by Evie Byrne
“Eva.” He cleared his constricted throat, and as he did, he caught her scent. This was no ghost. The blood in his veins, which had grown cold and sluggish, woke and coursed through his body like the spring flood. He wanted to shout and jump and take her in his arms, but she was reserved, wary even, so he kept his hands to himself and gestured to the chair across from his. “Please come in. Would you like to sit?”
She accepted, shedding the heavy coat and hanging it over the back of her chair. The fur hat she transferred to her lap when she sat down. They sat knee to knee. Both averted their eyes. Eva plucked off her gloves.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee?”
“No thanks. Ivar said you’ve been sick. I mean, worse than when I left.”
“I’m better.” This was the time for words, eloquent words, and he had none at all. She was so contained. Not quite stone-faced, but nearly so. Growling with frustration, he gave up the stoic act. He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the mark on her palm. “I’ve missed you.”
Her fingers touched his cheek in a brief caress. “Really? I mean, I thought you’d regret marrying me.”
“No!” Now that he had her hand, he wasn’t going to let it go. “But you—you were the one who was railroaded. If you want—”
“I don’t. I mean, I don’t want out.” One corners of her mouth lifted, so her dimple flashed. He’d missed that dimple. “You have the goofiest look on your face.”
“Because you’ve come back. You’ve forgiven me?”
There was no “forgiven you for what?” She knew exactly what he was talking about, which meant she’d been thinking on it all this time.
Her smile faded, and along with it the dimple. “It hurt, you know. You said you’d back me, that you trusted me, but when I needed you, you weren’t there.”
“I know. I’ve thought about it a lot. The deal you made with the children, it went against my grain, and I couldn’t see it was for the best. I was being a dumb buck.”
Her brows went up. “A what?”
“Never mind. Point is, you were right, and I was wrong. And I’ll add, I did support you at the end. I gave all my people into your care.”
“True.” She studied him intently. “And I’m glad you didn’t leap on me when I walked in the door, demanding a report, but don’t you want to know how it went?”
“You got us everything we wanted—and more.” He knew it because he knew her. He could read it her eyes, see it in the set of her shoulders.
“I did, but how did you know?”
He closed his fingers around hers. “Because I put my trust in the right place.”
“Ah, the T word.” She traced her bite mark on his palm, avoiding his eyes. “I know I haven’t always been good, but knowing you has made me better. If we’re going to do this, I have one request.”
If we're going to do what, exactly? Will you really stay with me? Holding his breath, he closed his hand over hers. “Tell me.”
“Don’t make me prove myself to you over and over again. Please.” She lifted her dark eyes and let him see her fear, her vulnerability.
A deep chord sounded in his soul. “Come,” he said, drawing her onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, and she nestled her head on his shoulder. For the first time in a week, he felt whole. They both sighed. He reached up and stroked her silky hair. “On my honor and my name and my life, I swear you this threefold promise. I will never doubt you again.”
“Good. Like I said, it’s really hard to stay mad at you.” Her fingers played with the buttons on his shirt. “Do you want to know what happened with Alya?”
“Very much.”
“You married a genius, that’s what.” Her hand stilled, spread flat over his thumping heart. “I got great terms for us. There’s a lot, too much to tell all at once. We negotiated in Aspen! Can you believe it? His High Lord Faustin wanted to ski. That’s where I got these clothes.”
“You look like the dawn.” The world was slowing, draining of tension. All was well. His beautiful wife was nestled in his lap.
“The sheepskin reminded me of Nanook-wear.”
“Of what?”
“Never mind. You approve of the boots?”
“I approve,” he whispered, his brow against hers. It was suddenly hard to draw breath. He kissed her, very gently.
When he drew back she turned her face aside and said in a low voice, “Are you sure? Will they fit in here? Tell me the truth.”
“They’re perfect.” Cupping her face between his palms, he looked into her eyes. “You’re perfect. Stay with me. Stay with me always.”
Her eyes sparkled with tears, but her smile was so joyful that it took his breath away. They kissed again, long and slow, a kiss that spoke of many things. Reunion. Reassurance. Promises.
She shifted in his lap, so that she straddled him. Their kiss turned to pure fire. She broke off, panting. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips deep red. With a quirk of those ripe lips, she peeled off her sweater and threw it to the ground.
