Storm of Desire

by Bec McMaster

  "I remember," he said softly. He hadn't known she was so young, or so inexperienced. She'd never been like the women he knew—she'd always been arrogant, and demanding, and capricious—and yet he could see the uncertainty in her eyes now.

  "You were the first man I'd ever kissed," she admitted. "And you were kind, and fascinating, and... I made up my mind I wanted to lie with you. I wanted you to be my first, my choice, but you had these ideas about marriage. In the dreki world, sometimes we mate for breeding purposes, and sometimes simply for the joy in taking a lover. But it is rare that two dreki promise each other forever, for we live such long lives." She looked away. "It was only afterward I realized that for you, marriage meant forever. And I could not give you forever."

  She bowed her head.

  Haakon couldn't breathe.

  "I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered. "I loved you. But I am dreki and you mortal, and I could hear the passing thunder of wings on the horizon as my mother's dreki hunted for me. I could hear them coming closer. Every day for that last year, I would watch the horizon. I knew lingering there meant offering you a death sentence, but I couldn't bring myself to leave. Just one more day in your arms, one more week..." She closed her eyes. "It was my younger cousin, Andri, who found me, thank all the gods. Of all the dreki, he's always been my ally, and he warned me the queen knew where I was. Sirius was coming for me, he said. I didn't dare linger."

  He didn't know what to say. "That last afternoon, you came to me."

  And we made love.

  She'd been frantic with need, dragging him into the barn, where she pushed him onto the straw and had her way with him. Once. Twice. Three times. She'd told him she loved him, but that hadn't been all she'd been saying. He realized it now.

  "I was saying goodbye," Árdís whispered. "And then it started raining. A dreki storm on the horizon. I knew I didn't have much time. I had to flee before they came looking for me and found you."

  "So you let me believe you'd been stolen away by a dreki?" he rasped, feeling the weight of all those years of guilt and grief. "I heard you scream. I saw it—you—fly away. Do you know what that felt like?"

  "It was the only way I could be certain you wouldn't follow me!" she cried desperately. "I wanted you to grieve for me. I wanted you to be free to live another life, to be free to marry again." The words sounded as though they were ripped from her. "And I hated that thought, but I didn't want you to be unhappy. You always wanted children. You wanted a wife, a home, and I could not give you that. So I tried to make it clear I was gone from your life. I never dreamed you'd not stop looking for me."

  "You were my wife," he said hoarsely. "I could never stop looking for you. Not when a chance you lived might exist."

  Tears flooded down her face. "I never wanted to hurt you."

  But you did. He stared at her with clenched fists.

  "Do you think it has been easy for me? To live such a life with you, and then to throw it all away out of fear? To bury myself in my mother's court and live a half-life, knowing what it could have been? I should never have left court the first time, for then I wouldn't understand what I have been missing." A breath tore through her. "And here I am again, dragging you back into my life. Putting you at risk. I shouldn't have asked you to help me. It's selfish."

  "That was my decision to make."

  "You don't understand. It's worse now, because I've dared to flee again. If she gets her hands on you—"

  "I'm aware of the risks," he snapped. "And it's my choice whether I take it. I would risk my very life for you—"

  "Well, I won't!"

  "Not even for a chance of happiness?" He stepped closer. "You don't know that she will capture us. You don't know she cannot be defeated." He went to his knees in front of her.

  "No!" Árdís shook her head desperately. "No. I won't allow it. I can't lose you. Not like that. I can face forever, knowing you lived a long and happy life. I could bear it, if only—"

  His mouth met hers, capturing the words, even as he claimed her face between his hands.

  Seven years he'd thought her gone. The loss had nearly broken him.

  But for Árdís, it had been a sacrifice she'd made, knowing he lived. A loss she could bear, as long as he drew breath out there somewhere.

  It didn't mean those seven years apart ached any less for her, but he finally understood what had driven her to such lengths. This had never been about not loving him. This had never been a dreki princess spurning her mortal lover.

