Shadow and Ice

by Gena Showalter

  Vale London had been taken off the market for good. As Knox had said, who could she trust?

  Her tears became great, heaving sobs.

  * * *

  WHILE HIDING WEAPONS throughout the motel room, Knox perceived the faint sound of crying. He stilled, his heart sharpened, scraping his chest raw with every beat.

  He knew what had happened. The weight of Vale’s circumstances had crystalized at last and realization had set in. This was a positive development. So why was he moving toward the bathroom door, determined to wrap his arms around her, hold her close, and coo words of comfort to her?

  Him, offer comfort?

  How could he give someone else what he’d never received?

  Except, he had received comfort. From Vale. In the car, she’d expressed sympathy for the loss of his daughter. More important, she’d understood the depths of his pain. But...

  His steps slowed, ceased. He shouldn’t want to comfort her. The uncharacteristic desire pointed to an unacceptable development. Namely, he was growing to care for her.

  Sex was permitted; emotion wasn’t.

  Could he keep the two separated? Vale was the sexiest piece of femininity he’d ever seen, the strength of her spirit staggered him, and her loyalty to her sister continued to amaze him. But at the end of the day, she remained Knox’s enemy. So yes. Yes, he could—he would—separate the two.

  A truly wise man might have walked away, rather than risking everything for a night of passion. But Knox would risk everything if he didn’t get her into bed. Here, now, he was distracted. Needy.

  That would change tonight. For the first time in his life, his enemy would become his lover. Afterward, the wanting and needing would end.

  Could he kill her then? Thanks for the orgasm, my sweet, now hold still while I remove your head.

  Knox rubbed his chest. Forget the sharper beats. He felt as if his heart had been ripped out and stomped on.

  He wouldn’t kill Vale tonight, even if his instinct demanded otherwise. He would make sure she understood sex wouldn’t alter the course of their relationship. One day, they would be pitted against each other, and only one of them would walk away. One day, he would fail her as he’d failed Minka.

  Stomp, stomp. What woman in her right mind would accept such a proposal? He could think of only three reasons. To use him for protection, to betray him while he was distracted, or because she was as crazed with lust as Knox.

  Every time she’d glanced in his direction, her pupils had expanded, her tantalizing flesh had flushed a lovely shade of rose and the pulse at the base of her neck had quickened.

  She did lust for him. But did she want him gentle or rough? Which did he prefer? He’d never gotten rough with a woman. As sheltered, delicate and easily intimidated as his Iviland lovers had been, he’d feared they would run screaming if ever he’d displayed a modicum of aggression. But Vale was tougher, braver, bolder, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another.

  A vibration in his hand. The hand with the rice-sized comm injected in one of his knuckles. He cursed.

  King Ansel had just requested a meeting.

  Hatred seethed inside him, but not by word or deed did he reveal it as he lifted his hand and grazed his thumb over the ring.

  A beam of light shot from the jewel, an image appearing in the center.

  Most royals opted to enjoy the spoils they stole from their representatives, but King Ansel had never ceased his combat training, his muscle mass as bulky as Knox’s. He had shoulder-length violet hair, and eyes the color of a winter forest. He’d spent centuries underground, sheltered from Iviland’s ruined suns, before moving to another realm—one Knox had won—choosing to rule the citizens of Iviland from afar. His skin was pearly white, nearly translucent.

  Speaking in Ivish, Ansel demanded, “Are you in a safe location?”

  “I am,” he replied in the same language. He wouldn’t have answered the call otherwise. If ever a meeting would endanger his life, or he wasn’t physically capable of responding, he had permission to ignore a request.

  He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. One day he wouldn’t need permission for anything.

  Ansel smiled coolly. “Tell me again, properly this time. You are addressing your king. Kneel.”

  With every fiber of his being, Knox fought the compulsion to obey. I bow to no one. His slave bands sizzled, sweat pouring from him, and his limbs shook. He was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it.

