"Maybe there's some entrance in the floor. A trap door leading to some elevator or something we can't see." I drop to my knees and pull up one rug. I'm starting to feel a familiar sense of panic build and dig my fingers into the space between two stones to see if anything moves. No matter how hard I try, I'm doomed to fail him.

The thought pierces me to the core and I sit back.

"'Tis the same for me every day."

Not expecting such a human emotion from him, I sit back and face the Shadow Knight. He doesn't look anywhere as upset as I am about it. More . . . contemplative.

The instinct warning me about getting too involved is screaming again.

This time, I ignore it. "How can you say that?" I ask with some frustration. "You have so much power and strength. No one can stop you. You fail at nothing and win every battle."

"In three days, my realm vanishes." There's a mocking note in his voice, along with bitterness. "And you have no power."

"But that's not our faults," I protest.

The Shadow Knight draws closer, seating himself on a stool near me. I automatically suck in a breath of his dark, heady scent and wait with some reticence for whatever otherworldly explanation he'll offer up. There's no part of him capable of failing. I'm almost angry at him for claiming to know what it feels like to have the world reject him at every turn.

He pulls a second stool before him and pats it.

I sit on it obediently. We're close enough that my knees are between his, our eyes on the same level his elbows on his thighs.

"My predecessors fought for a thousand years to unite the kingdoms, each aided by a powerful battle-witch."

"You said three succeeded," I point out, dread in my stomach. "They didn't have me either."

"Which is why they ultimately failed when they returned to the seat of the kingdom to face the curse alone. My idea is that 'tis not the knight who need face the curse, but his battle-witch, armed with the Heart of Black Moon Draw and her magic."

If so, we're all doomed. "There has to be a better way. You're taking too many lives and I can't believe destroying half the kingdoms to save the other half is really the right way to do this! Not only that, but you're relying on me, and I think we both know that's the worst possible choice you have!" Swallowing hard, I stop to rein in what emotion I can. "Can you even take over two more kingdoms before your time is up? And what happens if I suddenly disappear back to my world?"

What happens if I don't help, and he fails? The idea I might be useless and trapped here, that my fate is tied to that of the Shadow Knight and his world, hits me harder than falling a hundred feet off a castle.

What if I never leave?

What if I do and abandon him and his world to die?

Understanding his motivation, I have to think he can't seriously be comfortable placing the fate of his kingdom on my shoulders after my performance in battle, and that there's got to be a better way that doesn't involve the deaths of so many.

The Shadow Knight is quiet. I'm afraid to know what he's thinking. He's watching me intently, maybe even waiting for me to magically morph into a battle-witch now that I know how important I am in the end game.

"Your army subdues the realm and I face the curse," I say aloud.

"Aye, since your battle magic leaves much to be desired. 'Tis the only explanation."

"I'm going to kill you all, aren't I?" I whisper. "Because I'm a terrible battle-witch?"

"Mayhap." The corner of his mouth is pulled up in a faint smile.

"I don't find this funny!"

"But you finally understand why you must fight as I do." He holds my gaze, green, blue, and purple sparkling deep within the dark depths. The strange sparkles are entrancing and I find myself staring too long.

With a shake of my head, I lean back against the stone wall behind me. "So even if I don't help you on the battlefield, I have to use magic to stop the curse as the final part of the legend."

"Aye."

"I'm not sure that's possible. Even if it is, I don't know how. I know this has a bunch of magic in it" I lift the medallion and drop it "but I don't know how to access it. Did any of the other battle-witches tell you how to use it?"

"My army is at battle now with Brown Sun Lake. 'Tis upon us only to break the curse." He shakes his head.

A trickle of relief hits me. If he's here, he can't be mortally wounded in the battle, as he was in the initial draft by LF.

"I have faith in my battle-witch," he adds.

"But you shouldn't!" I cry desperately. "You should be looking for another way. No one has ever believed in me, because I'm not worth believing in!" Upset at admitting the truth to the one man I'd really like not to think I'm worthless, I stand and start away.

