Master of Storms: Dragon Shifter Romance (Legends of the Storm Book 5)

by Bec McMaster

  The words ricocheted through her like cannon shot.

  You. You hurt me.

  But admitting that meant admitting there’d been something there, between them.

  She tore her hand from his grasp.

  “Knowledge is power, Solveig, and you don’t want anyone to know you, because if they don’t know you, then they can’t hurt you.”

  “Why don’t we turn the tables? I’ve seen you with your family and your brother. There’s resentment between the two of you, I’m sure of it. I’ve seen you with your court. You run, Marduk. The moment things grow complicated, you start looking toward the horizon. Escape is your shield, and if you don’t let anyone close to you, then you don’t have to suffer. So who hurt you?”

  Lightning flashed in his eyes. Irritation. But he forced his jaw to work. “You first.”

  “I owe you nothing.”

  “Why does everything between us have to be such a fucking fight?”

  “Because that’s what we do.”

  “It doesn’t always have to be this way.” The muscle in his jaw worked. “I’m trying to—”

  “What?” She drove the fork into the table. “What are you trying to do?” Leaning closer, she hissed in his ear. “Because this isn’t real.”

  “You’re right. It isn’t real.” Cutting her a hard look, he pushed to his feet. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Excuse me.”

  “Run, Marduk,” she called softly.

  The glare he threw over his shoulder almost incinerated her. “Attack, Solveig. Your weakness is showing.”

  And then he was gone, leaving her with a sour taste in her mouth.

  She wasn’t always on her guard. She didn’t always attack first. He’d earned it. To let him under her guard once had been a mistake, and she’d paid for it. To let him in again would be akin to slitting her own throat.

  Wouldn’t it?

  There was a little hole in her chest that couldn’t be filled. She sat alone, and while she’d always appreciated her own company, she couldn’t help being aware of the lack of his.

  It was his energy—the way he always filled a space.

  It had to be.

  Marduk swiftly joined Draco’s brother. A swift laugh, a clap on the back, and he was suddenly friends with Rune. She could almost see the wariness melt off the Zilittu royal as Marduk began speaking in animated tones, waving his hands as if he was describing some sort of adventure he’d had.

  “Goddess, I need some air.” She slipped from the table, knowing that despite his newfound friends, he stared after her.

  He wasn’t the only one who watched her go.

  Draco murmured something to Árdís and then caught her eye. He didn’t follow her, but he would at some stage. She knew he would.

  And she wanted none of it.

  The gardens were gorgeous, and Solveig took refuge in them, trying to breathe through the fury she could finally unleash.

  She’d thought she could do this—swallow down all her pain and rage and play politics.

  But being here—seeing the echo of Fornax in Draco’s face—was like having all her old scars torn open. And with Marduk pushing and pushing at her, as if he sought to… what? Undo her?

  It would take a handful of days to find the key, she reminded herself. A week at most. What was a week?

  Torture, that’s what it was.

  “You’re avoiding me” came a voice.

  Solveig froze, a hand cupping a bloodred rose. Sounds of revelry echoed from within the ancient keep’s dining hall.

  She hadn’t expected company this quickly.

  So they were going to have this confrontation sooner rather than later. The hilt of her knife felt comforting in her sleeve.

  And there was the king, coming toward her like an old nightmare.

  Tall and broad-shouldered, with his hungry wolf’s smile, it was like looking into the face of a younger Fornax. And despite the fact she’d spent years building her reputation, she was half-tempted to flinch.

  You are not a little girl now, she whispered to herself. You don’t have to be frightened. You killed that bastard, and he can’t haunt you anymore.

  She’d told herself those words a thousand times or more, and her spine straightened in defiance.

  “Why ever would I avoid you, Your Highness?”

  Draco slid both hands into the pockets of his trousers, cocking his head slightly as he considered her. “Because my uncle stole your mother from you and haunted your nightmares for years.”

  Direct, then. She almost appreciated it, if not for the hard slam of her heart against the cage of her ribs.

  “Do you know how I end those nightmares? I drive my knife through his eye every single night, and I laugh as he screams and begs for mercy. Because he did, you know. And I let him plead; I let him have an ounce of hope, before I plunged my thumb through his other eye and killed him.”

  Hooded eyelids swept low over his eyes. “Good. He deserved to die.”

  It wasn’t what she’d expected.

  She was forced to reconsider him.

  The Zilittu were warriors and marauders and always had been. As a clan, ambition consumed them.

  And while this king might be proffering words of peace, she could see that same hunger within him.

  “My clan owes you a debt, Solveig.” Draco’s voice became whisper-soft, but there was no gentleness to it. Instead, he reached for her hand, brushing featherlight fingers across the back of it. “We paid our weregild for your mother’s loss, but no price can ever make up for the loss of a mother. I wished to apologize in person, because I know the loss burdens you. Just as I know there’s a knife in your other hand, and you would use it if you had cause.” He gave her a slightly dangerous smile. “And I wished for you to know that you do not have cause.”

  “An apology from a Zilittu king…. In my court we have a saying about such a thing.”

  “Don’t trust it?”

  “Something along those lines, yes.”

