to have been so horrific, so fierce, even his ability to regenerate couldn’t heal him fully.

Poor baby? Who am I?

Stay strong. She stomped her foot, saying, “You are my...my husband. You will feed me. It’s your duty.”

Ugh. That was staying strong? Acting like a child?

Slowly he turned to face her. Droplets of water trickled down his cheeks, falling onto the wide bulk of his shoulders. “I may not care about much of anything, lass, but I live by certain rules. I have to.” Just then, he was an Egyptian prince with an Irish accent, and he was more confident, more commanding, than she’d ever been in her entire life. “My rules are the only reason I’ve survived my affliction—the only reason the people around me have survived.”

She licked her lips, his gaze following the motion of her tongue.

“The one you need to memorize?” he continued—did he sound a smidge less confident? “You will work or you will starve.”