  She'd loved him enough to sacrifice her happiness for him.

  And while it had hurt him just as much, she'd considered that pain a worthwhile sacrifice in exchange for his life.

  Haakon drew back from the heated kiss and pressed his lips to her forehead gently. He lifted his head, studying her heart-shaped face, with her burning dreki eyes. And he suddenly understood her.

  She'd lost two brothers and a father she adored. She'd been born into a brutal court, and when she'd finally fled, trying to spread her wings and discover who she was, her mother had threatened to break her world down around her. Árdís's every moment of existence had been that of a young dreki princess, trying to survive a hostile world without a single ally at her side.

  The only choice she'd ever made of her own desires, had been him.

  Árdís made a small choking sound in her throat. "I loved you," she whispered, as if she did not dare bring such an emotion into the present.

  Haakon's fingertips flexed on her jaw, as the words went through him like a spear.

  Their mouths clashed together, hot and furious. I loved you. The words rang in his ears. Righting something inside him. All he'd ever wanted to know was if it had been real.

  He had her in his arms, and a part of him shook badly, never wanting to let her go. But there were a pair of palms against his chest. An insistent pushing, even as her tongue flicked over his.

  They broke apart, both of them breathing hard. And he saw the doubt in her eyes, as she tried to open her mouth, to say the words that were clearly trapped there. Haakon pressed a finger to his lips. He didn't need her to say them. He could see it, shining wetly there. Árdís wanted him. She had loved him. Perhaps still did, even if she refused to admit it to herself.

  But.

  I can face forever, knowing you lived a long and happy life. I could bear it, if only....

  He closed his eyes, needing the moment to control himself, before he could look at her again.

  Nothing had changed. Not in her mind.

  Only in his.

  "One last night," he whispered, and felt the tension dissolve as she shuddered. This was the only way he could have her.

  Haakon slowly lowered his face to hers, kissing her ever so slowly, as if to savor the moment.

  If only....

  But all they had was this.

  For now.

  Amadea paced on the dais as her brother entered the room, nerves knotting her tight though she refused to show them.

  "Well?" she demanded.

  It had been days with no sign of Árdís. The girl couldn't have simply vanished.

  Stellan stepped aside as Lor hauled a human forward. At Stellan's signal, he sent the man sprawling at her feet.

  Amadea's glance dropped. This was no city urchin, but an older man wearing a handsome waistcoat, with one of those gleaming pocket watches humans used to tell the time. She knew little about the human world, but she recognized the expensive cut of his clothes, and the fine leather gloves he wore.

  Or they had been fine, before Stellan got his hands on the stranger.

  "This man is a jeweler from Reykjavik," Stellan said. "And he has an interesting tale to tell."

  The man shook as he looked up, and Stellan gave him a nudge with his boot.

  "Go on," he insisted. "Tell the queen what you told me."

  "I was paid," the man blurted. "To offer your daughter an emerald necklace as a gift."

  Stellan dragged the heavy web of emeralds from his po
cket, and held the necklace out to show her. "There was a psychic scent on them, but all I can feel is Árdís now."

  "A gift?" Amadea swept her skirts aside as she settled upon her throne. The emeralds glittered, capturing her attention for one long moment, before she forced herself to blink. "From who? For what purpose?"

  "I know not for what purpose," the man said, glancing furtively between all of them. "And a Norwegian man gave them to me, along with very strict instructions. He wanted me to tell her a gentleman had insisted upon them being a gift, and if she wished to know who, then he would be waiting for her at the Viking."

  A little flutter began in her abdomen. "Sirius mentioned she was there when he found her. Before she led him a chase through Reykjavik."

  Stellan's smile stretched over his mouth. "So I questioned the innkeeper too. I have a name. And it's a very curious name."

  "Who?" she breathed. Norway. That country just kept popping up when it came to Árdís.

  "Haakon Haraldsson."

  Amadea's breath caught. "I do not recognize it."

