He looked up, meeting furious grey eyes that were full of satisfaction.
“Gods,” he said, his voice soft and rather sad, wondering what kind of fool he had been. “You don’t need anyone, do you?”
She smirked at him. “No,” she agreed, her tone hard. “I don’t.” Those grey eyes bore into his, and his breathing picked up as he saw the change in her expression. Her head lowered and she nipped at his ear with sharp teeth. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want someone, though.” Bram sucked in a breath as desire lit in his blood, every sensation heading south and demanding he flip her onto her back this minute. Instead, he lay still, torn between longing and an innate sense of self-preservation. Ameena laughed., her breath warm against his skin as she slid her body down his until she straddled his hips. Returning her lips to his skin, she traced the strong line of his jaw with her tongue, her eyes holding his as his breathing hitched. This is madness, Bram thought to himself, utter bloody madness, and then her hips ground against his, her own breathing getting ragged as she must have discovered exactly how aroused he was. She moved again as her mouth brushed over his and he groaned, horrified to hear such a deep, needful sound burst from his mouth.
Before things could go any further, Bram moved, taking control and flipping her over, slamming her down onto her back. He glared at her, finding he was angry still, despite his desire for her, no, because of his desire for her. She didn’t fit, she wasn’t what he wanted, and he was damned if she was going to make him dance to her tune.
She stared back into his furious face and he felt damn sure she knew just what he was thinking. There was defiance in her eyes, a look that dared him to walk away from her, and then she arched beneath him, inclining her head up to bite his lip before brushing her mouth over his.
Bram shuddered as a wave of lust coursed through his veins. Oh, gods, this was insane. He was frozen, torn between wanting what she wanted and horror at the fact that they were on the floor of the practice room and the door wasn’t even locked. Before he could talk sense into his one-track mind, however, her mouth pressed against his again and his self-control snapped.
Heat exploded between them, and suddenly it was a battle of teeth and tongues and mouths. She tore at his jacket, wrestling it over his broad shoulders with difficulty and tugging at his shirt, snatching at it to get her hands beneath it and on his skin. Bram groaned as his hand dropped to her hip and then slid down to her thigh, yanking her leg around and pulling her hard against him. She gasped and wrapped both legs around him, pulling him closer as he moved against her with something close to desperation, making her moan against his mouth.
Her hands were under his shirt now, and he felt her fingers skim his chest, down his abs, tangling in the trail of hair that would lead her lower. Bram stilled, astonished at her boldness, holding his breath as he stared at the brazen desire in her eyes. Ameena stared back, still defiant, still determined to have her way. Her hand continued down, smoothing over the fabric of his trousers, caressing the hardness she found beneath with slow, deliberate strokes. Bram’s eyes closed, his breath coming fast as he wondered if he’d actually lost his mind. If she kept this up, he guaranteed he would.
His eyes snapped open again, his body growing taut for an entirely different reason as the sound of footsteps and masculine laughter echoed in the corridor beyond the door. With a curse, he tried to sit up, to move away from her before they were discovered, but she tightened her legs around him.
“Don’t go,” she whispered, a glitter of excitement in her eyes. “They’re just passing by.”
Bram looked at her for a moment, his expression torn as his body rebelled, but the decision was made and he cursed again, pulling away from her. He got to his feet with angry movements, picking up his discarded jacket and shrugging it back on. He looked down at her. Trying not to notice how bruised and reddened her lips were, how dark her eyes were. “Don’t you care?” he demanded, his voice low but none the less angry for the lack of volume. “Doesn’t it bother you that they might come in and discover us?”
She looked back at him, her eyes steady and direct. “I would rather they didn’t,” she said, smiling at him and tilting her head a little. “But I didn’t want to stop.” Her words were breathless and full of desire, and his body tried to shout down the voice in his head that was already appalled by how far things had gone. Ameena got to her feet and walked to him. She moved close, smoothing her hands over his chest. “It was exciting, wasn’t it?”
