This is my reimagining of Tempt the Stars chapter 17, mashed up with chapters 28 & 32…what might have happened if Cassie and Pritkin had been alone in the room with that big bed, no vampire or mage chaperones and no demons chasing them.

The characters, and much of this text, are © Karen Chance. I've taken some liberties with both.

"Pritkin!" I yelled, and the irate blond did a double take from his position down the hall. A scowl to beat all scowls spread over his face and took up residence there. He stared at me, and he looked pissed.

Only no, that didn't really cover it.

He looked like I'd felt when I woke up on that damp, burning hillside, only to find that he'd just given up the independence he'd worked so hard for, had suffered so much for, in trade for my life. When I realized that he'd just destroyed his future to save mine even though I hadn't asked, and would never have asked, him to. The same impotent, all-consuming, helpless fury was on his face that had been on mine that night and I was suddenly, viciously glad of it.

We went through a door and I slammed it. Which was stupid, because it wasn't like everybody didn't know where we'd gone, and I didn't think a flimsy piece of wood was going to hold them off for long. But it felt good to slam it, so good that I almost opened it and did it again.

I settled for glaring at Pritkin as he glared back, and dared him to say it. Dared him to tell me off for doing the exact same thing he'd done for me. Dared him to say anything.

I stared at Pritkin. He looked different. The hair was longer, to the point it could actually be styled like a normal person's. He was shaved and his skin looked soft, with a slight shimmer to it like the people's downstairs. He was wearing some flowy, desert sheik caftan thing in a dark green that highlighted the breadth of his shoulders and brought out his eyes.

He looked terrible.

Pritkin's idea of a beauty regimen involved soap and deodorant; I'd never even smelled cologne on him before. But I was smelling it now, something wild and seductive and – and wrong. Pritkin smelled like sweat. He smelled like burnt gunpowder. He smelled like nasty potion ingredients and too-strong coffee and those little licorice candies he snuck around to eat because he didn't want to set a bad example for my sweet tooth.

Only not now.

Now he smelled like this place.

Now he smelled like nothing.

"I knew it was you," Pritkin told me, quietly furious. "As soon as I heard the bells, I knew –"

I slapped him. Hard. It came out of nowhere, to the point that I didn't even realize I was going to do it until his head snapped back, until he was glaring at me over the imprint of my palm on his left cheek.

"How's it feel?" I asked, voice low and shaking. And I wasn't talking about the slap.

"You –" Pritkin cut off and clamped his lips tight, as if he was afraid if he started he wouldn't know where to stop. Which was fine by me. My adrenaline was pumping, my pulse was pounding, and anything he could throw – just any damned thing –

Except that, I thought, as I was dragged against a hard chest.

We clung to each other in silence, until finally Pritkin broke it. "You shouldn't have come."

"You shouldn't have left!"

"I didn't have a choice!"

"Neither did I!"

"Damn it, Cassie! I thought you had more sense!"

I lost it. I grabbed the front of Pritkin's gold-embroidered caftan – and since when did he wear a goddamned caftan? – and dragged him down to me. "I am going to say this one time. You are my servant. Sworn to my service until death. I never released you from that obligation. And if I want to come after you, I'll damned well come after you!"

Something shifted behind his eyes, something dangerous. "And I'll shut up and like it."

"Right now I don't give a damn whether you like it or not. But I'm not leaving without you."

"You're better off if I don't come with you."

"How can you say that? How can you just give up?"

"I'm not giving up. I'm accepting reality."

"What reality? You don't want to stay here! And I need you –"

"You don't, as you've made clear these past few days. If you can break into my father's court, fight off the council's own guards, force a meeting…" He ran a hand through his hair. "You'll be all right, Cassie."

"No! I won't be! I need you –"

"Why? What can I give you that others can't?"

"What?"

Green eyes suddenly burned into mine. "It's a simple question. You said you need me. Why?"

