She nibbled his ear like a naughty pup, sharp fangs tracing its sensitive outer velvet, the gesture one of familiarity neither of them had properly earned. If anyone walked in on them now, they surely would jump to the conclusion—reasonably—that Frekari and Kershov were lovers. Each touch, each breathless whisper, the heat in their eyes . . . this was definitely not the sort of game Kershov usually indulged in playing, but damn if he weren’t enjoying himself. A clinical corner of his brain quietly laughed at his uncharacteristic flirtatiousness: since when do you enjoy acting like a horny teenager? Seduction nestled comfortably amidst the Ice King’s vast arsenal of weaponry, one of many tools to obtain his goals when the situation called for it. He would not consider himself above delving into the world of sensuality and sin, using his body as currency—or using the bodies of others, if they so chose to share themselves. However . . . he rarely resorted to carnal methods for most of his missions. Especially something like teasing out the secrets of a wolf that interested him. Kershov usually preferred to tease, torment, test . . . in far colder, more aggressive ways. Nothing like the half-playful, half-dangerous front he presented Kari with right now. So what about the maned wolf encouraged him to be so—so—

Filled with desire?

The colossal dragga turned into her touch, turning his cranium so that he might press his ruined face closer to hers. An answer swam lazily into his mind, mimicking the slow sexy swing of Frekari’s narrow hips: this was fun. Alluring the femme stood as useful as any other approach—but the snow dragon willingly ambled along for no other reason that he was honestly beginning to enjoy himself. Yes, he still aimed to discover as much about the kalak and her strengths—or lack thereof—as efficiently as possible; yes, he would teach the saucy tramp her place, as soon as he decided exactly where that place belonged. The vulpine creature hadn’t earned the closeness she currently savored with such reckless abandon. But when would Kershov show her that? How should he go about it? Could their game be so easily ended, with him standing victorious and Frekari bowing her head like a meek obedient good girl? Kershov would bet his tail that the russet woman was learning as much about his boundaries as he was about hers, discerning bit by bit just who her Alpha was. He could appreciate that. For now, then, might as well continue their game of smoke and velvet—it was obviously a court they both felt comfortable on.

“A reason to beg, hmm?” Another test. The frost-breathing phantom hadn’t had the chance to truly man-handle Frekari yet—she’d escaped his attempt back at Bright Moon—and he wondered how effective that tactic would prove. He thought the lady might like it. No . . . scratch that. Kari was practically begging for someone to have their way with her, she just believed the best way to achieve what she wanted was to pester with sarcasm until her target’s anger forced the issue. What if Kershov wasn’t angry? What if she met her needling bad-girl attitude with gentleness? Would it surprise her? Infuriate her? Especially after the abrupt way he’d ended their contact not a minute ago . . . “What if I said . . . please? I would so adore it if you asked me nicely, Madame Frekari. Please beg for me. Let me know how much you actually want to hear a secret.” His voice had slipped into a cool murmur, the sound of chilled water trickling down glass, and he nosed the side of her face where his tail had lashed with stunning gentleness.

“You think me a tyrant. I think that you want me to be a tyrant. But . . .” A sigh that rustled the scarlet fur quivering on the outline of her coat like a halo. “If you’re looking for a monster to rule you, search elsewhere.”