by Bec McMaster
“No,” he continued, trying to rein in the dreki within him. “If he seeks to test our alliance, then the king won’t hurt you. He’ll charm you. Woo you. Think to seduce you.”
“He’s not interested in seducing me. He’s merely sounding me out about a potential alliance.”
“How the hell is that not seduction?”
“Because the only time he was actually interested in me was when I told him it wouldn’t work because neither of us would give in to the other. The rest of the time Draco was cold. Practiced. Going through his lines. When I said he didn’t strike me as the sort to play at helpful consort, his eyes lit up. He likes a challenge.”
Marduk stared at her speechlessly. Five minutes. Five damned minutes, and the king had clearly managed to propose a union between them, as if Marduk didn’t exist.
And she…. That didn’t sound like she’d said no. No, it sounded like she’d offered a counter deal.
“Stop looking at me like that. Start thinking with your head and not your cock. None of this was aimed at me. You think it’s convenient that a servant directed you our way the second the king started sniffing my hair? Draco wanted you to catch us in an awkward situation, because he’s trying to test the resolve in our party. I know how the Zilittu think. They push and they test and they search for openings. And the second they find one, they attack.”
“Then you need to reassure him there is no opening here.”
Solveig’s hand slid down his chest, and then she pushed away him from her, the heat in her eyes banking. “I hardly think I’m going to be the female he tries to single out from the herd. Elin is breathtakingly beautiful. She’s young. Innocent. Pure. Unattached. If anything, she’s the one who needs to be warned.”
Was she blind?
“He didn’t even glance her way. It will be you. He’s only interested in—”
“Male dreki don’t look at me like that, Marduk.”
“Like what? Like they want to shove you up against a wall and kiss the defiance from you? Like they want to throw you over their shoulder and steal you away to their lairs?”
Because if not, then they’re fools.
“I would like to see them try. I’m the hunter. Not the prey.” Her right hand curled into a fist as she spun back to him. “You said it yourself. No dreki male would ever want a female like me.”
That cursed song.
“I was an idiot. And that’s not what I said at all.” It was like a monster that had grown in the telling, until it was this uncontrollable myth tangled around his throat. “Are you blind? You’re powerful. Dangerous. A challenge to every single male dreki who crosses your path. You think any of them are looking at Elin? Blonde, simpering Elin, who bats her lashes and looks like she’d surrender at the merest hint of a smile? You’re a storm, Solveig. You’re a maelstrom. And maybe males don’t look at you and think of sweet kisses and surrender, but let me assure you, they look. And they wonder whether they have the strength to tame the storm.”
“Tame?” She echoed the word as if it tasted vile.
“I’m merely trying to show you what other males think when they look at you. Don’t think that thought ever crossed my mind. Your fierceness is exactly what I—”
He came to a staggering halt.
And Solveig turned on him as if she sensed weakness. “You what?”
He could barely breathe. But she was advancing upon him as if she’d sensed a mortal wound.
“You what?” she repeated, in a dangerously sultry voice.
Marduk could have lied. He could have avoided her, but as his heart kicked a little harder in his chest, he knew this was a moment from which there was no turning back.
“It’s exactly what I like the most about you,” he admitted.
There were some moments that could never be taken back.
“What you like the most about me?” Solveig repeated.
There was no sign of Marduk’s ever-present smile. Instead, he scowled a little and crossed his arms. “You don’t have to sound so incredulous.”
“You hate me—”
“No.” His denial came swiftly. “I’ve never hated you. I was angry with you at times—you did threaten to kill me, after all. But I’ve never hated you. I may have considered vengeance once or twice, but never seriously.”
Solveig considered the admission, feeling the dreki push within her, until her skin felt stretched. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to ask. “Is that why you chose me? Revenge?”
Their eyes met.
She didn’t know why the concept made her want to throw something.
But Marduk tilted his head as if he was learning far more from her than she was from him, and he slowly dropped his gaze. “No.”
Just that.
No.
Solveig pushed into his space. “Then why? Why me? Why did you do this to me? You had the choice of all three of us.”
“You know why.”
“Because you didn’t want to break Aslaug’s heart. And Siv was so horrified you’d choose her that she was practically trying to vanish into the ground. So you chose me.”
The one daughter whose heart he couldn’t touch.
Silence fell, bringing with it the uncomfortable realization they were alone here. Trapped together in one damned room, with one bed, all for appearances sake.
She couldn’t escape him.
But she needed to put space between them before she lashed out. Maybe he was right. Maybe anger was her defense, because right now, she wanted to hurt him.
“Where are you going?” he demanded as she turned and strode toward the wash chambers.
“Away from you,” she shot over her shoulder. “Before I destroy my clan’s alliance with the Zini.”
A hand snagged her wrist. “Stay. Talk to me. Let me—"
Solveig snarled, turning on him with her knife in hand. She couldn’t even remember drawing it.
