“Marked.” My face was on fire, my limbs shaking. “All of you. I will take all of you out with my own bare hands!”There was laughter building in Bram’s voice as he responded. “As cute as I’m sure that would be, your attempt…if we thought the people who might try to trace that chip could make you absolutely, one hundred percent safe, I would carry you to them and hand you over myself.”I gingerly rested my fingertips against my forehead, breathing deeply, trying to calm myself down.“There are some very bad men out to get you, Miss Dearly.”“You have got to be kidding me.”“By the way, you have quite the vocabulary, for a princess.” He still sounded amused.This statement was random enough to get my attention. “Princess?” I asked, confused.“You know, a princess. A New Victorian girl.”My lips parted to fire off another question before it clicked. “You’re a Punk.”“Born and bred.”“Fantastic.”

“I’m alright,” Loki assured me with a grin and stepped out into the hall, so we could have some privacy from onlookers. “What can I do for you, Princess?”“Can I cut off your head?” I asked.“Are you asking for my permission?” Loki tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. “Because I’m going to have to say no to this one request, Princess.”“No, I mean, can I?” I asked. “As in, am I capable of it? Would you die if I did?”“Of course I would die.” Loki put one hand against the wall and leaned on it. “I’m not a bloody cockroach. What’s all this about? What are you trying to find out?”

“You just couldn’t wait to get me naked, could you, Princess?” Loki asked tiredly. I started to pull my hand back, but he put his own hand over it, keeping it in place.“No, I—I was checking for wounds,” I stumbled. I wouldn’t meet his gaze.“I’m sure.” He moved his thumb, almost caressing my hand, until it hit my ring. “What’s that?” He tried to sit up to see it, so I lifted my hand, showing him the emerald-encrusted oval on my finger. “Is that a wedding ring?”“No, engagement.” I lowered my hand, resting it on the bed next to him. “I’m not married yet.”“I’m not too late, then.” He smiled and settled back in the bed.“Too late for what?” I asked.“To stop you, of course.” Still smiling, he closed his eyes.”

“Before I can respond, Nash continues. “Or was I there, too?” He brushes his lips over mine. “Did you think of my lips when he kissed you?” Light as a feather, he runs his hand down the outside of my thigh and back up again, squeezing my hip. “Did you wish it was me touching you? Like I did the night I came to your room?”I start to lean back and speak, but his lips take mine, quickly coaxing them apart. Sensation drowns out thought as I feel him breathe into my mouth. “Do you still want me? Because if you do, I’m all yours.”

“I'm going to teach you to ride Princess." "Princess?" "My motorcycle." I laugh. "You named your motorcycle Princess?" "What can I say?" he teases. "I call all my favorite things princess.”

“For a while I thought I was the dragon.I guess I can tell you that now. And, for a while, I thought I was the princess,cotton candy pink, sitting there in my room, in the tower of the castle, young and beautiful and in love and waiting for you withconfidence but the princess looks into her mirror and only sees the princess,while I’m out here, slogging through the mud, breathing fire, and getting stabbed to death. Okay, so I’m the dragon. Big deal. You still get to be the hero.You get magic gloves! A fish that talks! You get eyes like flashlights!”