Bram gritted his teeth and moved away from her. Women didn’t do this. It was a man’s job to seduce, to entice, a woman should be demur, shy, she should not … want in such an obvious manner. Not with a man she wasn’t engaged to marry, at the least. “You’re unbelievable!” he snapped, arranging his shirt with fastidious care.
Ameena snorted, putting her hands on her hips, grey eyes full of a raging storm and flashing with anger. “And you’re an uptight, narrow-minded hypocrite!”
“If I were you,” he snapped as fury surged to life in his chest. “I’d rather be considered uptight than a ...” He stopped, his jaw rigid.
“Than a what?” she asked, her voice as hard and cold as her eyes, which looked about as inviting as a northern sea. “Say it,” she demanded, her fists clenched now, her slender frame rigid with indignation and anger.
He looked back at her, his expression just as cold. “I will walk you back to your room.”
“Don’t bother!” she snarled, turning on her heel. “Get the fuck away from me.”
The first glimmer of remorse flickered in his mind as he realised he’d hurt her as much as offended her. He shouldn’t have been so harsh. Bram followed her, catching hold of her arm to stop her.
“Ameena ...”
“I mean it!” She turned around with such speed and pushed him so hard that he stumbled back. “Stay away from me, you bastard, I hate you, and I don’t need your help or your protection.” She turned away from him, back to the punching bag but not before he’d seen the tears glittering in her eyes. “Go and find some pretty faery to fulfil whatever macho hero fantasy it is you have, and leave me be.”
She began hitting the bag again, with more force than before, but much less control. Bram stood watching, torn between wanting to get as far from her as possible and the idea of leaving her alone. She turned on him and swung a punch that grazed his chin as he moved away.
“Go!” she screamed, her face contorted with the force of her rage.
Bram sucked in a breath before he compounded this nightmare by saying something far worse and left, slamming the door behind him.
***
Corin stood on the balcony overlooking the gardens within the castle walls. He may dislike the interior of the building, its opulence and indulgence were in exceedingly bad taste in his opinion, but the gardens were another matter. When he had arrived, they were sick and dying, the plants choked by weeds, the trees nothing more than skeletal shapes against a dead background. Now the gardens were alive again, lush and green, a riot of colour and texture, of scent and sensuality as curving paths led sinuously from one cleverly crafted area to another. It was a magnificent work of art that he could not help but admire.
He turned as he felt another presence beside him and found Laen surveying the view with approval. “It is lovely,” he said, standing beside Corin and bracing his arms on the balustrade.
Corin nodded, quite happy to agree. “Yes, it is, but I would still rather be at home. I want to leave as soon as possible. ” He caught Laen’s look and sighed, his mood immediately sinking. “Don’t,” he muttered. He knew all too well what was coming.
“I’m sorry, but you know as well I do how much there is to do here. Neither of us will be leaving any time soon, so stop kidding yourself. At the first opportunity, you need to get to Mechstrana, too, solidify your position there before anyone gets any ideas. If you leave them be for too long, those who would move against you will take their chances.”
“Well, aren’t you ju
st a little ray of sunshine this morning!” Corin said with a huff, folding his arms. He’d actually been in rather a good mood. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know everything Laen had said was true, he just didn’t see why he had to think about it right this minute after the events of the past weeks. Couldn’t he have one bloody day off, for the love of the gods?
Laen, however, appeared oblivious and carried on. “I’m not liking the reports of what we are finding in the dungeons, either,” he said, his voice growing low and anxious. “You do realise it is full to bursting point.”
Frowning, Corin pinching the bridge of his nose. “And it was such a lovely morning,” he murmured with a sigh as Laen rattled on … and on.
“I’ve also found evidence that Auberren was involved in a significant trade of drugs, and slaves.”
Corin looked around at that, his expression revolted. Not that he’d been unaware that such trade existed, he wasn’t naive, but that the king had been involved with it? That was beyond the pale.