"I – I told you. This job –"

"Which you're handling admirably."

"I am not! I couldn't even get to my parents without help!"

"There are other demon experts – Jonas for one."

"But I need you!"

And all of a sudden, Pritkin was backing me up, slowly, relentlessly.

"Then give me a reason."

"I…there's so many –"

"Name one."

"I can name a hundred –"

"I didn't ask for a hundred; I asked for one. And you can't give it to me."

"Yes, I can!"

"Then do it!"

"I…" I stared at him, because he looked like there was a lot riding on my answer. Maybe everything. And I didn't know what he wanted to hear, because I'd told him the truth. There were literally so many things that I didn't know where to start. How could he not see all the ways he'd changed my life? How could he not know –

But he didn't. It was in the way he turned his head away, when I just stood there. In the way he closed his eyes. In the small, self-mocking smile that played around his lips that I didn't understand but knew couldn't be good.

I had to say something, and it had to be the right thing, and I didn't know –

Pritkin's eyes opened, but I couldn't read his expression. For once, the face that was usually flowing with a thousand emotions was…blank. Resigned. He was already distancing himself, already leaving me in every way that mattered.

And I didn't know what to do about it.

"You're right," I told him desperately. "I can get others to do what you do. They won't be as good, but…okay. It could work. But it doesn't matter to me because no matter how good they are, they can't replace you. They can't because I don't need you only for what you can do. I need you…for you."

I'd learned that the hard way, all week. I hadn't realized how much I'd relied on his scowls or his shrugs or his grudging looks of approval to help me figure something out – until they weren't there anymore. Or how I could talk to some people about a lot of things, but only to him about everything.

And how unbelievably valuable that was.

I stared into his eyes, wondering how to get through. I sucked at emotional stuff; I always had. It was easier to make a joke or some stupid quip than to try to put into words emotions I was never supposed to have. Emotions that were dangerous to have, because they left you vulnerable and I'd learned early that vulnerability was a very bad thing.

When I'd heard that my governess had been murdered by Tony, I hadn't cried. It had felt like someone had twisted a knife in my gut, but I still hadn't, because I knew she'd hate it. Knew she'd view it as a weakness. "Tears are useless," she'd told me a hundred times. "Don't cry; act!"

And I'd tried. I'd tried. Because mostly I agreed with her. But now I didn't know what actions would help, and I didn't have the words.

I didn't have anything.

"You called me admirable," I told him miserably. "But I'm not. I mess up all the time, and not all of them are things I know how to fix. The Pythia is supposed to have all this power, but there's plenty I can't fix! And some days, most days lately, I just feel like…like I'm going to explode. And there's nobody around to tell me I'm being stupid or to bring me terrible coffee or to make me run a marathon until I'm too tired to worry about it anymore. Or just to listen –"

I met Pritkin's eyes. "You're meant for better things. But you asked. And I don't know how to say it right; I don't know what you want. I just know I need you, I need you, I can't do this without you –" I was crying now, as I hadn't for Eugenie, as I hadn't for myself. But I couldn't help it because I was screwing this up, I was getting this all wrong, and he was going to leave –

All I could see was his face. All I could think was that this might be the last time I ever saw it.

And that was enough to do what an army of demons hadn't, and send me into a full-blown panic. "You can't stay here! You can't!"

Hard hands tightened over mine. "Cassie –"

"Just try. You just have to try."

"It isn't that simple. Even if –" He stopped.

"Even if what?"

"Cassie, the council…it isn't like a human court, with rules and procedures and some semblance of justice. They are arbitrary and capricious at best, and at worst…they're the definition of chaos."

I blinked at him. Because I'd heard that word before. "Mother said chaos is like jumping off a cliff, not knowing what's at the bottom," I told him. "But she didn't seem to think that was so bad. I didn't understand what she meant then, but I think…maybe I do now. Sometimes there are no guarantees. Sometimes, if you want something badly enough, you just have to jump."

