Kur held himself steady with great effort, waiting impatiently for Lana to regain full consciousness. He hadn’t done something like this before — maybe fantasized about it, but that was it. He didn’t count attacking Mary MacDonald as torture or real fun because it had been an accident, spelling her camera with dark magic. Okay, not an accident, but he hadn’t intended for it to explode. Or not explode into so many pieces.
Oh, whatever.
He was puzzled when she didn’t start screaming or demanding to be let go, instead seemingly accepting her position. “What the fu—does that mean?” Kur asked, mindful as always of his mother’s preoccupation with manners. No swearing for him, no sir. Having a smattering of other languages from traveling because of Astrid’s business all his life, Kur worked it out. “I am… ready?” Cocking his head, Kur kept staring down at his captive. “You’re ready to what, Lana? Be my guest for the weekend? Get your punishment for treating a proper lady the wrong way?”