“Oh, but I forgot,” she said coyly. “I was telling you about Aspen.”
He looked down at her breasts nestled in their little lace cups, rising and falling in time with his own breath. “You are very cruel.”
“It’s called multitasking.” As she said this, she opened his belt buckle and untucked his shirt. “We can inspect and approve the foster families. The kids can come home for visits.” When he leaned forward to kiss the crest of each breast, and the sweet line of her throat, she said, “Are you listening?”
“Multitasking,” he grumbled. “What city vamp nonsense.” He slid his hands under her skirt, up her strong thighs. Underneath, she wore woolen, thigh-high stockings. Fascinating. He slid his fingers around their tops, savoring the texture of her skin. Her expression turned languid, and her lips parted with pleasure. “One of the things you’ll learn up here is that we’ve got lots of time. Lots of time for everything.”
Leaving the stockings behind, he traced one hand over her skin, up the softest part of her thigh, and stroked the scrap of silk that covered her heat. It was soaked through. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, but she managed to say, faintly. “We’ve got a controlling share in the contraceptive—oh, fuck it.”
Triumphant, he passed his fingers beneath that flimsy barrier to cup her and stroke her hot, slippery flesh. As he did, he nipped at her mouth, catching her gasping breaths as they came.
“Wat—” Her hand slipped around his cock. His fingers faltered. She was shaking. “Now.”
She shifted her weight, and he slid home. For a moment he was speechless. Brainless. They were joined. He knew he was grinning like an idiot. “We’re married.”
“Damned straight.” With a wicked smile, she took hold of the chair, leaned back, found the perfect angle between them, and started to move her hips in indescribably pleasurable ways. His eyes rolled back in his head. Under his hands, the muscles in her thighs tensed rhythmically as she rode him. Opening his eyes to slits he watched the sinuous roll of her belly, the hypnotic swing of her hair, the dark fires kindling in her eyes.
“I feel like I should do something,” he said. “But I can’t imagine what would make this better.”
“You’ve been sick. This one is on me.”
He did a few things, in the end. He freed her breasts from their lace cages and mouthed the sweat from her body. He thrust with her when her dance faltered, when all she could do was curse and cry out with pleasure. And at the end he shouted along with her, loud enough to shake the dust from the rafters. The whole time, the bedroom door stood wide open. Likely the dogs were howling along outside. He didn’t care. He only knew it was a fine thing to be husband to a shameless sudrmadr woman.
And after, he carried her to his big feather bed, stripped them both naked, and showed her he had some tricks of his own.
And as the dawn came, he held her in his arms and finally heard the whole story of Aspen.
Springtime
Ev
a crossed the village in search of Wat. The air smelled green, sweet—burgeoning, even. She spread her arms wide and breathed deeply. She couldn’t get enough of spring, despite the bugs.
The door to the telephone hut stood open, and a warm rectangle of light spilled across the lush grass and purple catsfoot. It looked like a welcome mat. Inside, she saw her fiend Signy sitting at the little table within, knitting while she talked to her daughter on the satphone. Her daughter was fifteen and learning to surf by moonlight in La Jolla. Eva waved and passed on.
There was a sort of bog not too far east of the parking lot, and that’s where she found Wat and his students. She whispered in his ear. “Quitting time. Come scrub my back for me.”
He turned to look at her and smiled. “Isn’t it too warm to wear that?”
She was wearing the hat he’d made for her out of the fox that had saved her life. The fox's tail had been incorporated into a magic-totem thingy that hung in their bedroom. “I love my hat, and it’s not exactly balmy here yet. Now, get rid of those kids.”
Wat whistled and shouted. “Last exercise. You’ve got thirty seconds to disappear, and then Eva’s going to come looking for you. Begin now.”
To keep it fair, he kissed her so she didn’t see their first class of five fosterlings creeping awkwardly around the bog on their bellies, trying to camouflage themselves under reeds and muck. When time was up, Wat said, “Let’s give them a few more seconds.”
“How generous.”
Once she got around to searching, it didn’t take long for her to find them. They were all smart—they’d competed to be fosterlings—but compared to Northwoods kids, they lived in their heads. They didn’t have much physical awareness—not yet, at least. She found two because they’d simply forgotten to hide their feet.
