Embrace of the Damned

by Bast, Anya

  “I know.” He carried her through the darkened house to her room and laid her onto the mattress.

  She adjusted herself and lay back into the pillows. “I feel like an invalid,” she muttered.

  He leaned over her, with an arm on either side of her. “It was an excuse to hold you.”

  Jessa went very still, staring into his eyes from an inch away. There was a ring of gold around her dark brown pupils. “Okay.” Her voice came out a little breathless.

  “Thank you for tonight.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. He wanted more, so much more. Clenching his fist, he contented himself with slipping his tongue into her mouth and easing it up against hers. Her body tightened and her breathing quickened. If he pressed her back into the pillows and demanded more, she would probably give it to him.

  Instead he eased back. “Rest now,” he murmured, his voice rough from his lust.

  “Broder, what does a witch taste like?” she murmured sleepily.

  He held her gaze for a long moment before answering. “Most witches taste like peppermint and roses, but you taste like the future I want.”

  Her drowsy eyes opened wider and she started to say something, but he turned and strode from the room before she had a chance.

  “Bring your elbow back, pivot, and punch straight out. It’s like a dance.”

  Jessa turned on the ball of one foot, pulling her elbow back and then punching as Broder had instructed. The tip of the wooden training dagger she held thumped him in the chest, but it was like hitting a heavy sandbag; Broder didn’t even feel it. She was feeling it … in every muscle she possessed. The last week had been a flurry of training, every day from morning until night.

  Occasionally Erik stepped in to demand a break for her. She was thankful for his intervention since Broder was such a slave driver. It was as if Broder felt like he was fighting for her life through her training. In actuality, he probably was. And she was fighting for her life by learning how to defend herself. It was for this reason she never complained or asked for a break, no matter that she was still recovering from her ordeal with the demon and became tired more easily than usual.

  Broder had given her his dagger, which was why she now trained with a wooden one. She’d protested, knowing that Loki would disapprove and she didn’t want Broder to get into trouble, but she couldn’t dissuade him of the gift no matter how hard she tried. She kept it sheathed and with her at all times, sometimes wearing it at the small of her back just as Broder did.

  Since the attack, Broder had been as hands-off with her as he possibly could be. She’d noticed his reluctance to touch her and was trying very hard not to take it personally. Before the demon attack, he’d pushed her hard in this regard, trying his best to tempt her into bed with him, so the change was odd.

  Maybe he’d been turned off by her near-death experience. It certainly wasn’t because he feared her fragility. After all, he wouldn’t be forcing the training issue so hard if that were the case.

  Recently they’d begun training with swords as well. Since one effective way for a human—or seidhr or Valkyrie—to kill a demon was to lop off its head, it made sense that this was a common weapon for the non-Brotherhood to use. She was growing proficient with it, though a Loki dagger was the best weapon. The dagger required no special aim; it was just poke and explode. Pretty simple, really. The only downside was how close you had to get to the target. No one wanted to be that close to a demon.

  Jessa executed a perfect roundhouse kick for Broder, just the way Halla had taught her. He took a step back and looked impressed.

  “Okay,” he said, beginning to circle her in a crouched position that made her think of a wolf circling its prey. “It’s time.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Time for what?”

  “Time for you to show me what you’ve got.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He motioned to her with his fingers curling toward him. “I mean, attack me. Let loose. Try to hurt me.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t. You can’t. So don’t worry about it. Don’t think about who I am, just try and hurt me.” He jerked his chin at the blunt training sword resting against the wall. “Take my head off, Jessa.”

  She looked from him to the sword, remembered he was a member of the Brotherhood of the Damned and was as close to indestructible as one could get, and went for the training sword on the wall. The moment her hand touched the smooth, cool metal of the handle, Broder was behind her, lunging. She whirled around, bringing the sword up and impacting his torso with a solid thump.

  Broder grunted and backed off, favoring his rib cage. She’d hit him hard, but, hell, he’d invited her to do it.

  A moment later and he was stalking her again. Her heart rate ratcheted skyward at the look on his face. He was definitely in the zone, provoking her to attack him out of fear. If this was the way he looked to the Blight, she wasn’t sure why they didn’t just curl up and die right on the spot.

  With a nearly animalistic snarl, he lunged for her. She kicked him in the chest, pushing him back with the flat of her boot, grunting and using every ounce of her muscle to do it. It hardly deterred him. He was on her again, gripping her from behind. Real panic filled her. Even though it was Broder mock-attacking her, it still made all her survival instincts flare to life.

  From a place of pure impulse, she punched backward with her elbow, hitting his solar plexus. His grip loosened and she pivoted, sword swinging wide in one hand, bringing the heel of her other hand up toward his nose—and pulling back only at the very last second. She followed the move by bringing the sword around and thumping him soundly in the throat.