Laen nodded, folding his arms. “I’ve got men investigating, but it seems Auberren had a roaring trade going, and not only with the human world. Though he’s sold some of the kingdom’s most precious artefacts to them to pay for the weaponry he used against us.”
Cursing, Corin folded his arms and wondered how much worse it could possibly get. What a damnable mess, and how in the name of the gods was he to go about putting it to rights?
“It’s clearly where the dagger came from that ended up in that museum in Paris,” Laen added with a wry smile. “I always wondered how it got there.”
“You mean the one you were sent to fetch when you found yourself a wife?” Corin asked with the quirk of one eyebrow. Laen grinned at him and nodded. Sadly, he wasn’t done, though. Corin sighed and looked back at the gardens, doing his best to ignore Laen’s increasing list of horrors. With pleasure, he noted Claudette returning from her walk. Cerberus was walking ahead of her, nose in the air, tongue lolling and tail still wagging like an overactive metronome, leading them all safely back home. Corin grinned. “Idiotic creature,” he said, chuckling to himself. The other wolves strode easily behind them, Varg secure enough in his masculinity to allow Cerberus his fantasy of being Alpha. Claudette’s bodyguards followed her, too, at a discreet distance, trying to allow her the illusion of solitude although they were watching her every move.
Laen was still talking, apparently many of the prisoners needed immediate release - Corin waved his hand in approval - and others would need Corin’s personal attention before decisions could be made about the validity of their incarceration. Corin suspected the vast majority of the inmates were there unlawfully, as Auberren had clearly been mad for far longer than anyone had suspected. Prisoners and their fates fled from his mind, however, as he saw Claudette pause, leaning heavily on a rather lovely statue of a tree nymph, and breathing hard. Her guards ran towards her, demanding if she was well, and she waved them off, but Corin could tell from her posture that she felt unwell. She stayed where she was, breathing steadily and closing her eyes.
Corin watched her, looking harder now, and his eyes widened as his heart leapt in his chest. With an exclamation, he grabbed hold of Laen’s arm, startling the man so much that he nearly jumped out of his skin. With alarm, Laen tried to pry his hand away, no doubt fearing a repeat of the previous night’s incident. Corin, however, was holding on for dear life as such a turmoil of emotions hit him that he could hardly breath.
“Oh, gods,” he whispered, clinging to Laen for support now, who was staring at him, utterly perplexed. He followed Corin’s gaze, staring at Claudette, who was walking away again now.
“What?” Laen demanded, staring around in alarm, his hand on his sword. “What can you see that I can’t?”
But Corin’s eyes were fixed on his wife-to-be, and the soft glow that surrounded her.
“Corin?”
Corin looked around at Laen as Claudette disappeared from view, and gave a strangled laugh. He was torn between joy and complete terror.
“You look like you’re about to have hysterics,” Laen observed, looking a little rattled.
Corin nodded and let go of Laen’s arm, moving to the closest seat and sinking down in it before his knees gave out.
“Oh, gods, Laen. I have got my dearest wish and I can’t regret it, but …” He put his head in his hands as the implications crashed down on him. “Oh, mother Nerthus, what have I done?”
Laen’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he smiled as understanding cleared his face. “So,” he said, his voice amused. “It seems you will be providing a playmate sooner than expected.” He chuckled with delight, but his laughter stopped abruptly as he saw that Corin wasn’t looking happy at all.
“You don’t understand, Laen,” Corin said as he tried to figure out how he could possibly explain it to Claudette after everything he’d said. “I promised her.” He looked up at Laen, realising just how badly he’d betrayed her. “I promised she could trust me. I was even angry with her when she tried to protect herself. I-I shouted at her. By the gods, I was so bloody angry, and now …” He groaned, covering his eyes as he felt Laen sit down beside him. Giving a heavy sigh, he let his hands fall to his lap and turned to Laen, who was giving him a curious expression.
“Well, what on earth did happen?” he demanded, making Corin bristle a bit. Men had control over whether or not a child was made, only, over-excited boys forgot themselves in the heat of the moment, and Corin felt aggrieved by the implication. “It’s not like you’re some fool adolescent,” Laen carried on with his usual tact. “How could you let it happen?”
