by Bec McMaster
The storm was no longer solely in the skies, but within him. It lashed wildly within the cage of his ribs, and he could swear its lightning struck his charred heart, again and again, until he could barely breathe.
You lied to me.
You left me.
Was any of it ever real?
It was all he could do to choke the words down and stop the storm from erupting. And worse... he didn't know in that moment what he intended. Nothing was going right. In his head he'd planned this meticulously; a swift kidnapping, a cool interrogation, and then... then he'd walk away from her so she knew exactly how it felt.
But right now, all he could think of was the taste of her treacherous mouth and how long it had been since he'd kissed her.
"Did you miss me, wife?" he snarled, locking away those feelings.
"What are you doing here?"
"What am I—" He cursed, and then banked his rage, even as thunder grumbled in the skies. "Did you think I would forget you? Did you think I wouldn't look for you?"
"I—"
"You vanished," he rasped. "Without a word, without a single trace. And you dare think I wouldn't come after you?"
"Is that why you're here?" she whispered, her gaze darting over his face hungrily, as if she'd almost forgotten what he looked like. "For me?"
And he didn't know himself what the truth was.
Árja—no, Árdís—still looked the same, and she still smelled the same—wildflowers and green grass mixed with the aftereffects of a summer storm. He'd told himself he'd locked his heart away behind a wall of steel, but just the sight of her aroused feelings he'd thought long buried.
Pain, mostly.
Regret and bitterness, and worse, that whispering sense of desperation within him that promised if she'd just kiss him, just once, he could forget everything.
Forgive everything.
The skies opened up, a curtain of rain drenching them. Árdís's gaze lingered on a droplet of water that clung to his lips, and damn her, but his cock clenched, and he could almost taste her skin on his tongue. He knew every inch of her body, and the sounds she made when he kissed his way down her body. He knew the feel of the soft curve of her spine as she lay in his arms, her breath softening into sleep. The past flickered between them, ghostly images of a thousand memories he knew they both saw in that moment.
Lies. All of them silky, torturous lies designed to cripple him.
If he had any heart left, he thought it might have finally crushed him, but he was cold and empty inside. The storm of fury was all he had left, and even then she brought him to his knees with but one hot, silky-lashed look from those eyes.
Somehow he turned his head toward poor Bjorn and Tormund. "Leave us."
The pair of them vanished without argument.
"I am here for retribution," he said, his voice smoky and rough. That wouldn't do. He couldn't let her see how low she'd brought him. "I am here because I've spent the last seven years hunting for you. Killing dragons. Becoming little more than a mercenary. I have lost everything—my honor, my way of life—because of you. I won't ask you to repay that debt. But I will have answers from you, I swear."
Thunder rumbled. Slowly, he forced himself to unhand her, stepping back and curling his fists at his sides before he gave in to the temptation to brush the wet strand of hair from her lips.
He'd thought he was ready to bury this connection between them, but one glance into those amber eyes revealed the truth: he could never escape what she'd done to him.
"Come."
"Why should I? You tried to kidnap me. Your man put a bag over my head. You could have gotten him killed!"
Tugging a bracelet of beaten gold from his pocket, he snapped it around her wrist. Light flickered as the ends fused together, and Árdís gasped.
"What are you doing? What is this?"
"The hessian bag was a distraction. And the cuff is a means to keep you confined until I am done with you."
"What have you done to me?"
"Insurance," he growled. "I made a little deal with a sorcerer I tracked down."
Árdís tried to pry apart the golden links. He could have told her there was no point in trying. Until he said the words to release the spell, the bracelet would hold her in her mortal form.
"I can't feel my magic," she hissed.
"And you won't be able to access it until I release you. You owe me a confrontation, Árdís. And I'm not going away until I've had it."
She shoved him backward into a wall, and he hit hard, surprised by her strength. Then she shook her hand, her amber eyes flashing with fury when she clearly encountered the spell work within the bracelet—a spell that would keep her confined to her mortal shape, unless he took it off her.