Pritkin still didn't move, but something shifted in his face as he looked at me. "When I met you, you preferred running, liked hiding. You told me several times it was what you were best at."

"Yes, but it made sense then, when all I had to worry about was Tony. But it won't help us now."

"You look furious," Pritkin said, watching me.

"I just – I can't understand not fighting for your life – for what you want. Just giving up –"

A corner of his mouth quirked. "No. You would not understand that. You never stop trying, do you?"

"What else is there?"

"Despair. Hopelessness. Anger. Depression."

"But those don't get you anywhere."

He huffed out something that might have been a laugh, only it didn't sound happy. "No. They don't."

He ducked his head, and his eyes flashed brilliant emerald. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Stay so…hopeful. Optimistic. Certain. You grew up around some of the most cynical creatures outside of demons. You saw the way they view the world, always hungry, always scheming. How their every waking thought is about improving their position in some way –"

"They'd say that it also improves their families' position, and their allies'," I reminded him. "Vampires aren't selfless in the human sense, maybe, but they take care of their own. Sometimes better than humans, since it hurts their power base if they don't."

"Which is my point. It always comes back to them somehow. And you grew up in that, were steeped in it, and yet…you came for me."

"Yeah, well, you know. That wasn't entirely…"

"Wasn't entirely what?"

"I just meant, I got something out of it, too, so you can't say –"

"What did you get?"

"I – we covered that, remember?"

"No. No, I don't remember. I thought we decided that you could find many other people –"

"Not many. I don't know too many half-demon war mages."

"– others, then. To assist you in my place. Such as Caleb. Or Jonas."

"Yes, well…that's…"

"But no, that's not quite right, either, is it?" He tilted his head. "You said something else…something about needing me, for me. What did you mean?"

"I meant – I mean, well, we're friends –"

"Are we? Are we friends?"

"I – yes. What else would you, uh…"

"I am not sure what I would call it. I had never given it much thought until recently. There did not seem to be a point."

"Yes, yes, exactly. And there's no reason to suddenly –"

"But I suppose I shall have to now, if I am returned, that is. Won't I?"

"Um," I said, and stopped. Because I knew how Pritkin argued. I ought to; it was his favorite hobby. Which would have been fine, except that he was better at it than me. And right now he was going in for the kill.

I could tell because of the voice, which had gotten faster and sharper, but also because of the expression. It was his boyish look, which he got when he was pleased, and that usually meant that someone else was about to be in trouble. And there was only one someone else here.

Someone who was employing tactic number two hundred and fifteen in dealing with irascible war mages, and changing the subject.

"I was wondering about something you said earlier, too," I told him. "You said you don't normally come here by choice. Does that mean you don't miss anything about it?"

Normally Pritkin got annoyed when I changed the subject on him – or when I tried. Because half the time, he called me on it. But he didn't this time, and he didn't seem upset. He even smiled slightly, a strange little half smile that I didn't like at all.

"What would I miss?"

"I don't know. Your father's court is…well, parts of it are beautiful –"

"Many things are beautiful. Few are also good." He moved a step closer.

"Yes, I…I guess," I said, backing up slightly. "But it must have been hard, turning your back on all that wealth and power and…"

"There are only masters and slaves there. I did not wish to be either." Another step.

"Well, no. But there must have been other things. I mean, he's a demon lord –"

"There is nothing I want that he can give me."

"But…but you could rule here. You could have anything you want –"

"Not anything," Pritkin said softly, and my legs bumped the bed.

The bed that looked like it was big enough for seven or eight people. And was maybe designed for it, considering where we were. I appeared to have run out of room. And he was still looking at me. But I couldn't read his expression. I just wasn't familiar with that particular –

A thumb reached out and brushed the corner of my mouth.

My thoughts froze, and I couldn't seem to move.

The thumb began to move along my lower lip, slowly tracing its fullness. And my breath sped up, even as it tried to catch. Which should have choked me, but somehow got tangled up in my chest instead. To the point that it hurt.