“If you stick that knife in me, then you’re not just going to destroy your father’s alliance, you’re going to drag him into a war,” Marduk pointed out, his hand wrapping around hers until her fingers were forced to curl around the hilt.
He forced the dagger to lower.
“I think I’d be forgiven. Have you met you?”
A breath of laughter escaped him. “Oh, Solveig.”
It was more than she could bear.
Shoving through the door into the wash chambers, she moved with feverish energy toward the washbasin. He was right. She could smell Draco on her skin, as well as Marduk’s overpowering scent.
She needed all of it off her.
Water churned as she cupped her hands beneath the faucet and splashed her face, bringing with it the feeling she could breathe again. Solveig rested her hands on the basin and closed her eyes, shuddering as the dreki inside her tried to tear its way free.
Your fierceness is… exactly what I like the most about you.
She didn’t know why those words caused so much damage.
She didn’t care if other dreki didn’t like her.
She was Solveig the Fierce, and the whims of others rarely affected her. She was who she was, and others could either fall in line, get out of her way, or be trampled beneath her heel. To make herself smaller, just because others could not conceive of her greatness was to let others control her.
It was him, she finally conceded, staring at her reflection.
The one time she had ever looked at a man and thought… maybe…. And then he’d hurt her. He’d proven he was just like all of the others, and so she’d locked her fledgling heart away behind her iron walls and she’d never dared risk it again.
And why would she even want to?
The truth struck her hard. You liked him more than you wanted to admit. He could have stolen your heart. If you’d let him.
No wonder her dreki raged. She had very nearly fallen into a trap of her own choosing, and it had been warning her all along.
Marduk tossed the blankets back on their
bed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Solveig ran her fingers through the tangle of her wet hair. Her bath had restored some of her equilibrium and given her time to think. “I thought we’d agreed you were taking the floor?”
“That was for two nights.” There was an edge to his voice. “This is a different situation. You need my scent on your skin.”
Her fingers snagged in her hair. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“What’s the point in even pretending there’s a mating alliance between us if you’re batting your lashes at another man?”
Oh, hell no. “Batting my lashes?”
“Do you know what the problem between us is?” Marduk advanced on her suddenly, lamplight casting flickering shadows over his bare chest. Every inch of him was sleek muscle, and she couldn’t help admiring him.
“I could name a dozen things.” She stepped to the side, intent on moving past him.
He reached out, his arm locking around her waist. “I could name one.”
Their eyes met.
It was a trap. She knew it was a trap, and for the life of her she couldn’t avoid it. “Then name it.”
Marduk leaned closer, his breath whispering over her skin and his eyes alight with amber fire. “We need to fuck. This storm has been brewing between us for years. It needs to be assuaged, before one of us does something we’ll regret.”
The crudity of the word drove a lance of aching desire through her. Solveig pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the pulse of his heart beneath her palm. All she need do was wield claws and she could pluck his heart right out from beneath the cage of his ribs. “It’s such a romantic proposition, Marduk, that I’ll need a chance to consider it.” She cocked her head, nibbling on her lower lip. “I fear I’ll have to decline.”
Ducking under his arm, she sauntered across the room, feeling his eyes follow her.
“Romance? When have you ever desired romance? I thought you preferred truth?”
“Every girl desires a bit of romance.”
“You want me,” he growled behind her. “I know you do. I can see your eyes lingering on me. I can smell it on you.”
Frustration edged his voice.
Good. She wanted it to ache within him just as much as it ached within her.
“I want a great many things in life,” she retorted. “The bodies of my enemies stacked before me. An entire cavern of dwarvish gold that I can swim in. Maybe a few pretty diamonds, because a dreki girl can never have too many diamonds. A collection of crowns. A throne.”
“And not a single mention of another living soul.”
However poorly it might have been sighted, the remark hit its target. She curled her lip at him as she plucked up her comb. “Oh, please. Are you trying to say you’re the type of male who yearns for a volcano large enough for two? Have you named all your future kits yet?”
Marduk crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles in his biceps flexing. “Goddess, no. What would I do with kits? I just find it interesting that your aspirations don’t seem to include anyone else.”
“I haven’t found a male who’d be content to let me rule,” she replied with a shrug. “They always seem to keep pushing for more.”
“I don’t yearn for your crown, Solveig. I just want you. Beneath me.”
There it was, out there in the open.
“That wasn’t what you said ten years ago.”
Anger sparked in his eyes. “Oh, I wanted you. But you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me. You kept throwing me at your sister.”
“Aslaug wished to mate you. I did not.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Solveig.”
“I will.” The comb caught in her hair, and she cursed under her breath.
“Anytime you want to release some tension, let me know,” he said.
“I’m not the one threatening to kill the king we’re trying to entice.”
“Fine. I’ll kill him in the morning then, and none of this need matter.” Marduk plumped the pillow and then fell back onto it, cupping one hand under his head. He didn’t bother to haul the sheets higher, and the entirety of his bare chest was splayed for her perusal.