  "Nor do I." Stellan toyed with the emeralds, pouring them from one hand to the other. "But his men call him Dragonsbane. Haakon Dragonsbane. And the last time anyone saw Árdís, she was boarding his ship."

  17

  Dawn light broke over the small village as they crested the rise the next morning.

  Haakon's arms curled around Árdís, as she swayed in the saddle in front of him. She was still weak enough he didn't want her pitching off the back of Sleipnir before he could grab her. Occasionally her head would loll back against his chest, and he'd hear her breathing soften. He took an almost guilty pleasure in holding her while she slept, pressing his face to her hair to breathe in the scent of her.

  From the start he'd been holding her at bay, still mired in pain, but yesterday had changed everything.

  He'd wanted to hurt her when he traveled to Reykjavik, because she'd hurt him.

  He'd wanted to lock his heart away, and not let her in ever again, but it was clear she'd never truly left.

  She'd fled from him to save his life. She'd loved him.

  And today, when they finally got her bracelet off, she'd leave him again. To save his life.

  He didn't want to let her go.

  But that was not his choice to make.

  "We made camp barely a mile away," Árdís muttered, waking with a sleepy yawn. "We could have been here last night."

  "You needed the rest."

  And I wanted one last night with you.

  If he let himself, he'd want every single one of them.

  He let Sleipnir pick his way down the slope, and they wended their way along the faint track through the grass he guessed the locals called a road.

  There were few locals around. Haakon found a small boy, and gestured for him to feed the horses and mind them while he and Árdís saw to their business.

  "This way," Haakon muttered, taking Árdís by the hand, feeling dread twist his insides. She deserved to be free of the manacle, but he couldn't help feeling like he was losing her all over again.

  "We're nearly there," Árdís said breathlessly. "I can scarce believe it. A matter of moments and I will be free of this cursed manacle. Your debt to me is paid. And mine.... You know the truth now. I cannot give you back the ring, but I hope.... I hope the truth is enough."

  He didn't know if she realized how her hand pressed restlessly against the empty space between her breasts, searching for her missing ring, even as she said the words.

  "You will be free to go," she continued. "To live your life without guilt, and to live the life I'd hoped you would have."

  His heart rebelled. Is there no life where we could be together?

  But he swallowed his pride, and forced himself to ask, "And you?"

  "I don't know. I haven't thought about my future, beyond these next few days. I'll be safe with Rurik." She colored. "It frustrates me to know I've still been living the life my mother planned for me."

  "What sort of life would you desire, if it were your choice?"

  Their eyes met.

  You, said her expression.

  "I would live a life knowing you were safe," Árdís whispered. "That's all I want."

  It was all she would allow.

  He ground his teeth together. Nothing had changed. There was no point arguing with her.

  There are other ways, something whispered inside him. He couldn't force her to face her fears.

  All he could do was encourage her.

  "This way," he said, leading her to a small house at the end of the street that looked little more than a door cut into the side of a grassed hill.

  Rapping his knuckles sharply against the door, he waited. Runes had been carved into the timber at some point, and a goat bleated at him from the top of the grassed roof. The tiny village was barely more than a collection of houses atop a windswept knoll.

  "Do you think he's at home?"

  "He's at home." Haakon hammered on the door.

  "All right, all right. I heard you the first time," someone grumbled from within, and the sound of the door being unlocked echoed.

  The door jerked open, and a small man blinked up at them. He stood barely four and a half feet tall, with glittering golden eyes that seemed somewhat unnatural. The breadth of his shoulders, however, was wide, and his barrel chest showed a great deal of power. Tormund had challenged Dúrnir to an arm wrestle the last time they'd been here, and Dúrnir had won.

  "You," the svartálfar said flatly, blinking up at the pair of them. His eyes suddenly widened when he caught a glimpse of Árdís.

  The door came flying back at them, but Haakon shoved his boot in the gap before it could slam shut.

  "Dúrnir, is that any way to treat paying customers?"

  Dúrnir staggered backward as Haakon pushed through the door, gesturing Árdís inside.