  Broder stepped back and opened his arms. He smiled widely and purely for the first time since she’d met him. This wasn’t a grin, not a smirk—it was a full-on, dazzling smile. His dimples popped and she nearly dropped her sword in surprise. “You just killed me. Good job.” He was bleeding from the corner of his mouth and one nostril, and she’d ripped his shirt … but he was still smiling.

  Apparently the only way to make Broder happy was to inflict bodily harm upon him.

  She tried to calm her exerted breathing while looking pointedly away from the rip in his T-shirt that revealed a swath of nicely rippled, muscled chest. “Thanks … I guess.”

  He walked away from her, pulling his T-shirt over his head and using it to wipe his face. Oh, that so didn’t help. Now there was an even wider swath of muscular chest for her to attempt to not look at.

  Swallowing hard, she walked over to replace the sword only to find herself hefted in strong arms. She squealed and thrashed, all the memories of her recent attack rushing to the forefront of her mind and igniting a rush of panic. She knew it was Broder who’d grabbed her, but, again, she couldn’t help the brutal survival response that ensued. She fought back with everything she had.

  Her heel connected with Broder’s shin hard enough to break a human man’s bone. He released her, but she wasn’t done yet. She dropped to the floor and rotated, kicking up high and catching him in the cheek, making his head whip to the side. While his face was turned away, she jumped on him, landing a punch to the kidneys that made him grunt.

  He collapsed and she went with him, punching him again and again. It was the demon all over again, except this time she was winning. It felt good.

  Broder rolled over and pinned her down, telling her to calm down.

  She relaxed, going limp, and a rush of regret filled her immediately. She’d cut his cheek in her panicked frenzy and probably inflicted many other injuries. “I’m sorry, Broder.”

  “Don’t be sorry. That’s exactly what I wanted to see from you. I surprised you on purpose and you reacted well.”

  They stared at each other in silence for a long moment in which she became acutely aware of his naked upper torso and how close it was to her.

  “You and Halla have taught me well.” She
tried to make her voice come out steady, but it was hard with him so close to her. “Thank you.”

  “It probably had a little to do with your attack, too. You’re leaner and meaner now, not as ready to take anyone’s shit.”

  “Maybe.”

  Broder stayed on top of her, though their conversation had ended. He seemed pretty happy to be touching her right now. Wow, she was getting some pretty mixed signals. Did he want her or not?

  “Er, Broder? Is there some reason you’re still on top of me?”

  The haze in his eyes seemed to clear and he rolled away from her. She pushed up, watching with interest the flex of his arms as he pushed to his feet.

  “Good work today,” he said brusquely, then strode from the room.

  Frowning, she stood and followed him through the living room and up the staircase. He was moving so fast, she practically had to run. Right before he went into his bedroom, she caught up to him, laying a hand on his bare upper arm to stop him, then snatching it away as though his skin burned her. Touching him was not a good move; she could still remember the way his body had pressed against hers only minutes before.

  “Broder, are you all right?”

  He stopped near the entrance of his room, but didn’t turn to face her. “I’m okay.”

  “Really? Then why are you literally running away from me?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment, but she noticed him make fists at his sides. “I’m trying to honor your wishes, but it’s hard for me not to touch you.”

  She reached out to place her hand on his arm, hesitated and pulled back a little, then went ahead and did it anyway. Warmth radiated into her palm and she could feel the pulse of his heartbeat through the blood in his veins. It seemed to speed up as she rested her hand on him, and the knowledge that she’d affected him in even such a small way thrilled her.

  “Don’t touch me,” he growled.

  “Why not?” Her voice came out shaky. The tone of his voice had become low, rough, and very, very serious. Suddenly it was as though she were baiting a feral animal. Not smart.

  He moved so fast she nearly screamed. One second he was standing with his back to her, the next he had her pinned against the wall. It all happened before she could draw a surprised breath. “Because it makes me do things like this.”

  Her breath left her slowly as she steadied her nerves. “Okay. What’s wrong with this?”

  “Because it’s close to this.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and studied it hard. A moment later his lips touched hers.

  She melted against him, making a shamelessly hungry sound, and pressed her mouth more firmly against his. His hand found the back of her neck and he pulled her against his chest with his other arm, half lifting her, half guiding her into his bedroom and slamming the door closed with his foot.

  “And then, this,” he growled against her mouth. “You’re in my bedroom. Now what will you do?”

  He released her and she stumbled backward, feeling dazed. Her entire body hummed with excitement from his touch and wanted more. She glanced around, seeing tables, chairs, a wardrobe, and a bed.

  Okay, mostly she saw the bed.