This wasn't – we didn't – not that he –

"I did have regrets these past six months," he told me quietly. "I found it a curse as much as a blessing, all that time to think. About the things I could have said, that I should have told you…"

I was still doing my best statue impression. I heard his words, and he was clearly speaking English, and yet he made no sense to me. This sounded like, like…

He continued. "I thought I was sparing you, but I think I was really trying to spare myself. For a long time, I was almost grateful for my father's curse. As hard as it was, it made some things simpler. I didn't have to worry; I didn't have to risk telling you how I felt, because it could never go anywhere."

I suddenly realized his expression was fiercer than I'd seen it in a while. "Somewhere in the last six months, I realized that, after what happened to my wife, I returned to earth, yes. But I didn't return to life. I was as much a prisoner there as I was at court. Not just because of the curse, but because I wouldn't allow myself to believe we could have a future together. I was your bodyguard and could never be more, and that was that."

I swallowed hard, and tried to pluck a coherent thought out of the maelstrom in my mind. My world had just tilted on its axis, and I didn't know how to right it. After I found out about his wife, I boxed up any inconvenient feelings because, well. Desiccated corpse wasn't a good look for anyone. But Pritkin had just ripped that box open and dumped it all over the floor and I didn't know what to do with the contents. Wasn't even sure what they were.

Hoping for an epiphany, I stared into the eyes of this new Pritkin. He was very much like mine: fierce and determined and seemingly indestructible. But something had changed. There were casual smiles, when my Pritkin had virtually never smiled unless he was in the process of killing or maiming something. I realized that somewhere along the way he'd wrapped an arm around my waist and was simply holding me against him while we talked, and my Pritkin would never have done that, either. And when had my arms gone around his waist? Clearly this place was getting to me.

I started to take a step back, to try and clear my head, and then I remembered the bed behind me. I had a sudden, visceral desire for him to pin me down to it and kiss me breathless. Only this time, it wouldn't have to stop at that. And where had that thought come from? Pritkin and I just didn't do that unless one of us was dying. Suddenly, though, it was all I could think about, and it must have showed on my face, because if possible his expression became even fiercer.

"You want me too. I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way your body clings to mine. Tell me, Cassie. Tell me what you want."

"I…I…"

"Tell me!"

"I want you, okay? I want you!"

"Why do you want me?"

"Because I love you!" I shouted, and abruptly clamped my mouth closed. What the hell was that? I didn't love him, did I? We were just friends, right?

An expression that could only be described as ferocious satisfaction appeared on his face. That was all the warning I had before he crushed his mouth to mine and (yes, yes) toppled us to the bed.

God, had it really only been a week since the last time I'd been in his arms? It felt like an eternity, like I'd been starving my entire life and only he could fill me. This was right; this was perfect; this was how it was supposed to be. I kissed him back with everything I had, holding nothing back. He took everything I offered and it wasn't enough. He demanded more. He gripped my hair and forced my head back further into the mattress while his other hand made its way down my thigh to wrap my leg around his waist. And if I'd felt underdressed before, suddenly I felt like we both had on way too many clothes.

He read my mind. He expertly undid the flimsy excuse for a top and had it off me before I even knew what was happening. And then his mouth replaced his hand, latching on to a nipple. I arched into him, gasping for air. I plunged my hands into his hair (god, had I really missed his hair?) and urged him on. But the damn man just had to be defiant, and instead of giving me what I wanted he slowed down. His eyes rose to mine and a wicked gleam appeared. He licked and nipped his way back up my chest and neck, back to my mouth, where he proceeded to slowly and thoroughly devour me.