God this place is so small! There's nowhere to hide and cry! Since arriving to Black Moon Draw, I've been off-balance, afraid to learn too much for fear of caring and winding up hurt, of throwing myself into this adventure fully. Afraid I do go home, and miserable life would be the same.

The Shadow Knight catches me around the waist, halting me in place. His grip tightens, until his chest is against my back. I'm struggling not to cry, my breathing shallow and quick, my eyes burning. He holds me quietly, his second hand resting at the base of my neck in a movement both possessive and reassuring. I strain against him for a moment, needing space rather than touch yet too turned on by his body to want to leave it completely.

"Calm, witch," he says softly.

I need a hug, and I don't care if it's from him. Twisting in his grip, I slide my arms around him and take a deep breath of brownies and clover. His scent has a way of melting me from the inside out. Any part of me that's not rendered spineless by it folds to the thick arms and wide chest I'm soon pressed against. My body molds against his perfectly. There's no discomfort the way I felt with Jason, who was taller than me but not quite tall enough for me to fit against him like this.

Like we were made for each other.

The Shadow Knight is quiet. He rests his chin against my head and I listen to his heartbeat.

"I believe in you, witch. You should, too," he says firmly. "I can cut off another hand, if it convinces you."

"No," I mumble against his chest. God, I just want to strip his clothes off and smell his skin directly! My lower belly is in flames, the hollow between my legs soaked. I can't remember ever being so aroused.

Or so determined not to fold to my physical need because of the issues remaining between us.

He lifts my chin, and I gaze up at him, heart pounding in my chest. "Had we more time . . ." he drifts off, eyes going to my lips. He's getting hard, his long, thick arousal pressed to my belly. I want so badly for the hand at the small of my back to drift a little farther south, for those sculpted lips to touch mine, for him to command me in bed the way he does outside. There's fire in his eyes and it awes me. That he's attracted to someone like me is nothing short of amazing.

Engaged. I repeat the word over and over. I can never do to another woman what Jason did to me.

"We need to leave," he says with reluctance. His thumb runs across my lips.

I almost sigh in relief. I'm not gonna be the one to walk away, if he kisses me. "I'm not Rapunzel. I can't get us out of the tower."

"We will conquer this challenge."

"You're very calm for losing four days."

"What use is anger right now? I cannot channel it towards my enemies from within the tower," he replies. "My armies are on the border of Brown Sun Lake. They await us."

"Okay." It kills me to say that word, knowing he wouldn't back down if I kissed him.

Releasing me, he flips open a nearby trunk with his foot and leans down to grab clothing. "You will have to wear these. Your boots are here." He points to the hearth, where the boots made for me are sitting.

Breathlessly, I watch him, my whole body humming with desire strong enough that I'm afraid to walk, lest my shaky thighs betray me.

Tossing the clothing to me, he places his hands on his hips and waits.

"Hel-lo." I do my best to glare at him and twirl my finger in the air for him to turn around. "Privacy."

"I have already seen every inch of you with more intimacy than any other woman I've ever "

"I know." My face is hot again. "Humor me."

He turns his back to me.

Not trusting him, I yank on the pants and fasten them before tugging off the nightgown and replacing it with the tunic.

Ugh. I hate the idea of not wearing a bra. My boobs are too large for me to run comfortably without one. Tucking in my shirt, I grimace at bunching it up over my hips. While comfortable, the snug pants aren't anything I'd choose to wear. They're stretch pants, made of leather, thick enough to smooth out my thighs and ass.

A vest similar to that Disney Princess helped me put on is the last thing in the pile, also made of leather and much stiffer than the pants.

"I'm ready," I say, lifting the vest. "Not sure I need this, though."

Three large steps bring him to my side of the room. He takes the vest. "Arms up."

I lift them obediently.

