by Bec McMaster
“No.” Instantly, she was steel again. “Duty first. We head north.” Solveig glanced toward the darkening sky. “And we’d best leave now, before that storm hits, or else we’re going to have to take shelter somewhere along the way, and the others will be waiting for us at the edge of Zilittu territory.”
Marduk let his hands drop to his trousers, though he paused there. “You, me, and a little hunting cabin in the hills? Sounds like fun. Just remember… I did offer to let you stay in your own bed.”
“Really?” She offered him a sweet smile as she started undoing the buttons down the middle of her shirt. It gaped open, revealing a slash of olive skin all the way to her navel. “It sounds like you’ll have a cold ass, because you’ll be on the floor, Marduk.”
He sighed and turned around. “I should never have told you I was attracted to you.”
A smoky laugh assailed him from behind. “Oh, I knew you were attracted to me. And this isn’t torture, Marduk. Not yet. I told you… I haven’t even started.”
Her shirt hit him in the middle of the back, and then heat spilled over him from behind as she shifted into the sleek, scaled beast.
Marduk caught her shirt before it hit the ground and lifted it to his face. It smelled like her.
And he was hard again, a fact he was fairly certain she was aware of, considering the evil dreki-like smile she bestowed upon him before she took to the skies.
8
Then
Marduk broke the surface of the river, flinging his head back and raking water from his eyes as he strode toward shore. The mountain stream was bitterly cold. He’d found it on one of his solitary hikes, and since then, whenever the air at Harald’s court became too choking, he slipped away to find some peace.
He needed it today, more than ever.
“Three days,” Harald had said last night. “I have been patient, Your Highness, but no longer. I will have your answer by the morning of the third day. Choose, Marduk.”
And then he’d pushed away from the table, leaving Marduk to get thoroughly, absolutely drunk by himself.
Choose.
Marduk closed his eyes. He felt like he had a noose around his neck. There was no more putting this off, no way to avoid the jaws of his mother’s trap.
Aslaug had approached him last night and made it perfectly clear she’d be receptive to his advances. He’d tried to insist she deserved better than someone like him, and while he thought she might have understood, she’d cried a little.
He hated making women cry.
But no matter where he looked, his options for escape were narrowing.
“What the hell are you doing?” an angry voice cut through his distraction.
Mother goddess. “Solveig?”
What was she doing here?
She’d been avoiding him all week.
Marduk’s heart skipped a beat, but the look on her face wasn’t that of a woman who’d finally sought him out. No, she looked furious. He ducked beneath the water.
Slinging her leg over the back of her horse, she dismounted. “Zilittu warriors were seen in our skies. Nobody was supposed to leave the court. My father’s had half the guards out all morning, searching for you. How selfish can you be? I was starting to think you might have been taken prisoner.”
In Iceland, he was free to come and go as he pleased. “The guards saw me leave.”
“Exactly. Otherwise, my father’s dreki would be turning the castle inside out. What were you thinking?” Anger smoldered on her brow like a thundercloud. “No, you weren’t thinking. Clearly. You didn’t give a damn about anyone else and whether they had matters to attend to this morning.”
He skimmed his fingers over the water, grateful it cleared his navel. Nakedness rarely bothered him—particularly when there was a kissable woman in front of him—but for some reason he felt a little vulnerable when it came to her.
Maybe it was the look in her eyes that said if she had a knife in hand she’d use it.
Or maybe it was the fact that despite her chilly rebuffs, he couldn’t help the yearning feeling in his chest when he looked at her.
“The guards saw me go,” he repeated loudly and clearly. “The same way I’ve been coming and going for the last two weeks. Nobody has even mentioned that such things aren’t done in your court.” Ah, but then Harald has just given me an ultimatum, hasn’t he? Marduk breathed a soft laugh as he realized exactly what the canny old bastard was up to. “Did he send you this way?”
“What? Who?”
“Your father. Did he send you to search for me up here?”
Solveig’s eyes narrowed as she tied her horse to a birch. “I know the northern passes of the mountains better than anyone. Of course he sent me.”
“Alone? With all these Zilittu in the skies?”
Something about her expression told him she was starting to wonder herself. “The Zilittu wouldn’t dare touch me. I’d tear them from the skies.”
He’d seen her abilities in wielding Air.
She’d been lobbing boulders into the mountains one morning in a display he was fairly certain was for his sake. She hadn’t missed her target once.
“But he thinks I can’t defend myself?” No. Marduk shook his head. “You’ve been played, Princess.” He started wading toward the shore. “By your own father.” And so had he, by the sound of it. If he’d run—which Harald clearly thought was likely—all those Sadu dreki would be searching for him. If he hadn’t run and was merely taking his usual swim, then Solveig was bound to stumble across him. What’s the bet that no Zilittu has even been seen? “Now close your eyes or you’re going to get an eyeful of what the goddess gave me.”
Solveig crossed her arms over her chest and deliberately met his gaze as if to say she wasn’t concerned in the slightest. “She had to gift you with something. Your brother clearly got the lion’s share of the Zini intelligence.”