Corin glowered at him a little, folding his arms. “The night before the Field of Kings,” he said, his tone a little defiant. Gods, he’d been lucky to survive that night at all, it was hardly any wonder he’d forgotten himself. He’d barely been himself.
“Oh,” Laen said, his brow creasing. He’d not been there, but Corin had told him how close he’d been to losing himself, that Claudette had brought him back from the darkness that had wanted to swallow him whole. Laen sighed, his voice reassuring. “She’ll forgive you, you fool. In the circumstances, she couldn’t not.” Corin looked up at him, praying he was right, and Laen smiled. “She loves you, she’ll get used to the idea.”
Corin nodded, but in truth, he was far from convinced. He got to his feet and went to look at the garden again, seeing in his mind’s eye a little golden-eyed boy running across the grass. “Every time she puts her trust in me, I let her down,” he said as Laen moved to stand next to him. Corin looked up at him, his heart full of joy and regret and confusion. “Gods, Laen, what can I do?” he demanded as he realised that she didn’t even know herself yet. “How do I explain? How do I tell her that she’s going to have my child?”
Chapter 35
"For the love of the gods, sit down, man,” Laen said, exasperated by Corin’s constant pacing. “You're going to wear a hole in the carpet." By now, he was feeling as strung out as Corin, as he’d been watching him pace for the last ten minutes. It was getting on his last nerve. To be fair, he had to admit that it seemed as though the fates were conspiring against his friend today. Corin had taken every opportunity to try and get time on his own with Claudette, but some pressing demand or other had meant he had not yet had the opportunity to speak with her alone. The fear of her reaction was driving him to distraction, and Laen with him.
"Good to know I can count on your sympathy and support!" Corin snapped, raking a hand through his thick, dark hair. He’d been snappy and short-tempered all day, not that Laen could blame him, but his own patience wasn’t as elastic as Corin’s normally was.
"Forgive me,” he said, his tone dry, “But I've been sympathetic and supportive all day. The strain is beginning to take its toll." He sat back in the chair and regarded Corin’s indignant expression with amusement.
"Remind me there is a time limit on such things when Océane goes into labour,” Corin muttered, flinging himself down in the
chair opposite.
Laen folded his arms, returning an injured expression. "Well, that was low.”
Corin groaned. He leant forward, putting his head in his hands, his long fingers tangled in his hair. "Oh, gods, Laen, what am I to do? She's getting ready for this blasted ball tonight now and I can't spoil that, which means I won't be alone with her until the early hours. I can't speak to her then because she'll be too tired and more likely to take it badly. Which means I have to wait until the morning. I think I may run mad before then."
Laen got up and poured himself a drink, at a loss to give Corin any useful advice. As far as he could tell, his friend was in for a hard time, and there was nothing that Laen could think of to make it any better - really not his forte. He sat down again, turning the crystal glass in his hands and watching the amber liquid as it swirled. He was about to savour his first sip when it was snatched from his grasp. He turned to see Corin down it in one swallow.
"What the ..." Laen snatched the now empty glass back, glaring at him. "Get your own!"
"A real friend would have gotten one for me," Corin grumbled, sitting back and folding his arms across his chest.
"You need to stop that," Laen said, wagging a finger at him. To be fair, in the short period since he’d become king, he’d barely touched a drop, to Laen’s knowledge, compared to before, at least, but he didn’t know how much it would take to start him off again. He was under a lot of pressure now with everyone demanding his time. This was not going to help. "If you're going to be a father, you can't go getting off your head every time you have a problem. Not anymore."
Corin got to his feet and resumed his pacing, pausing only to give Laen a look of reproach. "It's been a very trying day,” he said, his tone indicating that the words did not illustrate the reality as fully as they ought. “And I do not get off my head - as you so eloquently put it - every time I have a problem,” he added, irritation colouring the words now.
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