  “Kneel!”

  His knees buckled, and he dropped. “I am in a safe location.”

  Ansel’s cool smile acquired a smug undertone. Going to make his death hurt. Soon...

  “Much better,” the king said. “Thirteen hundred years have passed with no word from you, the Enforcer or any other combatant. An All War first. Measures had to be taken and new rules established in case something like that ever happened again.”

  Something about the king’s tone...

  “What measures?” Knox asked.

  “All you need to know is that I’m meeting with the other rulers and the High Council, and we will decide what to do about your war. Until then...” Ansel waved a hand, a silent command to let the subject drop. “Tell me why communication ended the day of a check-in only to suddenly begin again centuries later.”

  Words spilled from his throat, in a hurry to greet the king’s ears. He detailed the viking attack, the part Cannon’s rod had played and the eventual collapse of the prison, making no mention of Vale.

  If she exited the bathroom before the conference ended...

  “You’ve made new kills since gaining your freedom,” Ansel said, expectant.

  “Yes. Shiloh and Gunnar.”

  A cold laugh. “Shiloh, our ally. Interesting.”

  Guilt spiked. Ignore it. “His death saved my life.”

  “Then you did the right thing. If the Asnanthaleigh king protests, I’ll handle it.”

  A cruelty disguised as a kindness. Ansel would arrange for the king’s murder, or the kidnapping and impregnation of one of his daughters, so that he could use the child as leverage. His specialty. Knox’s hands balled into fists.

  Say nothing.

  “You have a plan, I’m sure.” Ansel gave another royal wave, a silent command to share the details.

  “I do have a plan, and I’m keen to return to it.” Before the male came face-to-face with Vale.

  Ansel narrowed his eyes. “There isn’t another realm like Terra, and I will rule it. I’ve waited long enough. Too long. Win this war as quickly as possible. Have you forgotten what you’ll gain when you emerge victorious?”

  “I have not,” he grated. Freedom. Vengeance.

  Peace.

  For a moment, one startling moment, a part of him wanted to lose. To die so that the toxic cycle would end, and the misery would cease. He would no longer have to deny the raw, agonizing guilt that accompanied the destruction of other combatants who were stuck in a similar situation, who had families.

  The strain and shame of being considered less than, a sub-being...the consequences of a loss—Ansel delighting in his life and the victories other people won on his behalf, never made to pay for his crimes, while billions of other people suffered under his oppressive rule. The burden of it all... Too much for me to bear. Too much for anyone to bear.

  But Knox wouldn’t lose. Hate wouldn’t let him.

  Knox knew Ansel wished he’d sired more children. Knew the king longed to threaten someone he valued. The very reason he’d decided there would be no more children until Ansel and the High Council were eradicated, not even by accident. But abstinence hadn’t been an option for Knox; he could be ordered to bed a fertile woman. He’d known of only one sure way to save himself the heartbreak of losing another child. Temporary sterilization.

  His third All War, he’d won a mag
ical realm populated by witches, warlocks and other mystical beings. Ansel had no idea he’d procured a potion while there or that, until Knox returned and procured an antidote, he would remain sterile.

  No other child will suffer as you did, darling Minka.

  Ansel’s voice whisked him back to the present. “My spies have picked up chatter among other sovereigns. Adonis of Callum has used the Horn of Summoning to create an army of mindless mortals willing to die to protect him. If the opportunity presents itself, you will kill him.”

  “Yes, I will.” At least the king hadn’t ordered Knox to kill Adonis now, and stop at nothing to see the deed done. But then, the king knew better than to screw with a combatant’s battle plan; he’d gotten others killed that way.

  The knob on the bathroom door turned.

  “Someone comes,” Knox said. Truth, without revealing any details. He was forbidden to speak a lie to his king. “I must go.” He pressed his thumb against the ring, the light fading, a scowling Ansel vanishing.