His smile turned thin as he cleared the water. Fine, then. Look all you like. “My brother is hibernating in a bloody cave somewhere, so no, I don’t think he’s the smart one.”
“What’s wrong?” Her eyes narrowed as if she sensed a weakness. “Jealous?”
“Of Rurik?” He snatched at his towel and dried his face. “Hardly.”
“Then why—?”
A growl escaped him. “Is there a reason you’re obsessing over my brother?” He lowered the towel and wrapped it around his waist. “He murdered my father, so I don’t want to talk about him. If Rurik was such a clever bastard, then he wouldn’t have been caught kneeling over my father’s body with his blood all over his hands, would he? If he was innocent then he would have stayed, instead of tucking tail and running. He would have fought those accusations.” Marduk shook his head. “Though what was the point? What is it the Scots say? Guilty are those that are caught red-handed?”
Solveig’s silence held a weight of condemnation, and he realized he’d almost been shouting there, at the end.
Loki’s ass, he could see the judgement in her eyes.
“What?” he demanded furiously.
Solveig picked his shirt up, and instead of throwing it at him—which he’d expected—she crossed toward him. “It’s just… my father doesn’t think your brother killed the king.”
Of all the things he’d expected her to say…. Marduk stared at her. “There was blood all over his hands…. There were witnesses—”
“We know. We heard. Your mother’s loyal subjects all swore that Rurik was the last one seen in your father’s chambers.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “My father was friends with yours. He never did trust your mother.”
Marduk froze.
He’d been young when it happened.
All he could remember was the rush of guards’ feet on the tiled floors of the court; his mother screaming at his uncle Stellan that they needed to find Rurik and take him into custody; and blood soaking into the rugs in his father’s room when he’d finally stolen in there when no one was looking, desperate for answers.
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He’d only found his mother, staring down at that rug with her hands clasped over her mouth.
The sight of all that blood had transfixed him.
It didn’t feel real…. It couldn’t be all that was left of his beloved father. He’d started choking on the sensation crawling up his throat and that was when his mother noticed him.
“Get him out of here,” she’d snarled, as Niels hauled him out of the room. “I don’t want him to see this.”
Only later, after hours locked in his room, his breath catching in small increments at every sound, had she sent Stellan to formally inform him that his father was dead.
“Murdered,” Stellan had said coldly. “By your brother.”
It wasn’t possible.
Rurik loved their father, and Marduk adored the both of them.
But Rurik was gone.
The world had fallen in on him in that moment. He’d wanted to see Árdís, but the princess was “being protected.” They were both being protected, because who knew what plans Rurik held in his deceitful heart?
And he waited.
A thousand nights he’d waited, staring at the stars, certain that Rurik would return for him to tell him the truth….
But he never came.
And Marduk was forced to accept that his brother—the hero he’d spent the first half of his life worshipping—was no hero at all, but a patricide.
“What did you say?” he whispered to Solveig.
And she repeated the words, but the ones that stayed with him were those last few.
“He never did trust your mother.”
My mother, the Zilittu princess who now rules my father’s court.
Doubt speared through his heart. No. No, he’d been down this route before. He’d conjured a million excuses for Rurik. He’d spent years searching for the truth, only to realize Rurik’s continued absence was its own guilty verdict.
But his mother was a cold, vicious bitch who allowed nothing to stand in her way.
“Come on.” There was the tiniest hint of sympathy in her voice. “Get dressed. There’s supposed to be a dinner tonight, and you’re the guest of honor. Aslaug’s spent hours fixing her hair.”
Stab. Stab. Her words were like knives and he had little defense right now.
He shook away the doubt. He wasn’t going to do this to himself again. Hope was the cruelest bitch of all, and he had other matters to attend to. Namely… “I haven’t made my choice yet.”
“She’s the only one who wants you.”
Stab again. Right through the heart.
And maybe his thwarted anger got the better of him. “Isn’t it a little awkward that you’re standing here while I’m half-naked? What would your sister think? The one everyone wants me to mate with?”
Finally a reaction. Hot circles bloomed in her cheeks. “Yours isn’t the first cock I’ve ever seen, little prince.”
“Little?”
She gave him an evil smile. “I’ll be generous enough to admit the stream’s cold this time of year.”
Marduk paused with his shirt halfway over his head. “Not half as cold as your heart.”
“Oh, haven’t you heard?” She turned and started to saunter toward her horse. “I haven’t got one.”
His gaze dropped to her ass. Every inch of her was lean, sculpted muscle, with barely a curve in sight, but she wore the tightest leather breeches, and curse him if he hadn’t noticed. “I’ve heard. Everyone has heard.”
But she hadn’t been cold the morning they dueled. No, she’d been liquid lightning in his arms.
And she’d nearly let him kiss her.
Everything came to a head within him. Maybe this was part of his problem? Everyone—including the princess stalking toward her horse—was pushing him at the youngest sister.
But he didn’t want Aslaug.
And he was fairly certain Aslaug didn’t particularly wish for him to choose her, not in her heart of hearts. She just wanted escape too.