And he knew it.
Solveig’s eyes narrowed. He was daring her. Daring her to sleep on the floor. Daring her to set him against the king.
Oh, you arrogant prick.
He wanted her, did he? Wanted to release a little tension? Scratch a little itch?
“Move over,” she told him.
Stillness radiated through him, which brought a smile to her lips. Did you think I wouldn’t call your bluff, Marduk?
He swept the blankets down on her side of the bed. “You’re more than welcome to join me.”
“Scent-marking,” she told him. “And that’s all this is. If those hands stray over to my side of the bed, then I’ll remove them.”
He rolled his eyes. “I would never touch a female who didn’t demand it. Your virtue is safe.”
Solveig made sure her curtain of dark hair tumbled over her shoulders as she bent down, aware of the picture she made as she blew the candle out. “Good.”
She didn’t take her eyes off him the entire time.
Darkness plunged into the room.
He wasn’t even breathing, but she’d seen him hitch a breath at the last second, his cock twitching beneath the blankets.
Unknotting the tie on her robe, she let the silk slip down her body, pooling around her feet. The slither it made was as loud as a hoarse whisper.
“Did you just….” He audibly swallowed. “Solveig?”
“What’s wrong, Marduk?”
“Are you… naked?”
Stepping out of her slippers, she sauntered toward the bed, enjoying the sudden shifting of tension between them. “And if I was?”
“Fuck.” He shifted in the sheets. “Has anyone ever told you how evil you are?”
Solveig slipped beneath the sheets, tucking her sheathed knife under her pillow. “What a terrible thing to say,” she purred as her silken nightgown rasped over her skin. He didn’t need to know she was still wearing it. “Why would you make such a claim?”
Marduk rolled toward her, and as her eyesight slowly adjusted to the darkness, she could just make out the curve of his shoulder and the smooth glide of his hip. His voice roughened. “You know exactly what you’ve just done.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied, in her most innocent voice.
“Solveig.” The way he said her name had the inadvertent effect of making her thighs clench. There was heat there. Desire. And he was reining it in hard, choking on it, which made her own breath catch. “When a woman gives me that look, blows out the candle, and climbs in bed with me, it’s usually a plea. It’s a little confusing.”
“And what makes you think it isn’t a plea?” Some part of her enjoyed the power of this moment.
He’d always held the power between them.
Desire.
It wasn’t entirely a shock—he’d pinned her to the floor the day they bound themselves together before her father’s court and kissed her with a passion that enflamed—but she knew what they said about him.
He could charm the very birds from the trees, if he wished.
Kissing her meant nothing. He’d enjoyed it, but he’d held the upper hand, and then he’d vanished without a second thought for her.
But this was personal.
She knew that right now, there wasn’t a single other thought in his head beyond her. The urge to reach for her was driving him toward the edge; she could feel it in the clenched tightness of his knuckles and the restrained way he breathed. Her. This was all her.
“Because you don’t beg.”
“Maybe I could,” she whispered. “Maybe you could teach me.”
Another thoughtful silence.
“I know what this is,” he suddenly said. “You’re trying to make my head explode.” Then his voice roughened. “Fine. Now that I know the rules of the game,
I’ll warn you… turnabout is fair play.” A husky laugh filled the air. “Maybe I will teach you to beg….”
Solveig stilled. She knew what he was suggesting.
A single yes, and he would be all over her—and worse, a part of her wanted that.
But she couldn’t help recalling his reaction when the king made his proposition toward her.
“Sleep well,” she whispered. “I’m sure sharing a bed will leave enough of your scent on me to ensure relations between all courts involved will remain cordial.”
A soft groan tore from him—enough to ignite a smile on her lips.
“I promise you’ll pay for this, Solveig.”
And she laughed as she rolled away from him, tugging the sheets up to her chin. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Don’t you like it when I have the upper hand?”
The bed shifted behind her, leaving her tense with anticipation, but he didn’t reach for her. He kept his promise. “You can have the upper hand, my love, but I promise you this… one day I will have you on your hands and knees for this moment. And you will beg me to put you there.”
12
“You’re enjoying this,” Marduk accused the next morning, dragging out a chair opposite Solveig as she cracked the top of a boiled egg with a silver spoon.
“Yes, I am.” Dipping her spoon into the runny egg, she sucked it with deliberate attention. The silken mass of her hair spilled down her spine, and the robe she wore was dark green.
She looked good in green.
She’d looked good this morning too, stirring sleepily and grumbling at him as he slipped from the bed. Or maybe that had been the fact she’d trespassed on his side of the bed and somehow wound up in his arms. He’d woken with a throbbing cockstand, a waspish female glaring up at him, and a fingernail stabbing into his chest, as she warned him that if he brought that “brutish weapon” anywhere near her, she’d remove it.
It had been with great pleasure that he’d pointed out that she’d been the one who had snuggled into him.
And now he was paying for those words.