A thousand emotions danced over her face. He was prepared for rage, or fury. Prepared to fight her on this.
But what settled in her eyes was a flicker of fear. "And you will release me?"
A single hint of worry, and his guts twisted into knots.
Damn you, she's playing you for a fool.
"Once we've spoken." He pushed away from the wall, and her body tensed, as if prepared to flee. The moment froze him, their gazes clashing.
Haakon slowly reached for her hand, moving with careful intent, so she'd have all the time in the world to shove him away if she wished it. "I promise."
Her shoulders slumped. Then she punched him in the chest with a balled fist. "You idiot! You should never make deals with such creatures. What did it cost you? Your soul?"
Far too late for that. Someone else had owned that from the moment he set eyes upon her.
"Not quite."
She glanced up at the skies, and lightning stabbed the town. Clearly the bracelet hadn't entirely muted her powers. "I swear to all the gods, Haakon, you should take this off me and let me go, right now."
"Or what?" He was beyond caring. "You'll tear my throat out?"
Her eyes flashed with heat. "You truly think the worst of me, don't you? Where are we going? And what do you want from me?"
"I have rooms in town."
"Rooms?"
"Don't fear, my lying little wife. I have no intention of touching you ever again. Once was enough, and I'd rather skin myself alive than taste such sweet poison again. All I want is answers."
"We don't have time for this," Árdís said, looking at the skies as Haakon dragged her toward the inn.
Haakon.
In the flesh.
The shock had cleared and she was able to think again.
All her secret hopes and dreams melded into one horrific nightmare—for though her heart soared at the mere sight of him, she could sense them plunging desperately toward a confrontation she'd given everything to avoid. There were dreki in town. She could feel the shiver of the storm over her skin, fueled by their power.
If Sirius caught sight of him....
If her mother heard word of this....
"I have all the time in the world."
"I'm not here alone. There are others, and they would not take kindly to you manhandling me," she cried, wrenching at his hold.
Haakon turned abruptly, and once against she was face-to-face with him. Or nose-to-chest, as it were. She'd forgotten how tall he was.
Or perhaps he'd changed over the years they'd been apart. He'd been a man just past the threshold of youth when they first met. Tall and lean, with shoulders twice as wide as his narrow hips, and hair that gleamed silver in the moonlight.
The promise of the man he'd mature into had more than been fulfilled.
Haakon was almost the same size as Sirius now, his shoulders heavily muscled beneath the strict black wool of his coat. The top button of his shirt was undone, despite the cool air, and a healthy swathe of tanned skin gleamed there. The bulky wool of his coat couldn't quite hide the strength in his forearms, or the firm grip of the hand locked around her wrist.
It thrilled her dreki heart, the one that secretly longed to surrender to this man, even as she note
d the cold gleam in his eye.
Kissing him would be a mistake. She'd hurt him when she left him. She'd known she would. And she'd do it all over again, if only to protect him from the fate she'd bequeathed upon him the second she agreed to marry him.
Besides, she was starting to grow angry herself. She wanted this cuff off, and she wanted it off now.
"Others?" he demanded. "Well, they can have you when I'm done with you."
She tried to haul away from him, but it was like trying to move a mountain, despite her innate strength. Or maybe the cuff was sapping that too. "You don't know what you're facing. That storm hinted at three dreki on my heels. I intended to be back at court before they noticed I was missing, but now.... You're no match for dreki warriors, Haakon."
"Maybe I wasn't, once upon a time. But I'm not the man you once knew."
The sword at his hip and the easy way he carried himself hinted at that.
"They won't obey the treaty between human and dreki-kind if they think you've laid hands upon me," she warned.
His free hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his hip. "Then they're welcome to attempt to retake you."
Her teeth gnashed together. Stubborn, infuriating man! She'd almost forgotten how hard it was to change his mind once he'd set it upon something. "And your men? Are you so careless with their lives you would throw them away?"