“Better,” Wat said as they stood in a ragged line in front of him, stinking and dripping with mud and wearing odd hats covered with water weeds. “That’s a good headpiece you made there, Josh. The rest of you take note of its shape.” After a few more words he dismissed them to their host families—and, hopefully, to their baths.
As she and Wat walked back to the house, Wat noticed the smoke rising from the sauna’s chimney. “You lit the fire ahead of time.”
“I’m learning. It should be hot by now.”
They left their muddy boots on the porch, stepped into the warm outer room, and shucked their clothes. Wat drew hot water from the reservoir attached to the stove. Eva handed him soap and sponge. He began to wash her back.
“It amazes me how those kids adore you, even though you make them do such horrible things.”
“That’s why they like me. No one has ever asked much of them before. They’re amazed by what they can do, and they give me credit for it.” His soap-slicked hands lingered on her breasts, and then coasted over her belly. “I’m sure we’ll butt heads later.”
“There’s a letter for you from Gun.”
“Ah?”
“You have to tell me what he says. I worry about him. I would never have chosen that family for him.”
“Ivar will take care of him.”
“But Ivar never writes or calls.”
"I'm sure he has his hands full."
She turned and claimed the sponge. To reach all of Wat’s parts, she’d learned, it helped to stand on the little scrubbing stool. She squeezed the sponge and sent water coursing over his body, down the long length of him, to drain through the slatted floor. Then she set to work on the swamp muck crusting his neck. One of her favorite things in the world was scrubbing Wat, mostly because he made happy little grunts as she did it.
“You spent a lot of time in the phone hut today,” he said.
“I spent forever in there. I swear, half that time I was talking to Mama—she’s excited about their visit and obsessed with packing. I had to convince her that wearing heels isn’t a good idea around here, and that most likely she and my father won’t need snow gear in May, and that yes, we have towels and washcloths and even sheets, so she doesn’t need to bring her own, Does she think I wash my face with squirrel skins? I swear to god. Anyway, the rest of the time, I was talking with the lawyers. I’m pleased to announce that Freyja Pharmaceuticals was born today. It’s a real company now.”
“Congratulations.” He pulled her close and their bodies slid together in intriguing ways. “Is the Council satisfied?”
“So far. The next battle will be price point. You know Alya will want to jack it sky-high, and the Council will want to offer it at cost. Which is almost as ridiculous. But that’s all for later.” She picked up the bucket of clean water and doused him. He filled another and rinsed her in turn.
Then it was sauna time. Her favorite time.
They walked into the inner room. The heat instantly deboned her, and she fell onto one of the two benches. Wat threw fragrant herbs on the rocks and then poured a ladleful of water over them. She breathed in the resulting steam and sighed with contentment. In the winter months, she’d learned there were only two places where she was truly warm: Wat’s bed and the sauna. But she’d found that even with the warmer weather of spring, she still craved the heat.
Wat sat down next to her. She put her feet up on the bench and rested her head on his knee. He put his hand on the crown of her head, and they sat quietly for a long while, letting the tensions of the night slip away.
“Are you happy, my love?” he said, breaking the silence.
“Very.”
She knew he worried that she missed her world. What he didn’t understand—couldn’t understand, because he was too modest—was that as much as she loved hot showers and walking on the beach, she loved him more. And while she’d snack on a human whenever she had a chance, reindeer blood was pretty good—and she certainly didn’t miss juggling her stable of feeders. Wat was the only lover she wanted or needed. She was content in Brunnrheim, more than she could ever have imagined.
“That’s well,” he said. “Sometimes I worry that I’m too crusty and set in my ways to be good husband.”
Lifting a lazy hand, she caressed his chin. “Bullshit, Wat. You were born to be a husband.”
About the Author
Evie Byrne, an artist by training, has found her true love in writing. She lives in Los Angeles with a husband, a few chickens, and three very spoiled cats.
Also by Evie Byrne:
The Faustin Brothers novellas:
Called by Blood
Bound by Blood
Damned by Blood
and
Dante's Inferno
www.eviebyrne.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Author's Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Springtime
About the Author
Also by Evie Byrne
