Storm of Desire

by Bec McMaster

  She had the terrible suspicion she was going to discover where it was certain dreki vanished to. She found her feet, her knees bruised. There was no way in Hel she was going to greet her death on her knees. Not for him. Nor for his bastard of a father.

  "Do you need any help, my lord?" one of the guards asked, peering around Sirius with a leering quality to his gaze.

  "I can handle this," Sirius said coldly.

  "Are you certain—"

  "Certain." He slammed the door in the guard's face and turned toward her. "Let me make one thing very clear. Your life is mine, right now—"

  "Then take it," she declared, lifting her chin and meeting his eyes. "For I won't betray my princess, even if I had any idea of where she'd gone. Though I don't blame her for leaving. What sane woman would ever mate with you?"

  If anything, his alpine blue eyes narrowed to slits. He glided toward her, the menace radiating off him and sucking the heat from the air. All dreki had some power over the elements, though their abilities varied. Sirius was pure frost, brought to life in dreki form. A demon of ice, who cared for nothing and no one. Malin trembled, but she wouldn't step back.

  She would not cower.

  Even as her breath began to fog in the suddenly frigid cell.

  "If you don't tell me what you know, then you're condemning Árdís to death—or something worse," he said, his hand coming up to grip her throat.

  "Why should you care? And what's worse than being sentenced to a life as your mate?"

  He held her there, but the grip was not harsh. No. She almost thought he flinched. Once again his thumb made that odd stroking gesture it had in the throne room. Malin gasped as the prince's face lowered toward her, so she could hear his whisper. "I'm trying to help you survive this," he hissed under his breath. "Why are you making this so difficult?"

  "Why should I not make this difficult?" She grabbed a fistful of his shirt, trying to gain her balance. "You call me a 'nobody' but I'm a woman with my own hopes and dreams, and I'll be damned if I'll go down without a fight."

  The entire court looked at her as if she were filth. Only Árdís had never pitied her for the lack of the ability to shift, and to fly. Only Árdís had ever treated her as if she were an equal.

  "I will never, ever," she snarled, "reveal a single one of Árdís's secrets."

  Sirius glared at her, and it was only then she felt some trace of heat radiating off him. Her fist clenched in his shirt, and her knuckles brushed against his chest. His skin was warm against her fingers, and his thighs crushed her skirts. It left her feeling remarkably off-balance, in more ways than one.

  "You care for her." He sounded surprised.

  "She's my princess, my hope." Malin shivered, for the way he was looking at her was not at all the way he usually did, as if she were some insect to be crushed beneath his boot. "She's the only true heir left in this rotten court, and when her people rise, they'll crush you and the cursed blight of your family from existence."

  Dark lashes fluttered down to hide his eyes, and his mouth softened. "Careful sweetheart," he murmured. "You're starting to talk about rebellion, and if my father catches a glimpse of it, he'll crush every bone in your body to discover the truth."

  "What little is left of me," she whispered, finally feeling the nerves bubble up within her, "once you're done with me."

  The Blackfrost was not the sort of dreki one denied. Sirius lurked in the shadows, as his father's personal assassin.

  Or so it was said.

  "I'm not going to hurt you."

  That hand softened, and slid around to cup the back of her neck. Suddenly Malin was clinging to him in truth, to avoid falling flat on her backside.

  Her heart started beating a little faster.

  None of this was going the way she'd expected.

  "No? You heard what your father said. And if he thought you were harboring a traitor, he'd string you up beside me. Why should you care?"

  Sirius glanced behind him, and she knew he could sense the heartbeat pulsing beyond the door. Dreki ears were sharp, but their words were barely a whisper. Even so, he leaned closer, breathing in her ear. "Because you don't have to tell me Árdís's secrets. I know she left last night, using the southern cellars that lead to the servant's portal. I know she's going after her mortal husband. I was there. I let her go."

  Malin staggered back as he released her.

  Splayed against the cell wall, she stared at him. He'd let the princess go? "You're lying."

  "You know I'm not."

  A silky whisper.