Something flickered in the pale storminess of his eyes. "The men can find other lodgings. I'd prefer to keep this between the two of us anyway."
"All the better to interrogate me?"
He stared at her for a long second. "I just want answers. You're not getting free until I've got them, so you might as well concede now and spare yourself the indignity. The sooner I have what I want, the sooner you can return to your dreki cohort. We'll never have to see each other again."
Never? "You mean to let me go?"
His look held such utter contempt that all of her blood felt like it drained from her limbs, straight to her heart. "Why would I keep you? Once was enough."
Her heart stuttered to a halt, before kicking with furious intention.
Fine. She'd hurt him.
He wanted to hurt her back.
Árdís knew all about wounded pride.
And the lies one could tell oneself to protect a bruised heart.
"I'm sorry. I never meant—"
"Enough of this nonsense." His lip curled back off his teeth, and his temper flashed, igniting the steely gray of his eyes. Then he was moving, bending low and throwing her over his shoulder.
Árdís gasped as the world upended. "What are you doing?"
"What I should have done ten minutes ago," he growled, turning and making for the street and the inn across from it. "Don't think you're going to twist me around in circles with that wretchedly sharp tongue. Not this time. I am done playing your games. It's time you played mine."
Árdís's eyes narrowed. If he thought this was the end of it, he was sorely mistaken. "I've barely begun!"
Thank goodness there was no one in the street to see her. Árdís tried to clutch at the corner of the nearest building, but her fingers tore loose. Haakon strode like a man on a mission, as unstoppable as the tide.
Her heart was beating madly.
The inn door slammed open. Árdís caught a dizzying array of chairs and tables, and heard the screech of timber as a chair scraped back.
"Here, now," someone called. "What are you doing with the lady?"
"The lady is my wife," Haakon said. "And we are about to have a private discussion."
"He's kidnapping me!" Árdís yelled, slamming her fist on his backside. "You stupid, big oaf. Let me down."
"Your wife?" said the man's incredulous voice.
"Do you have a problem with that?" Haakon demanded.
Árdís caught a glimpse of the innkeeper, gaping at the pair of them as she pushed herself up, trying to right herself on Haakon's shoulder.
"Let him be," someone else said gruffly, and she saw a massive redheaded man nursing a tankard in the corner. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized Gunnar, one of Haakon's oldest friends—and the one man who'd never truly approved of her. "The girl stole something that belonged to him, and now he intends to get it back."
"I did not steal anything—"
"Certain about that?" Haakon demanded, and Árdís craned her neck to glare at him.
His heart.
If they were being specific.
Or perhaps their wedding ring.
The innkeeper scrubbed at his jaw. "If she is your wife, then I'm of a mind to grant you your privacy. But I'd like to hear it from the lady's lips myself, if you don't mind."
Finally. A man who hadn't lost all sense.
Haakon lowered her against his chest, until her toes almost brushed the floor. "Certainly." His eyes gleamed. "Why not tell the good innkeeper the truth. Are you my wife, Árdís?"
Her mouth opened. Then shut. Curse him. She was dreki. She could lie, but the consequences might be catastrophic. Words were power, and when one was created from raw Chaos magic itself, to breathe a lie might reshape the air around her.
If she said no, she wasn't his wife, she could cost Haakon his life, if her magic chose to interpret her words in such a way.
One of the very first laws dreki owned was to speak no word that wasn't true, or pay the price of it.
"Come," he taunted, clearly fully aware of her limitations, though it was doubtful he knew the why of it. "Tell the man the truth. I know you've only a limited acquaintance with it, but surely all you have to do is say 'yes' or 'no.'"
So be it.
"I am his wife," she told the innkeeper, giving in to fate.
"And he means you no harm?" the good man asked.