This was definitely not my Pritkin. My Pritkin hardly knew the meaning of the word "slow." This was like, like…

Oh my god, I was absolutely not thinking about Mircea right now. I shoved those thoughts aside and returned to the present to find that Pritkin was still taking his sweet time, making love to my mouth while his hands slowly caressed my torso. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him to me, loving the friction of our clothes and yet wanting them gone. I reached down to try to figure out how to get all that fabric off him, but he was having none of it. He pressed into my hips and used one hand to hold mine in place over my head and I was trapped. I did my best to writhe against him but he was strong, just like I'd known he would be.

He finally came up for air a few moments later, his eyes glittering with power and desire. He lifted himself off me, off the bed, and I mourned the loss of his heat and weight until I realized he was finally going to get rid of the stupid goddamned caftan. I could only stare as he slowly unwound the fabric and revealed the hard muscle beneath. My mouth went dry as he dropped the trousers and showed me that he hadn't developed a sudden fondness for underwear.

He moved to the end of the bed near my feet and started prowling his way up my body, like some great jungle cat moving in for the kill. He skimmed his hands up the legs of the ridiculous harem pants and started to tug them down. The feel of the fabric sliding down my skin was amazingly stimulating, and I felt my nipples peak even harder.

Once the pants were gone, Pritkin started down at my toes, kissing his way up my legs. All I could do was lay back and take it, because I had no strength left to resist. Once he was above my knees he started nipping at me again, sampling my thighs as he worked his way ever upward. He reached the barely-there panties and stopped. He suddenly stared straight into my eyes, not speaking, but clearly asking my permission to proceed. I nodded, and he returned his attentions to my body.

He set to work driving me wild, and there was that single-mindedness that I loved. He was licking me over my panties, which muffled the sensation but was somehow no less arousing. I fisted my hands in his hair again, realizing the futility of trying to direct him to where I wanted to go, but loving the feel of my fingers on his scalp.

Finally, finally, he began to work the panties down and off. A rush of cool air replaced the warmth of his mouth and I shivered, although that may have also been from pleasure. And then his mouth was back and his tongue was inside me before I could even blink, and he was devouring me. I arched and cried out, because it was too much and not enough all at the same time. I came on a scream, pulsing around his tongue, and even though I was seeing nothing but stars I somehow knew he would have a smug smile on his face right about then. I blinked until my vision cleared, to see him looming over me.

"Cassie." I could feel him nudging at my entrance, but he went no further. He seemed to be asking permission again.

"Yes. God, yes, please."

In one thrust he was inside me and I swear I nearly came again. He stayed like that for a long moment, letting me adjust to his size. He leaned over and kissed me tenderly and I could taste myself on his lips, and it was indescribably hot. And then he began to move.

He made love to me slowly, rolling his hips and alternating shallow and deep thrusts, driving me wild with need. It was beautiful and perfect, but what I really wanted was for him to lose some of that iron control. I wrapped a leg around him and he must not have been prepared for me to flip us, because I was actually successful. I put my hands on his chest as I rode him, loving the feel of the crisp hair under my hands as he let me control all that strength and power. I closed my eyes and threw my head back and lost myself in sensation.

He allowed me to be in charge for a little while longer, and then he rolled me under him again. He picked up the pace, thrusting harder and deeper and yes, oh yes, oh yes. I could feel another orgasm building, and fast. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and then grabbed his hair and pulled him back down to my mouth. That was all the time I had before I shattered around him, crying out into his mouth. It must have been all he could take, too, because suddenly I felt one last hard thrust and then he was pulsing inside me. He broke away from my mouth and shouted as he came, and then collapsed on top of me.

We lay there like that for a long time, neither of us able to move. My hands were sliding up and down his back, following a path from the scars on his shoulder, down to the dip of his lower back that I was always so fascinated with. My other hand found his sword tattoo and lazily traced its pattern on his skin.

Pritkin propped himself up and stared down at me intently. "I love you," he said simply.

"I love you, too," I replied, realizing that I really did mean it. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on mine for a moment, and I felt the last remnants of tension leave his body. I wrapped my arms around him and held on, wondering where the hell we went from here.