  "I don't want your custom!" Dúrnir snapped, bracing himself against a small round table. He stared at Árdís as one would a snake. "Especially from her kind."

  "Relax, little man," she drawled. "I've already had breakfast."

  Dúrnir paled.

  Haakon gave his wife a long, steady look.

  "What?" she asked, her nostrils flaring. "This entire place stinks of bad magic. And the only reason I'm in this predicament is because this evil creature tricked you."

  "I thought it was my fault for being stupid enough to dabble with magic?"

  "You're not entirely forgiven," she said, with a sniff.

  "You see what you've done," he said to the dwarf. "My wife isn't impressed with the efforts I've gone to in order to win her back."

  "You married a dreki?" The words exploded out of Dúrnir, and he turned toward the kitchen. "Odin's balls. These humans and their insane ideas."

  Haakon tugged a small leather pouch from his belt, and followed Dúrnir, ducking beneath the arch of the doorway. Everything in this place was undersized, which made him feel like a giant in a house full of antiques. One wrong step and he'd obliterate something. A dead chicken hung over the sink, its blood filling the small copper washbasin. A burning stick of sage clouded the room, and the smoke settled near the ceiling, which meant his head was directly in the haze. Haakon waved a hand, his eyes stinging.

  He dropped the pouch on the table, letting it give a satisfying clink. "I have another task for you."

  "I don't want it."

  "That's too bad." He reached for Árdís's hand, lifting it up to reveal the shackle. "There's a slight problem with the bracelet."

  Dúrnir poured himself a drink of something that smelled vile. He drained half the cup, before setting the silver goblet back down with a clink, and placing both hands flat on the table. "You wanted something that could contain a dreki in her mortal flesh. It appears to be working perfectly."

  "The words of release don't work."

  Dúrnir shrugged, and settled into a chair, kicking his boots up on the table. "Not my problem."

  "I can make it yo
ur problem," Árdís muttered.

  Dúrnir eyed her warily. "No magic. No fangs." He forced a smile and waggled his fingers. "I wouldn't be making threats if I were you."

  Árdís rested her hands on the table and leaned over it to glare at him. "I'm not entirely powerless."

  A flash of Chaos green rolled through her eyes.

  Dúrnir yelped, and the chair toppled over as he twisted. He landed with a loud bang, disappearing behind the table.

  Haakon circled the table, grabbing the little man's hand and hauling him to his feet. "Are we done with the posturing?" He frowned. "You two don't even know each other. What's with this mortal enemies pact?"

  "I told you." Árdís's eyes narrowed. "Long ago, the svartálfar and the dreki went to war for this country."

  He didn't have to ask who'd won.

  "Long ago?"

  "Two thousand years or so," she replied dismissively.

  Haakon had been in the middle of brushing dirt off his hands, but he paused. "You mean to tell me you hate him because of a war that happened millennia before any of us even walked this land?"

  "We remember."

  "And so do we," Dúrnir shot back. "Never trust a dreki, with their arrogant and vicious natures."

  "Never trust the svartálfar," Árdís retorted. "With their wretched magic, and lying tongues. I told you this was a trick. He probably laughed himself silly the second you left this house."

  Haakon very, very badly needed a drink. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he considered the problem. "Can you remove the manacle?"

  "Give me one good reason why I should," Dúrnir said.

  Haakon opened his mouth, but Árdís beat him to it. "Because I have an entire court of dreki hunting for me. If you do not help us remove this manacle, then I shall sit here and wait for them. I'll even open the door and welcome them inside, and tell them you trapped a dreki princess into mortal flesh."

  Dúrnir paled.

  "You'll be compensated," Haakon said quickly, hefting the weight of his purse. "The sooner you work your magic, the sooner I haul her over my shoulder and take her out of here."

  "A very tempting offer." Dúrnir's eyes narrowed. "As much as I would like to say we have a deal, there is one slight problem. There's nothing wrong with the manacle. I cannot remove it, dreki. Only the one who placed it upon you can."