  Hinges squeaked. A cloud of steam ushered Vale out of the bathroom, making her appear to step from a dream. Though her eyes were red and puffy from crying, she was still the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

  “Did we have a guest?” Her brow furrowed as she looked around. “I thought I heard two voices.”

  “I was contacted by my king,” he said, rising to his feet.

  She’d changed into a white T-shirt and miniscule pink shorts he’d picked out during their shopping extravaganza, her flawless legs exposed, the sight playing havoc with his concentration. The material was thin enough to reveal glimpses of the bra and panties underneath. Black lace embroidered with crimson roses.

  The ends of her hair dripped, the white locks plaited over her crown, the black locks hanging down her back.

  He didn’t just want her. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman. Every sensation she’d ever aroused in him surged anew, his body aching, throbbing.

  Tone as sharp as a dagger, he said, “We are going to discuss your husband.”

  She paled. “What about him?”

  “Tell me true. Do you love him?” If she did...

  Do not tear this room apart.

  “Um.” Shifting from one bare foot to another, she whispered, “No. Why?”

  The response hit him like Zion’s punch. “Good. He no longer exists for you. Consider yourself single.”

  She narrowed her eyes, but not before he caught a glimpse of intrigue and relief. Why relief? “So I’m single? Just like that?” She snapped her fingers.

  “Just like that.” Knox stepped toward her, stopped. Stepped. Stopped. How to handle this? He motioned to the bed with a trembling hand. “Sit down.”

  “No, thanks. It’s easier to run away if I’m standing.”

  “Please sit,” he said, molars grinding. “I’ve already explained the foolishness of running from me.”

  “You’re right. I’ll happily pop a squat.” She lifted her chin. “After you tell me what’s going on.”

  Frustrating woman! How did he explain his intention to bed her and what he expected to happen afterward without enraging her?

  Do you desire me the way I desire you? Will you risk everything to spend a single night in my bed?

  None of that left his mouth. “Your vocation,” he said. “What do you do for income?”

  She regarded him with suspicion, but said, “For the past few years, I’ve been a professional student working as a waitress and barista, dreaming of the day I open a sweet treat shop with my sister. What about you?”

  “Professional killer,” he muttered, and paced back and forth, back and forth. He could scent her—soap, jasmine and spices, with a hint of honeysuckle. A fragrance as luscious as the woman herself. His head fogged, arousal a ravenous fire in his blood, torching one reservation after another, until none remained.

  “I know you’re a killer,” she said. “But what do you want to be?”

  The answer slipped from him, unbidden. “Free.”

  “You aren’t free now?” A beat of silence before understanding dawned in those exquisite hazel eyes. “I’m sorry, Knox.”

  “You will not pity me,” he snapped. “I’m strong. A victor!”

  “I know you’re strong, and a victor. But you don’t strike me as the type to laze about, so I’ll ask again. What do you want to be when you’re free?”

  “I...don’t know.” Do it. Tell her. “I only know I want every inch of my shaft buried inside you.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  VALE REELED. Knox wanted her. Wanted inside her. Knox, with his heavy-lidded eyes and desire-flushed skin, wanted inside her bad, and now her skin was overheating, her limbs shaking, the knowledge battering any defenses she’d managed to reerect after the crying bout in the shower had left her wrung out and vulnerable.

  “How deep do your desires go?” she croaked. Deep enough to give her a vow of protection, rather than of harm?

  His eyelids hooded as he said, “Strip, spread your legs, and we’ll find out exactly how deep my desires go.”

  A half moan, half chuckle escaped her. Surprise, surprise. Knoxie had a sense of humor. Unfortunately, it only made her want him more.

  “I desire you, too,” she said, and primal satisfaction glowed in his irises. “But I don’t know why. I don’t know you.” Or did she? Because of the circumstances surrounding their introduction and subsequent interactions, she’d already seen the best and worst of Knox. The kinds of things most couples didn’t usually learn about each other until they’d dated for months. “You’ve killed.”