  “And now you’re wondering why I would offer such a thing. You’re wondering what game I’m playing?”

  “Perhaps.”

  He leaned closer, his fingers resting—just briefly—on the side of her face and his thumb pausing on the indentation of her chin. His whisper held a certain kind of heat she’d never anticipated. “I’m playing the most dangerous game of all. King takes queen.”

  Solveig stilled.

  Is he…?

  She drew back a little warily.

  “I’m already mated,” she pointed out. “As are you. And I don’t take kindly to the concept of deception—nor the idea of shaming another woman.”

  “Andromeda is aware I intend to end our match. It was her idea. She wishes to return to her home. And both you and I are locked into political alliances that don’t suit us,” he replied coldly. “I saw the pair of you arguing. I know of your past.”

  “A lovers’ tiff. And the past is between the pair of us. Don’t believe all the whispers, Draco.”

  He smiled, clearly disbelieving her. “The Sadu and the Zilittu share similar territory. Politically, a realignment between our courts would be more valuable to both of us. As I said, the Zilittu have caused past debts, and I would clear them.”

  “That sounds a little too honorable for a Zilittu king.”

  There was danger written all over him as he leaned toward her. “If it makes you feel better, I killed my father in order to take his throne. I’m not honorable, Solveig. I am merely practical. For centuries we have lived alone, waging wars with brutal efficacy and isolating ourselves. The Zilittu are strong enough to ward off any intruder, but the isolation weakens us. I wish to reenter the dreki world, and to do that I need an alliance.”

  “You need a consort who grants you those ties.”

  “Yes.”

  This time, it was her turn to smile. “The problem is, I need a consort too. And I doubt you’d bend knee before my throne and agree to surrender all familial ties to your own c
lan.” Every inch of her enjoyed the sudden flare of shock in his eyes. “Or did you think me unambitious too?”

  Heat smoldered behind the icy gray of his eyes. “An ambitious queen…. If you think to put me off, then know that you’ve failed. Indeed, quite the opposite.”

  He’d been eyeing her as the key to a political battle. A means to an end.

  She knew she was no true beauty, so it wasn’t entirely surprising. Andromeda was so stunningly gorgeous that it had to have been something else. “I’m not a game to be won.”

  “No?” He glanced down at the hand pushing at his chest, his voice roughening. “Everything is a game to be won.”

  “Even Andromeda?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Solveig pushed past him with a laugh. “I mean that I find the timing of events interesting…. A match is struck between the Ethiopian clan and the Zilittu. A daughter in exchange for an antidote. Except, you weren’t the heir then, were you, Draco? Your brother was. Scorpius was always your father’s favourite. And he was promised a queen. And though I don’t have a full transcript of events, it seems your queen arrived, your father was overthrown, and your twin was exiled all within the same month.” Solveig tapped a finger against her lips. “I’ve been watching tonight. Andromeda allows you to take her hand, though she swiftly disengages. She’s exquisitely polite. She sits at your side. She smiles at you with her mouth—and never her eyes—but she’s angry with you. Did you steal her from your brother?” She saw the flare of heat in his eyes, swiftly concealed. “Or no, the real question is: Does she want your brother, and not you? Have you finally realized that your queen will have none of you? And here I am, a distraction. A means to hurt her back. It’s almost a little insulting, Draco.”

  He watched her angrily, and she thought for a moment that she might have to use the knife, after all.

  “Here you are,” he said coldly. “A woman who doesn’t wear her mate’s scent on her skin. A woman who sits beside him with her knees tightly crossed, and her wineglass between them. A woman who looks like she wants to bite her mate’s fingers should he dare touch her, and then glances after him longingly once she’s scared him away. You’re not the only one watching, Solveig. You’re not the only one who notices the distance between an allegedly mated couple.” He prowled toward her. “You and I are alike—”

  “Too alike.”

  He ignored her. “We both want what we can’t have. So why not take what will give us both power?”

  “Because, if I considered your proposition, I can’t help thinking that one day I would have to murder you in your sleep, and I don’t think that suits your ambitions, at all. Though it might suit mine. You do have a pretty crown, and I like collecting crowns. I can add it to my hoard, and think fondly of the foolish king who thought to conquer me.”

  A rare, genuine smile broke over his face as he captured her wrist. “If anything, you’re only convincing me of my pursuit.”

  “Go back to your consort,” she challenged. “And I will go back to mine.”

  “If Marduk was truly yours,” Draco whispered, “then it wouldn’t matter how long it had been since you’d shared a bed. His scent would mark your skin.”

  Their eyes met.

  “But he doesn’t share your bed, does he? He hasn’t touched you, has he? But he wants to. I know that look, Solveig.”

  “I think you’ve seen it in the mirror,” she countered, “because you may claim the alliance between yourself and Andromeda is not to either of your satisfaction, but you still look at her, Draco.”

  Footsteps echoed up the stairwell.

  Marduk appeared at the top of the stairs.

  Only… she’d never seen him look like this before.

  Gone was the golden prince. The charmer. The constant smile that mocked her.

  In its place was a dreki prince whose shoulders blotted out the torchlight behind him. Marduk paused as he took in the scene, though there was no hesitance in his eyes, but something coldly vicious. “Am I interrupting something?”