Árdís glanced up from beneath her lashes at her husband. "He means me no harm. He's not that sort of man," she said softly, for there was nothing else in this world she was certain of except for the nature of the man she had married. "He just wishes to... talk. We've been estranged."
They stared at each other, and Haakon seemed almost surprised, though a new wariness lingered in his expression.
Anger she could handle, but not the hint of pain she saw there, as if he fought to guard himself against her.
There was no point fighting this any longer. She needed to remove herself from town before her brethren tracked her down, and the only way she was going to get out of here swiftly was by succumbing to Haakon's wishes. Árdís gathered a handful of her skirts and strode toward the stairs. "Well?" She threw over her shoulder. "Are you coming?"
A glance toward Gunnar, and then Haakon nodded abruptly, following on her heels.
"Don't think I suddenly trust you," he whispered, as they entered the darkened stairwell.
His enormous presence loomed behind her. Despite everything, a thrill ran down her spine.
"I owe you answers, and I will give you what I can," she replied, suddenly weary of it all. "And then I must leave, before the others find me. And you will take this cursed bracelet off me. Agreed?"
"Agreed. This way." Haakon directed her toward a door.
It wasn't until they were inside the room, and the door clicked shut behind them, that she suddenly felt the weight of consequence weigh upon her. It was clear he'd been staying in this room for a while. All his belongings were packed neatly, but the very air smelled of him. A hunting knife and oiled stone rested on the table in the corner as if he'd been sharpening the blade that morning, and the enormous fur-lined cloak on the bed bore his scent.
The bed.
Her gaze narrowed in upon the rumpled blankets.
If there was one place where she'd ever felt both vulnerable and strangely secure, it was there. He was the first lover she'd ever taken, and a part of her suspected he'd be the last. She'd never been able to hide her true heart when she was in his arms.
A hand softened in the small of her back and she realized she'd faltered.
"We haven't got all day," she said, turning ar
ound and allowing him past her. Her skin shivered where he'd touched her. "Speak your questions. I assume you wish to know why I vanished."
Haakon ignored her, lighting the small candle on the table. "You might as well sit."
It was either the bed or the chair, and to get the chair she would have to pass him. Árdís gingerly settled on the edge of the bed, summoning all her pride in an attempt to guard herself. "Please. I need to leave."
Haakon blew the match out, glancing up at her through the thin wreath of smoke left behind. For a second she could barely breathe for the sudden sense of longing that swept through her.
"Why?" he asked softly. "That's all I want to know."
"Why I left you?"
His eyes glittered like pure ice. "Why you married me."
3
Why I married you?" she repeated softly.
Haakon straddled the chair backwards, resting his muscled forearms along the back of it, and rocking back until the front two legs left the ground. His eyes narrowed as he waited for her to speak.
"It's a simple question."
It wasn't a simple question at all. She found her feet, pacing toward the window, as far away from the bed as possible.
"Because you asked me to." The window was grimy. Árdís dragged the hem of her sleeve up over her palm and wiped a small circle in it so she could see the street outside. Nothing moved out there.
Yet.
The heels of the chair hit the ground.
"Árdís," he growled.
She took a deep breath. She was dreki. She could spin words into pure life, careful truths woven together like a tapestry. She could do this in such a way that he'd never truly see the truth behind her words.
"Do you remember the summer we first met?"
Gruffness filled his voice. "Of course."
Árdís closed her eyes, conjuring the memories behind her lids. "I was travelling the world, drinking in all these new places, all these new sights, when I flew north one stormy night. The wind blew me off course, and I'd been flying all day, trying to get clear of the cities. When I landed, I only ever intended to stay long enough to hunt and feed, but you came barreling around the corner"—into my life—"and.... I'd never met a man before. Not up close. I'd watched them from afar, curious about their lives. And there you were, trying terribly hard not to look at me. Bundling me into your cloak and offering to take me into your home." Her lashes fluttered open. It was too painful to look back at that night, when their lives had slammed into each other, changing the course of both their destinies.