  He knew too much about the princess's plans... Or had Stellan's spies seen the princess leave, and Sirius was using that information to trick her? No. Dreki couldn't lie, which meant he had to be telling the truth.

  "Why?" Malin whispered.

  Sirius glanced again at the door, and she gained the impression she wasn't the only one keeping secrets. Again he loomed closer, resting one hand flat against the cell wall beside her face. Her body tightened as he leaned closer, but it was only to brush his lips against her ear. "Because I did not wish to mate with her, nor her with me. It seemed the only way to avoid the situation. But I think it wise if we both keep our voices down. My father wouldn't appreciate knowing I allowed Árdís to leave. If you cannot trust me, then trust that. You hold this secret over my head."

  Malin could barely breathe. She turned her face to the side, and her lips almost brushed against his stubble. None of this made any sense, and her heart pounded as she sought to work her way through it all.

  Could she trust him?

  The Blackfrost?

  "I just need to know where she's going," he said. "That's all. And I shall take you with me. If you help me, then I shall set you free."

  "You're going to bring her back," she blurted.

  His lips thinned, as he drew back fractionally, just enough to look into her eyes. "I like this little more than you do, however, I'm running out of cards to play. This has not gone as expected. I need the princess back, and I'll mate her if forced to do so. Or would you prefer that Roar finds her first? Neither of us wants him named as heir."

  He had a point.

  He also had to be playing some sort of game. But what? He'd given her his secret, after all, one that could see him torn apart by his brethren if they knew he'd had a hand in Árdís's disappearance.

  If she couldn't entirely be certain she could trust him, then at least she had something to hold over his head. And she needed to help Árdís. The princess couldn't escape an entire hunting party of dreki males intent on claiming her for Roar. The stakes had changed.

  "There's only one place for the princess to flee to," Malin said, her heart trembling at the choice she was making. "Only one place she's safe from those who might follow."

  The prince's pale blue eyes raced. His face suddenly paled.

  "Rurik."

  "Yes," Malin breathed, feeling like a traitor in her bones. "She's going to find her brother, Rurik."

  9

  The first problem occurred before they'd even mounted.

  Árdís captured the reins of Gunnar's chestnut and tried to swing her foot into the stirrup, but the mare was having none of it. She snorted and sidled to the side, her eyes rolling. Árdís was knocked off balance, and the mare nearly bolted.

  Haakon caught the bridle with a grimace.

  "It's the smell," Gunnar said, and spat on the docks as he folded his arms across his enormous barrel chest. "Hela knows the girl isn't human."

  Out of all of his men's horses, Hela was the calmest. Usually. Haakon ground his teeth together.

  "Fine. You can ride Snorri," Haakon snapped, tugging the fat little baggage pony they had forward. Snorri dug his heels in and extended his neck as far as it would go in protest, until he was practically dragging him across the cobbles. "We can reassemble the bags."

  "I am not riding that thing," Árdís said, echoing Gunnar's stance. "It looks like a carpetbag with legs. And it hates me. Look at it glaring a
t me with those beady little eyes. I don't trust it not to dump me in the mud. Or bite me."

  "Then bite him back. You seem to have a fondness for such a thing," Haakon said, through his teeth. "Snorri is bred for this terrain. And we're running out of choices. Unless you'd prefer to walk?"

  "Then you ride him," Árdís said, crossing to Sleipnir's side. "And I will ride your mighty steed, who seems to like me better."

  Sleipnir snorted, his eyes rolling toward her, but he was an ex-cavalry mount. He'd been trained to ride right into gunfire and not flinch. Or directly at a dragon, come to think of it. And while he might not precisely like the idea of Árdís sitting on his back, he was clearly not about to suffer a fit of vapors like the rest of the horses.

  That wouldn't be at all manly, and the stallion had a reputation to protect.

  Haakon's eyes narrowed. Traitor. He already wanted to tear his hair out. "Gunnar, you might as well remove Hela's tack. Take her with you. She's going to be useless."

  "I don't think I like the idea of you riding off alone with her," Gunnar muttered.

