Storm of Desire

by Bec McMaster

  She bit her lip, reaching up to twist her hand through his hair. "Come for me."

  A hand speared down her soft belly, slicing unmercifully through her curls, and pressing exactly where she liked it.

  "You first."

  A second wave of pleasure overwhelmed her. Árdís lost herself in the wake of it, feeling his body jerk as his own pleasure overtook him. Teeth sank into the muscle of her shoulder, and Haakon grunted softly as he came.

  I've missed this.

  I've missed you.

  She fell forward onto her hands again as he gasped and ground himself within her one last time.

  The pair of them collapsed onto the bedroll, Haakon melting over her. His chest heaved, and his weight forced her into the blankets. Not unpleasantly. Árdís shuddered as her body kept clenching, little shivers of aftershock lighting along her nerves.

  He withdrew in a wet gush of seed, and fell beside her, dragging her back into his arms. Árdís's hips ached, but she drew her knees together and curled her arm over his, pressing a kiss to the smattering of blond hairs along his arm.

  If she'd hadn't been exhausted before, she was now.

  A soft laugh shuddered through her. "I finally concede. You've destroyed me."

  He rolled her onto her back, leaning over her. Panting. She'd quite forgotten the storm outside, but lightning flashed again, highlighting the stark ridges of his face. In that moment, he wasn't hiding anything, and she saw it painted across his face in a mixture of raw pain, hope, and something else.

  Longing.

  Árdís sucked in a sharp breath, her fingertips pressing gently against the stubble on his cheeks. She was grateful the world fell into darkness again, for her eyes were flushed with sudden heat.

  "Best get some rest."

  "Why?" she whispered.

  His hand slid between the skin of her breasts, and she sensed him leaning closer, as he bent to kiss her throat ever so gently. "Because tonight is our last night together. And I plan on taking advantage of every single moment of it."

  The fire crackled in the grate, and the smell of roasting meat made her mouth water. Árdís dragged her boots on, her body a mess of heated bruises and bite marks.

  She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the ache of the loss of the ring still. It felt like something was missing. A piece of her, perhaps.

  But... she'd somehow been able to hand it over.

  She'd been physically incapable of throwing it away for years. Haakon had demanded its return and she couldn't even give it to him.

  The heat of blood draining from her face made her lips tingle. You are mated. She felt like that bell was ringing in her ears again.

  You are linked somehow, but there is a chasm between where your souls touch.

  I'm not talking of his odor, you foolish kit....

  What did he mean?

  Could it be? Had she somehow imprinted upon Haakon? Started forming a mating bond with him years ago, but never finished it?

  The stormy afternoon slipped by in a burst of lovemaking and sleep, the questions haunting her. Haakon had left at some stage, and only returned hours later, shaking the water from his oiled cloak as he slicked back his hair and delivered dinner.

  "Dare I ask where you found a goat?" She settled beside him at the grate, tucking herself against his side and resting her head on his chest, as he turned the makeshift spit.

  "It was tethered out in the middle of a rocky plain."

  "A tithe for Fáfnir." Some of the villagers in Iceland had arrangements with the local dreki, to keep their livestock safe. "He's not going to be happy."

  "Good."

  He offered her a joint, and Árdís picked at the meat hungrily with her blunt teeth. She hadn't been eating enough since she'd been trapped in this mortal form. While her energy requirements weren't as significant as the dreki's, she still needed to consume more than she had been.

  Her stomach grumbled as she licked at her fingers. Haakon sliced another piece of goat for her, and offered it to her on the flat of his blade, their eyes meeting. Árdís leaned forward to take it from the blade, her teeth closing carefully around the meat.

  "Are you trying to tempt me again?"

  "Is it working?"

  The faintest of smiles curled the corner of his mouth up. "Always. Despite my best intentions, despite the past." His eyes filled with sudden shadows. "Despite the future."

  His face shuttered.

  The past. The future. All of it knotted into one tangled web she didn't think she could ever undo.

  "I never wanted to hurt you."

  The words were raw, stripped from her soul. In them, she could hear the quivering loss of all those years, all those moments when she'd been alone and hollow, and wished she could reach for him, just once.

  It was only in his arms that she'd ever felt whole. Or safe.

  And he stopped talking.

  Stopped breathing, in fact.

  But he was listening, as if he sensed the sudden shift in the air between them.