  “I tried to do as you wished, leave you alone,” he said, walking toward her. “Even though every time I looked at you, I felt need burn through my body.”

  Oh, hell, was it getting hot in here?

  “Then Halla left and I was forced to train you.” He paused, cocking his head to the side and sweeping his gaze over her. He seemed to unclothe her with merely a look. “Do you know how hard that was for me? I haven’t been with a woman for well over a thousand years.”

  Well over? That was interesting. She wondered what situation he’d been in before Loki that had rendered such a virile Viking without woman.

  “Then I am handed a woman who seems fashioned for me by the hand of the goddess Freyja herself. Some days I wonder if you weren’t made by her, set upon this earth only to tease me. Maybe Freyja is in league with Loki and her goal is my torment.”

  She swallowed hard, not sure she’d heard him correctly. “What do you mean by that?”

  He took another step closer to her and her heart skipped a beat. “You are perfect, shaped full to please my hands, and you are sweet to my mouth. You have fire in you, with a touch of the vulnerable. You are caring and intelligent and have an adorable inability to marshal your mouth at times. It’s an endearing trait. You are the type of woman I would have sought to marry when marriage was an option.”

  His words sank in and made something light and beautiful flutter through her chest, made her mouth go dry. Never had a man said anything like that to her. Then the last part of what he’d said registered.

  … When marriage was an option.

  If she gave in to her desires right now and slept with Broder, she had to do it knowing she would never have more with him. He would never be free to marry her. They could never be together, not for forever. Loki controlled his fate and she didn’t have to ask to know that she was not in Loki’s plans for Broder. All she would ever have with him was this short time, their bodies joined.

  If she fell in love with him, heartbreak would be inevitable.

  Broder had stopped a breath’s space from her and was watching her carefully. Perhaps her thought process showed on her face.

  She looked up at him, studying the dark depths of his eyes and the contours of his face, the shape of his jaw and the curve of his lips. The cost was high, but she couldn’t deny this man.

  Right now she would pay any price to have him, even if it was only for a short time. No regrets. She knew if she passed this opportunity up, one day she’d regret it.

  His shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly as he saw the difference her thought process made on her face. For a moment they shared a silent conversation that they heard only in their heads.

  Jessa, if you want me to hold back, it will hurt, but I will.

  No. I want you, no matter what.

  EIGHTEEN

  He closed the slight distance between them the moment that telepathic conversation finished and she let out a sigh of relief. The conflict within her had ended. She’d made her decision, for better or worse.

  Broder walked over and drew her into his arms. Her stomach fluttered, but he seemed calm, confident, even though it had been a long time, a very long time, since he’d been with a woman. Of course, was Broder Calderson ever not completely self-assured?

  He cupped her cheek in his hand and lowered his mouth to hers, sipping softly at her lips for a moment, then slanting over them and sliding his tongue within to rub up against her tongue.

  He pushed her hair away from the delicate shell of her ear and found a sensitive spot right beneath her earlobe. He kissed it lingeringly, then let the tip of his tongue taste it.

  Her breathing and heart rate increased, her body quickening at his touch.

  “Let’s take this slow,” he murmured into her ear. “I want to taste every inch of you and commit your flavor to memory.”

  She shivered and nodded, running her hands up the bulge of his arms and twining her fingers into the silky hair at his nape. Slow, thorough sex with Broder? Yes, please.

  Broder pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop, exposing the scarred, yet beautiful, muscled expanse of his upper body. Her heart tap-danced for a moment. She had to touch him, just had to. Feeling drugged with need for him, she leaned down and laid a line of kisses from his hard abdomen, muscles rippling under her lips as she went, up his chest to the curve of his neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin. It fired her blood.

  He lifted her shirt over her head and slid the loose jersey pants she’d been training in down to her ankles. She toed off her shoes and stood in only her bra and underwear. His gaze swept down her in appreciation and he eased her back toward the bed.

  Soon her bra and underwear were gone, too. He lowered her onto the bed and unbuttoned his jeans. “I’m not letting you get away from me this time, Jessa. You’re mine. Mine ton
ight, mine as long as I can keep you.” He held her gaze as he eased his jeans down and off.

  Her gaze ate up every magnificent inch of him. His cock was long and thick and looked as hard as steel. Her fingers itched to stroke it.

  Realization dawned on her. “We have no condom.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot impregnate you, nor am I able to carry illness.”

  Thank all the powers of the universe. “Come here,” she murmured roughly, her voice low and husky from the lust coursing through her veins.

  He came down over her, his hands on either side of her head, and kissed her slowly, methodically. Then he nudged her head to the side and ran his tongue over the scar that marked her throat. She gasped at the exquisite sensitivity of it.