  "Yes, but a pair of riders is going to attract less attention than a handful of dragon hunters. None of us look like farmers or merchants," Tormund said quickly, slapping Gunnar on the shoulder. His fingers locked there, as if to restrain the man. "This isn't going to end in a fight, if Haakon uses his wits. He knows what he's doing. And one or more riders at his side isn't going to be able to drive a dreki away. We'd need the entire company and the ballista for that, and we might as well burn a massive beacon and drag it along behind us."

  Haakon ground his teeth together and glared at his cousin. I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing.

  Tormund flashed a quick smile. Then waggled his eyebrows up and down.

  Curse him. This wasn't going to go the way Tormund expected.

  The next few days stretched in front of him.

  Alone. With Árdís.

  And the nights....

  Pure bloody torture.

  And now she insisted she wasn't going to ride the baggage pony?

  Tethering the reluctant pony to Sleipnir, he shifted his saddlebags, relocating some of the straps. This was not a major problem. He could work out a solution. His willpower wasn't going to fail at the thought of having her in his arms.

  "So you are going to ride the carpetbag?" Árdís looked brightened by the prospect.

  If Sleipnir could handle this, then so could he. It was just a few days in close proximity to her.

  She was the one who'd be getting a sore backside.

  "No," Haakon snapped, swinging up into the saddle and adjusting his seat as the stallion danced. His sword and crossbow were going to be a problem, but he could manage. "You're going to board the ship while I ride out of Reykjavik alone, just in case anyone is watching. I'll meet you five miles north of the town, where Tormund can row you ashore. Then you can ride behind me."

  He nudged Sleipnir forward, nodding at Tormund. "Make a fuss out of taking her aboard. Make sure she's seen, so if anyone comes offering gold around, they'll happily say she boarded a ship. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

  "See?" Tormund said, offering Árdís his arm. "Your husband is a strategic man. You'll be safe with him."

  Haakon met her eyes as he reined Sleipnir in a tight circle.

  Who was going to protect him from her?

  It swiftly became clear Árdís had few allies aboard the ship.

  Marek had vanished inside Haakon's cabin, and sought the bed, proving Haakon's assessment of his condition correct. Most of the men ignored her, a few gave her curious looks, but Gunnar outright scowled.

  "Stay there," he snapped, pointing to what he called the bow of the ship. "And don't move. Don't speak. Don't get in the way."

  Then he turned and strode away.

  "Have I done something to offend you?" she called.

  Gunnar paused in mid-step. "Did you not hear me?"

  "I think the not speaking rule is a trifle overwhelming." And she had her pride, after all. She was dreki.

  He turned on her. "I've spent the last seven years at Haakon's side, hunting for you. He never gave up hope, until last month when your brother told him the truth of your deception. He went mad. Tore apart his room, shattered furniture like it was made from sticks. We had to chain him up for days, so he wouldn't mount an armed assault on your dreki court by himself. You did that to him. Men died because of your lies. I've lost good friends to dragons’ teeth because you decided to toy with Haakon's heart on a fucking whim."

  She was taken aback. "It wasn't a whim," she said softly.

  "That's enough, Gunnar."

  Tormund. The only one who seemed to be on her side. The bearded giant stepped between them, twitching a brow at Gunnar. "And it's not entirely true. Bjorn, Gunnar, and I are here for Haakon, but the others like the scent of gold. Dragon gold. Those men that died knew the risks when they signed on, and they chose to attack a dangerous beast because of their greed. Lay what you want at her feet, Gunnar. But not that."

  Gunnar's face turned red. He didn't appear to be breathing. Without another word he turned around and stomped away.

  "Thank you." Árdís eyed the large man. She remembered his face. "You're Haakon's cousin. You were there, at the...."

  "Wedding?" He cocked a brow. "Can't say it, Princess?"

  She turned to stare out at the waves primly. "It's just a word."