“Did you say the river was cold?” he mused, tossing his shirt aside and striding after her.
Solveig shot a dismissive look over her shoulder. “Maybe I was being polite.” Then her eyes widened and she spun around. “What are you doing?”
He’d seen her lash out before, and didn’t give her a chance. Instead he hauled her up over his shoulder. “What does it look like?”
“Marduk!” Solveig clutched at his shoulders. “Put me down, you idiot!”
He started back toward the river, and that was when she started to realize he wasn’t merely playing. She went wild. Hammering at his back. Kicking at him. Threatening to bite him.
“I thought you wanted to test the water,” he said before he simply tossed her in. Solveig slammed into the river. She came up sputtering, her hair running in wet rivulets down her face as she held her arms out, her shirt clinging to her skin.
Water dripped down her figure.
The expression on her face was nine parts shock and one part fury, though he had the suspicion that was going to change.
Marduk leaned against a tree. “My apologies. I thought you might have wanted a bath before my special dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?”
He couldn’t help himself. “The one where you’re going to throw your sister into my lap and try to ignore the fact you nearly let me kiss you the other day.”
“Kiss you?”
“Yes.” He ripped the towel away and started into the water. “Kissed me. You thought about it, Solveig. Your gaze dropped to my lips, and the look in your eyes wasn’t cold. Not at all. You want to know why? Because I’m not scared of you or your ice.” He was knee deep in the water, wading toward her. “And that’s what you want, deep down inside. You want someone who’s going to fight for you. You want someone who’s not afraid to toss you over his shoulder and make you see sense.”
“I don’t want to be mated!” she yelled.
“Neither do I!” he yelled back. “But if I’m going to be forced into this, then you—”
“Don’t you dare say it!”
She hooked a boot behind his ankle and he went down with a crash, slamming into the water.
And then she was on him.
Solveig grabbed for him, tangling her fist in his hair. She rose above him in the water, clearly intending to shove his head under.
The problem was that the weight imbalance between them worked in his favor. He clasped his arms around her waist and surged upright, intending to prove how useless the endeavor was.
Except, all of a sudden he found himself with an armful of wet, writhing female, and her white cotton shirt clung to her like a second skin. The dusky tips of her nipples showed through it, and one of her buttons had torn loose.
And they were right in his face.
“Jesus.” He trapped her in his arms, and then they were face-to-face.
“What’s wrong, Marduk?” Every inch of her tone was scorn, but he could taste her breath on his lips. “Surely, you’ve seen breasts before.”
“Not yours.”
“Never mine.”
“Mmm.” He didn’t let her go, as he sank halfway beneath the water. “You’re the one with your arms around my neck.”
“All the better to throttle you with.”
She didn’t move.
Neither did he.
Marduk’s gaze dropped to her mouth. This was the most destructive idea he’d ever had, but he could feel every inch of her lean form draped over him.
“What are you doing?” she demanded breathlessly.
“What does it look like?” he growled, capturing her chin and leaning down to consume her. “I plan on finishing what we started the other day. I plan on kissing you.”
Solveig froze as Marduk’s lips inched toward hers.
She’d been kissed before. She was no trembling virgin—she’d taken care of that at the age of seventeen with the son of one of her father’s allies. It wasn’t until the morning after, as she tried to extricate herself
from his bed—whilst he professed his undying fervor—that she realized future bedmates needed to be chosen carefully.
No ties.
No clingy, very-protective males.
Female lovers were always far easier to contend with.
But this was the first time she’d allowed a male to make this decision. Unless she was feeling a particular itch, she generally ignored them, and they stayed away.
Aslaug was the one who—
Aslaug.
Solveig shoved her hand between them, her finger pressing into his lips just before they met hers completely. Her heart erupted in a sudden drumming.
“Don’t you dare,” she told him breathlessly. “You’re mating with one of my sisters.”
His eyes met hers. “We both know I’m not mating with either Aslaug or Siv.”
Solveig sucked in a sharp breath. “Well, my sister thinks you are going to choose her!”
“I never, ever gave her a hint I was inclined toward her.”
“Then what about last night? You had your arms around her. I saw you. I saw the both of you.”
He drew back. “She was upset—"
Solveig had a knife in her hand before she knew it. “You will break her heart and I will not let that—”
“I don’t intend to break her heart. I’ve promised her nothing—”
Solveig shoved away from him with a hiss. “Of course you haven’t. A male like you suggests everything and promises nothing, and you’re never the one who wears the catastrophe of your actions. All you do is take what you want, damn the world. Did you ever consider my sister? Did you ever think of how seeing us like this would hurt her?”
“Wait a moment.” Anger painted itself across his face. “I haven’t done anything of the sort. Your sister is kind and a little… intense, but all we’ve done is dine together, and she took me on a walk through the court, showing me the paintings of your ancestors. I haven’t tried to kiss her. I haven’t given her a single hint I’m even thinking of choosing her, and I certainly haven’t—”
“Well, she thinks you are.” Solveig turned and strode from the river. She could barely breathe. Her hand curled around the knife she held. This was all going wrong. Why? Why?