Slight distaste sharpened the edges of Kershov’s narrowed eyes as he watched mud grip the mystery femme’s silken sides. Dirt obscured her beauty like chaste drapes across a work of art; mire didn’t add the thrilling excitement that blood provided, and it certainly didn’t erase the need for imagination the way curve-hugging water could. It was just . . . dirty. Only when the fae called him ‘His Majesty’—by some glorious happenstance—did the ivory warrior’s irritation fade. Besides, that snarky little grin on her face was too adorable to ignore. How much of her cheeky self had been fooled by Kershov’s odd pretense—and how successful was she now at fooling him?

“I am proud of everything,” the alabaster gangster drawled in response to the maiden’s inquiry about his face. With a overly relaxed yawn, he placed his chin atop his huge forepaws, still curved over the rocky precipice. The easygoing laxness of Ker’s expression portrayed a complete disregard for the scathing condescension needling from the fire-queen’s maw—although in reality the Frost Pharaoh mentally turned over each phrase with cold precision, dissecting all the girl’s hidden meanings and coy tones the way a raptor might idly pick apart its food. So she wanted to treat him like a silly pup? So be it. Even puppies could bite. “And yes, I am. Extremely fortunate, as a matter of fact. I met you today, didn’t I?” The starving predator returned, all razor smile and deadly good looks, dangerous eyes of midnight black the coal soaking up the flames of her coat. “If this conversation alone doesn’t make me a lucky soul, I don’t know what does.”

She called him an eloquent speaker and Kershov relished the compliment, half-assed though it was. He found her fake smile absolutely fascinating; her willingness to speak for sport was far more attractive to the glacial gladiator than any outright lustful advance could ever be. He wanted to lock her in a cage and stare at her for hours. The entertainment would be endless.

Her wandering eyes—scorching pools—danced away from the dark intensity of Ker’s gaze and dove into the murky pool near her paws. Kershov perked his ears higher, tail rising up to curve like a question mark behind him.

His voice was gentle as he replied. Bone-chilling snow on fleeting warmth. “Yes you are.”

Because it was true. This entire conversation had proved it. This gorgeous creature was a liar—just like Kershov himself.

In a movement surprisingly graceful for a monster of his monstrous size, Kershov pulled himself from the water’s embrace to stalk onto the banks, on the opposite side where the lady sat. A running river and tier of rippling pools still separated the two, but at last they were on equal ground. The porcelain poltergeist mirrored the female’s position with a more masculine style, broad shoulders stiff and spine erect, just like the regal he truly was. “You’re a good liar, I’ll admit that much. Never for a moment believe that I actually know what you are lying about.” One forepaw reached out to stir the crystalline shallows before him; small waves escaped the soft wrath of his talons and fled toward the more peaceful banks where the wolfess reposed. “You should probably string together a few good stories right now, before I learn your secrets and decipher all the wondrous ploys you’ve thrown at me. Come now—while it’s still fun!” His grinning mouth wrinkled with vicious hints of a challenge. The paw he’d been caressing the water with now took his weight as Kershov unfolded himself into standing position and moved slowly into the shallows. “You may practice on me while you fabricate some good ones. Fair?”

For each line he spoke, the bleached serpent crept closer, water glimmering around his ankles with the lurid light of the dying sun. “My name is Kershov Fyodor. I came here to rinse my pelt from a recent battle, because I despise the reek of bloodshed. I’m a peacekeeper. I love torture. I live on my own in a land of snow and harsh winters. I am a King.” He stood now in the center of the river. An arctic calm stole over his body. “Am I a liar?”