  "Aye." He leaned on the rail at her side and grinned at her. A handsome man who towered over all the others, his beard was several shades darker than his long hair. Brown eyes twinkled at her. "I was there at the wedding. I'm surprised you remember me. The pair of you barely took your eyes off each other. You danced all night in Haakon's arms, and you smiled at him like you'd just discovered an entire hoard of precious gems nobody had seen for centuries. Brunhild was certain you'd give her grandchildren a mere nine months later. It's the only time I've ever refused to accept a bet."

  Children. Always children. Her hands tightened on the rail. "You don't seem to despise me like the others do."

  "Gunnar's only mad because he owes me fifty kroner."

  She'd felt the truth vibrating in Gunnar's words. "No. He hates me for what I've done to Haakon. But you don't."

  "That's because I'm smarter than Gunnar." Tormund made a muffled grunting sound, and scratched his beard. "My mother said there's always a reason for the choices people make. I told you. I remember that wedding. You were so in love with Haakon you could barely see anyone else. Your choice to leave him makes no sense to me." He turned his head to look at her, and she realized she wasn't fooling this man at all. "If Haakon could see straight right now, he might realize that. You loved him. And then you left him. And I don't think you've told anyone the reason why. And there is a reason. I'll wager you fifty kroner—no, I'll wager you a handful of emeralds—that something else drove you from his side."

  "You don't have a handful of emeralds."

  "No, but you do." His smile widened. "And I'm not going to lose this wager, am I, Princess?"

  The rowboat rocked as Tormund heaved against the oars, salty spray splashing over Árdís's lips. She watched the ship grow smaller, feeling a little nervous. Every delay narrowed her chances of escaping.

  Claus would have been found by now.

  Her rooms would have been searched, and Malin discovered.

  No doubt her mother had sent her dreki guards into the sky. Árdís had seen no sign of wings on the horizon, but she had no doubt they were out there. Somewhere.

  "Nearly there," Tormund promised, as they began to crest the breakers closer to shore. "I'll keep an eye on your servant for you."

  "Thank you."

  She turned to face the bay. A solitary figure waited on the beach, the fur-lined cloak on his shoulders flapping around his calves. Cliffs lined the bay, and in the distance snow-capped mountains gleamed.

  For a second she let her gaze rove over him, and she didn't bother to hide the feelings inside her when
she did.

  Haakon.

  Once upon a time, he'd been all she'd ever wanted.

  And it hadn't simply been lust, though that was tangled in the mix of emotions inside her. No. There was so much more. And she'd never even realized it until the night of their wedding, when he'd finally made love to her, and they'd lain in each other's arms, spent and panting.

  Being in his arms felt like home in a way the court had never been. She belonged there. Nothing could touch her when Haakon was there. No one could ever hurt her. All she'd ever felt was happiness.

  Until her mother's shadow began to brush against the edges of her little world.

  Árdís sighed as Haakon made his way down the beach toward them. She was no longer welcome in his arms.

  He strode into the foamy surf, helping to haul the boat in closer. The sharp cut of his cheekbones looked particularly foreboding, and his eyes glittered with ice as he looked at them. "You're late."

  "The winds weren't in our favor," Tormund called. "And you're welcome."

  It took her a second to compose herself, when Haakon turned that hot-eyed stare upon her. It always did. But Árdís had spent years playing her court-appointed role. He wouldn't see the longing in her eyes. Or the vulnerability in her heart.

  She'd make sure of it.

  "Ready?" He held the boat steady and gestured to the foot of water surrounding them with his other hand.

  Árdís clambered to her feet, swaying as the waves rocked the boat. In the past, he'd have never demanded this. He'd have carried her, so she wouldn't get her boots wet.

  But that man was long buried beneath this imposing half-stranger.

  And she'd be damned if she'd give him the pleasure of seeing her falter.

  Grabbing a fistful of her skirts, she tried to plant her boot on the edge of the boat. Haakon offered her a hand to help her, at least, but as she shifted her weight forward the boat suddenly rocked and she found herself thrown forward with a squeal.

  Hard arms locked around her, and Árdís slammed against Haakon's chest as he caught her.

  A soft curse broke from him as her breasts pressed against his face. Her arms locked around the back of his heavily muscled neck automatically, and for a second, she inhaled the scent of warm, clean male.