  Solveig took a deep breath. “Not at all.”

  The king laughed under his breath. “Just… a possible treaty.”

  Marduk looked like he wanted to murder someone. Snagging his arm, she squeezed his biceps. “I believe the king said you knew the way to our chambers?”

  His attention jacked toward her at the use of that “our.”

  He didn’t look like he wanted to take her back to their chambers at all. He looked like he wanted to either fight Draco or fuck her. Anything to reclaim her as his own.

  “Come,” she whispered, sliding her other hand up his chest. “I want to get out of these constricting clothes and bathe. Maybe you could wash my back?”

  And then she pushed him back toward the stairwell even as he cut a fierce stare over her shoulder toward the king.

  11

  “Wash your back?” Marduk demanded the second the doors to their chambers slammed shut. “Now I know something was going on up there between the two of you.”

  “Yes.” Solveig rolled her eyes at him. “Two posturing dreki males were about to start snapping and snarling over me like a pair of dogs with a bone. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing is wrong with me.” Marduk tore his coat off and threw it on the bed, still feeling the urge to hit someone.

  Preferably the king.

  The bastard had had the audacity to smile at him the second Solveig’s back was turned.

  In dreki terms, Draco had just thrown a gauntlet between them.

  “You were rude to the king we’re trying to deceive,” Solveig told him.

  “Draco was practically salivating over you,” he growled.

  “He is mated.”

  “That didn’t seem to bother him.”

  “Well, it bothers me,” she snapped back. “I don’t play those sorts of games, especially not when there is another female involved—even if the match is only political, and even if there’s a possibility it’s going to end. And the idea that you think I would is insulting.”

  Marduk slammed to a halt. “I didn’t think you would—”

  “No, you weren’t thinking at all. You saw another male sniffing around your property, and you turned into some idiot who had to stake his claim.”

  “I do not think of you as my property.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “I wasn’t…. I was just…. He’s the enemy!”

  He couldn’t even understand it himself.

  Solveig wasn’t his. This wasn’t real. He had no idea why he was even acting like a cat who’d suddenly found an enemy tom in his territory. It felt like all his hackles were on edge, and he couldn’t offer a smile so much as bare his teeth.

  “Really? He’s the enemy?”

  “Oh, please.” His voice came out in a growl. “If I was your enemy then you wouldn’t be here.”

  “There’s a threat to my court. You’re a means to an end. And I thought we were here to find the key to close the portal to Álfheimr? I thought this was a matter of life or death.”

  “It is,” he snapped.

  “Then why are you prowling around the room as though you’ve just sighted a dreki intruder in your lands?”

  “I am not….” He paused. He was pacing. And there was no point lying about it to her. “He didn’t set your teeth on edge?”

  Solveig poured herself some wine, one of those dark brows arching. “Not quite the impression I gained, no.”

  And then she smirked into her wineglass.

  He was going to murder that prick—

  “Marduk!” A hand caught his shoulder, and he realized he was almost at the door, reaching for the doorknob. “What is wrong with you?”

  “He challenged me, the second he put his hands on you.”

  Solveig shoved him against the door, and his breath slammed out of him. In two seconds, he had a furious female dreki at his throat. “It was just a little game. Draco was sounding out our relationship since he
couldn’t smell your scent on me.”

  “Yes, but….”

  Words failed him as he caught a tantalizing sniff of her skin—and realized there was another scent laid over the top of it.

  A cold, vicious male scent.

  All over her.

  He grabbed a fistful of her hair and breathed it in. Sudden rage exploded through him. He bared his teeth at her. “I can smell him on you.”

  The world vanished in a conflagration of fury.

  He’d never felt like this before. A complicated mix of jealousy and arousal sounded through his head, obliterating his vision for a second, until all he could see was Draco smirking at him.

  A hand pounded against his chest.

  He captured it and pinned it there, Solveig’s face slowly coming back into focus. He was reaching for the door again and he couldn’t remember moving. It took physical effort to restrain himself

  “Don’t you dare,” she said. “You’re acting like a jealous, possessive male.”

  “I am not a jealous male, but the king needs to learn that you are—”

  “What?” she demanded.

  Mine. He couldn’t say it, but the word blazed through him as though it had set some part of him alight. “My mate.”

  Solveig hissed, and there was a wildness within her eyes that made his cock clench. “He’s not truly interested in me, you fool. He’s baiting you. He’s trying to see how strong this alliance is. Nothing more.”

  Well, it worked.

  Marduk captured her other wrist. And gods it felt good. To get his hands on her. To back her against the door. “If you think Draco’s not interested in you, then you should take another look at the way he watches you, my love. Don’t find yourself alone with him again.”

  Solveig threw her head back and laughed, the sultry sound echoing through their chambers. “Or what? You think I won’t kick his teeth through the back of his head if he tried to do something to me?”

  “I don’t think he means to attack you.”

  She fell still, and this time when their gazes locked, there was a predatory stillness within her. Her back was to the door, and the urge to shove her against it, to lean down and capture that dangerous mouth was almost all-consuming—