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any pants? I can get them if you can tell me where they are.”
    Kai’s eyes narrowed. Was this a trick? Get him to admit that he desperately wanted clothing and then withhold it from him? Worse, dress him in female garb and make him beg for favors? Humiliate him?
    She looked sad that he wouldn’t respond. “You’re not going to talk to me, are you?”
    “I have nothing to say to you, Snow Queen.”
    She chewed on her lip. “Boy, they weren’t kidding when they said this bad guy thing would be a challenge.” She tilted her head, staring at him, then said, “You don’t have to call me ‘Snow Queen’. My name is Charlotte. Charlotte Ross.”
    “You have already coerced my name from me,” he said coldly. “What more do you want?”
    She sighed. “A conversation? You’re the only one here.”
    He said nothing.
    “Have it your way,” she told him, and then waved a hand at the polar bear skins. “I brought those because I thought you might be cold. It…It’s not cold here for me. Feels a little warm, actually.” She rubbed her hands along her bare arms in a surprisingly sensual gesture that he’d never seen her do before. Her fingers trailed over that milky pale skin, and gods help him, he watched her with fascination, remembering those frost-tipped fingertips as they stroked his iced-over cock, and the way her gaze had shyly met his. “Anyhow, I’ll look for some pants. If I find you some, I’ll bring them, I promise. No bargaining required.”
    When he continued to remain silent, she gave another unhappy little sigh. She turned and left, and he was alone with the polar bear skins. He hesitated a long moment, not sure if this was yet another test. But when she didn’t return, he grasped one and then threw it around his shoulders, burrowing into the warmth.
    If her goal was to confuse him, she’d succeeded admirably. Kai was downright baffled by her change of heart.
     
    ~~ * * * ~~
     
    It was the first night that Kai had slept comfortably since arriving at the snow queen’s palace. While it was cold, it wasn’t so bone-numbingly chilly that he couldn’t function. Her furs had helped, though it had bothered him that they’d smelled sweet and clean, like she did. Evil shouldn’t smell so wholesome, he thought to himself.
    She returned the next day with a small pack. His pack, he noticed, identifying the buckskin fringe and beadwork as that of his tribe’s. He willed himself not to get too excited, though, waiting for her to make the first move.
    “I found this,” she said in a soft voice, moving toward the bars of his icy prison. She held it up for him to see. “There’s some sort of food inside.” She played with the fringe with long, delicate fingers, and he abruptly thought of her hand on his cock again – and wished he hadn’t. “I suppose this is yours?”
    He gritted his teeth and forced himself not to respond, not to reach through the bars and snatch it back from her.
    “It’s okay,” she said. “I can tell from the way you’re glaring at me that it must be yours. You seem to have an extra-special amount of hate right now. The question is, what do I do with this bag?” She held it out to him and considered, then drew it back.
    And here begin the games , he thought with fury. Now she would make it clear what she was after. More torture? Sexual pleasure? Both?
    “I’d like for you to say my name,” she said in a soft voice. “Please.”
    It was that ‘please’ that got him. It was something she’d never said before. “You are Charlotte Ross.”
    She exhaled, the sound almost relieved. “I am. It’s good to hear someone else say it.”
    Now what did that mean? “You are also the snow queen,” he added in a flat voice.
    She looked sad. “Only because I have to be. I didn’t choose it. I was supposed to be the heroine.”
    What on earth was she talking about? She made no sense.
    She sighed and handed the bag over to him, sticking her hand through the icicles. He could