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"You are an absolute menace, Rapunzel," Rowan said, his voice quiet, low, and completely unbothered as he looked up at me from his wooden chair. He didn't look angry.

He didn't even look surprised. He just looked at me like I was a storm that had suddenly blown into his peaceful, orderly room. "And if we are going to survive the people in this castle, we need to work together."

"Don't call me Rapunzel," I snapped, glaring at him. "My name is Zelpunrap. Rapunzel is the useless twin they kept locked in the dark while her sister played saint."

"As you say, Rapunzel," he replied smoothly, a faint, infuriating smirk touching his lips. He didn't flinch as I strolled closer, my hands clasped loosely behind my back, letting my gaze sweep over him with exaggerated pity.

"Rowan, darling, look at you," I said, leaning down until my face was inches from his. "You sit in a wooden chair all day while your guards tremble at shadows and your court whispers behind your back. What exactly do you bring to a partnership with a vampire?"

"More than you think," Rowan answered softly. He reached up and unfastened the top two silver buttons of his collar, as if the room had suddenly grown too warm for him.

I rested my hands on the arms of his chair, trapping him between my arms. "I don't need a partner, husband. I need a kingdom that stays out of my way while I enjoy my freedom. The moment you become useless to me, I'll bite through that throat of yours and take Averaine for myself."

"Is that a promise?" he asked, a faint, dangerous glint passing through his dark eyes.

He reached up, his long, warm fingers lightly brushing against my wrist to gently shift my hand. The moment his skin touched mine, I froze.

Vampires are cold. Muted, icy, and sharp. Mortals are warm, but their warmth is weak…like a dying candle in a cold draft.

But the moment Rowan's fingers wrapped around my wrist, it felt like I had pressed my hand against a furnace. Heat radiated from his skin in thick, heavy waves, sinking straight into my cold flesh.

I narrowed my eyes, grabbing his hand tightly before he could pull it away. I dragged his palm closer, pressing my fingers directly against the pulse point in his wrist, then against his throat.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I muttered, my playful, arrogant tone dropping instantly.

"Nothing is wrong with me," Rowan replied calmly, though he didn't try to shake off my grip.

"You're burning," I said, staring at his face. I pressed my palm flat against his chest, right over his linen shirt. The heat soaking through the fabric was absurd. It wasn't normal human fever. It felt like holding a heated brick fresh out of the coals. "Your heart is beating like a drum, and your skin is radiating heat like a sun. Are you dying, Rowan? Is your body boiling itself from the inside out?"

Rowan let out a soft, amused breath, his chest expanding beneath my hand. "I assure you, my health is fine, Rapunzel."

"Zelpunrap," I corrected sharply, digging my fingernails lightly into his chest through his shirt. "And fine? Humans don't run hot like this unless their organs are melting from sickness. Is this the real reason you sit in this chair? Because your body can't handle whatever fever is destroying you?"

"I am not sick," Rowan said quietly, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made the room feel suddenly very small. "Some men are cold. I am simply not."