  “And I’ll kill again.”

  A point in his favor—he hadn’t reminded her of the murder she’d committed.

  He took a step toward her, peering at her with such raw desire, his beauty acquired an aura of cruelty, as if no deed was too dark as long as he got what he wanted.

  “You’ll kill me,” she said between panting breaths.

  “Yes.” Another step closer. “One day.”

  He looked...anguished.

  A startling truth hit her. Before this moment, he’d always worn a mask when they were together. Now the mask was gone, his true nature on display. She saw pain and hopelessness far beyond anything she’d ever known, making him tragic, haunting and haunted all at once.

  To win four All Wars, he’d had to do unspeakable things, and he hadn’t emerged unscathed. He might deny it, but deep down he hurt.

  “If you win Earth,” she said, “you’ll be set free?” Before, he’d mentioned the enslavement of her people. Only when he’d expressed his own hope to be free had she connected the dots.

  Knox was already enslaved.

  “That is what I’ve been promised, yes. Then, and only then, will I be able to avenge my daughter’s death, liberate the slaves still trapped in Iviland, and go after—” He sealed his mouth shut, narrowed his eyes.

  But that was okay. She got the gist and comprehended he truly could not be lured to her side. What he did, he did for a higher purpose—for others.

  This man was so much more complicated than she’d ever expected.

  Respect for him skyrocketed, right alongside compassion. What a solitary life he must have led, afraid to trust or love after his daughter’s death, expecting betrayal at every turn. How many times had he gotten knocked down, only to force himself to rise and march on?

  For the first time in their association, she looked at him and thought, He has significant other potential.

  And he clearly thought the same about her. He’d commanded her to forget her husband. The bond—fake though it was—bothered him.

  The questions she’d used to ask herself before agreeing to go on a date whirled inside her head. Will this man lie to me? Probably. Cheat on me? No. He was too honest, too in-your-face. Will he steal from me? Most defin
itely. He planned to steal her life.

  And yet, the negatives weren’t going to stop her. She wanted him still—wanted him more.

  Aching, desperate, Vale jumped on him, winding her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, leaning down to feed him a scorching kiss.

  Just before their lips met, he wrenched his face away from hers. “Sex, yes.” The huskiness of his voice was as potent as a caress. Didn’t help that he was staring at her lips with dark possessiveness. “Kissing, no.”

  What! “Why?” Visions of Pretty Woman danced in her head. Was she not good enough for mouth-to-mouth?

  Never worthy of affection.

  Rigid, she climbed off him. Or tried. He held firm.

  “I want a kiss, or nothing,” she snapped.

  “I’ve seen what kissing does to other men. They close their eyes, and become lost to the world. With sex, I can remain aware.”

  The hottest flames of her anger cooled. Would he remain aware with her, or would she push him past the boundaries of his control?

  “You don’t want to be distracted, got it. But,” she added, grazing the tip of her nose against his, “you mentioned other men, not yourself. Why?”

  “I’ve never kissed, or been kissed.” The words were as thick as molasses, and just as sweet.

  No way. Just no way. “You mean never, as in never?”

  “The word never has a second meaning?” He arched a brow, then confirmed with a nod. “Never.” Then he grumbled, “Not in a way that counts, anyway.”

  She kinda sorta...believed him. His body tenser by the second, he stared at her mouth as if it was an exotic animal he wanted to pet but feared he’d get bitten.

  Knox of Iviland feared nothing. Until me. Feminine power was a fine wine, and Vale quickly got drunk on it. How had he lived so long without his defenses crumbling, or at least cracking?

  Ripples of desire agonized Vale. I want to be his first kiss.

  Let the seduction begin.

  Time to engage his mind. “I have a riddle for you,” she said. “I am light as a feather, but no one can hold me for long. You cannot live without me. And the faster you run, the harder I am to catch. What am I?”