He tugs the vest over my torso, releases then begins fastening the buttons along the front, from the bottom up. "You adjust it depending on the size of your breasts."

He's fastening their version of a bra. Beyond embarrassed again, I try not to notice the way his long fingers deftly button the bodice-hugging vest.

"Different. Where I'm from," I manage, too aware of the fact he's nudging one of my breasts up to fasten a button beneath it. "I can do it!" The words are louder, sharper than I intend.

I whirl my back to him and fumble with the final buttons, about to lose any sense of cool I might've retained during this rough morning. The vest is moderately comfortable and will keep my boobs still.

Bathroom! I look around expectantly and spot the magical outhouse that appears when I order it to. My fingers fumble with the lock, my thoughts too scattered by images of the Shadow Knight naked for me to focus on any one thing. I manage to open the door and sink against one wall, sighing, cursing, and willing myself to act like a grown woman instead of a horny teen.

When I've done my business and recovered my composure enough to face him once more, I emerge.

The outhouse disappears.

"Ready," I proclaim with more confidence than I feel. "Now what's the plan?" I avoid looking at him and go to my boots by the hearth.

"Jumping will likely render us dead. So we go up."

"Up?" Sitting on a stool, I wrestle one boot on then the next. There's no blood anywhere. While stiff, they fit. "You cleaned these, didn't you?"

"Aye."

A weird sensation is sliding through me, one I can't identify. This man I'm struggling to keep my distance from spent four days watching over me, cleaning me up, and caring for me, down to my boots. It's never happened before and not only because this is my first time getting thrown into another world. I've never really known anyone except my mom who would've done similar.

I don't want him to have redeeming qualities. I want him to be obsessed with war and physically attractive but no more.

You have a reason to stay. The battle queen's words repeat in my mind.

It can't be him. If that's remotely true, it'll be because I'm a good person who wants to save a world from dying, not because I'm starting to fall for a man I can never have.

Pure. Physical. Attraction. It can be nothing else. Being with him is getting under my skin, and his kindness while I was dead or healing stirs a powerful emotion I'm not ready to deal with.

"I will help you return to your home, if you face the curse," he says in the quiet.

I blink away my pensive silence and stand. "Can you even do that?"

"I may know a way."

Frowning at him, I scour his features. "You told me you didn't!"

"You will not leave now that you understand why you must stay. 'Twas not true before. I lied to keep you here."

"So assuming we can save the world, you'll send me home?"

"Aye."

My pulse quickens. I want to go home, but . . . Sneaking a look at him, I try to determine if he's interested in me staying. He's emotionless and I'm distressed to think I might like him more than he does me.

Like every other relationship I've ever been in.

It's not possible to have a relationship with him, I remind myself. "Sounds good." The words are forced.

With a nod of satisfaction, he crosses to the bed and yanks off the bedding, pulling a sheet free. He wraps one end around his waist and ties it then moves to me and does the same around my waist. "This time, if one of us falls, we both do."

I meet his gaze, not sure how to take that statement. Threat? Reassurance? There's no telling with this man.

He goes to the window and leans out, twisting his torso to look up. "This is how we escape."

I mirror his movements and see a thick black chain extending from the top of our tower into the mist, where it appears to be connected to the sky.

"How is that possible?" I breathe, squinting to see what the chain is hooked to at the top. It goes on forever and disappears into the fog far above.

"Ancient magic." The Shadow Knight vaults onto the sill and stretches upward to the roof of the tower. He pulls himself up effortlessly with strength I know better than to assume I have. "Come, witch." He's lying on the roof and offers me a hand.

I look down. The bay might as well be a million feet below. "You sure about this?"

"Do you intend to use your magic?"

Not purposely. I wipe my hands on the pants. "You won't drop me because I'm a terrible battle-witch?"

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

I know as much. He's twice my size and strong enough that I don't stand a chance, despite the self-defense class I took in college. Reaching up, I take his hand with both of mine.