  And suddenly it all seemed to want to spill from her. Every last damning word. Every dark secret. Árdís curled her fingers into her palms. She didn't dare. This was only the lingering aftereffect of passion. He'd brought her undone in so many more ways than merely the physical.

  "Let's not think of the future tonight. Or the past." Árdís leaned up to kiss his cheek, before easing back onto her bottom. "Please."

  He'd refused to kiss her on the mouth, and she didn't dare push for it.

  One night. Those were the terms she'd set herself.

  And if it hurt, then it was her own damned fault.

  Haakon sat stiffly, as if he knew she'd been on the verge of confessing, and had chosen cowardice instead. But he looked away, staring into the flames, his fingers toying idly with the fabric covering his knee. "As you wish."

  Just like that, the moment was gone.

  "You've lost weight," he muttered.

  "It happens."

  Such inconsequential words. Safe, nothing words.

  Árdís ate swiftly, ignoring the long, slow looks he gave her, as he fed her more and more of the delicious meat. Eating it from his knife and hand felt somehow intimate. As if he needed to provide for her. Protect her.

  "Why didn't you tell me you were hungry?" A faint frown crossed his brow. "You always had an appetite, but it didn't seem as strong back in Viksholm."

  "It was, but I hunted," she admitted. "When you were working the fields, or away. I managed to keep the worst of the hunger at bay, and your mother always fed me."

  Because she wanted me to be fit and strong enough to bear your children.

  Suddenly, her appetite vanished.

  Árdís wiped her fingers clean on the rag Haakon handed to her. She was recognized as an adult in the dreki world, but she'd never felt the press of the mating urge before. And it wasn't as though she'd hoped. Birthing a drekling would have been catastrophic for both her and the child, but sometimes when his mother had spoken of grandchildren, she'd felt this peculiar twisting deep inside. She was seventy years old, and few dreki females had ever felt the mating urge so young.

  Haakon would have been an old man before she'd ever have delivered him a child. If they were bonded, he'd age as she would, but they weren't. Even time seemed to weigh against them.

  "What's wrong?" he asked, clearly seeing it on her face.

  "Nothing," she said sharply, and pushed to her feet. All of a sudden she couldn't handle this idle conversation. This nothingness. Guilt weighed so heavily upon her. "I need some fresh air. Perhaps dinner disagreed with me."

  Stumbling out into the darkness, she paused at the edge of the river they were camped by. She would have stolen his future from him—the joy of having a family—if she'd stayed with him. Within a handful of years, his mother's gentle good wishes would have become a little sharper.

  And she couldn't have borne seeing the eventual disappointment in his eyes.

  She'd never felt lonelier in he
r entire life.

  The door to the hut creaked as Haakon followed her. The rain had slackened into a fine mist, and she turned her face to the sky so he'd hopefully think the tears in her eyes were just that. Rain.

  "You're upset."

  "No, I'm not," she whispered.

  "I swear you would say the sky was green, if I said it was blue." He made a growling sound deep in his throat as he joined her. "Do me the courtesy of presuming I know you."

  "Do you?"

  "Yes," he said shortly. "I do."

  Cool wind blew past both of them. She had no words. Everything she wanted to say caught within her throat. And if she let a single word out, she was frightened more would follow. A spill of emotion she couldn't contain. Being in his arms had broken down her defenses too far.

  "Here." Haakon slipped the enormous wolf fur cloak from his shoulders. He draped it around hers, and Árdís couldn't help snuggling into the heated folds.

  She could scent him in the fur, and turned her nose into the collar to breathe it in, like a guilty thief.

  She wanted to press her face there, to drink in the heat left from his body. To cling to something she'd thought long lost.

  "Something's gotten into you tonight." Slowly, his hands drew the cloak closed, and he pushed the pin through it to hold it in place. His knuckles rested there, holding the cloak. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I wasn't gentle, but I tried...."

  "Of course not."

  Her head reached almost to his chin.

  If she lifted up onto her toes, and he bent his face down, their lips might meet. She wanted that kiss so badly.

  The night seemed so quiet around them. They were alone out here, miles from anywhere. And the gathering darkness seemed to wrap around them like some sort of conspiratorial cocoon, tempting her to whisper her secret confidences.

  "It's not...."

  He waited.

  "I...."

  Soft hands cupped her face, slowly lifting her eyes to his. Haakon stroked her cheeks with both thumbs. "I was angry before, because I thought you were throwing everything away. No. I thought you were throwing me away. I didn't understand."

  "It's just a ring," she said swiftly.

  It's not the ring, you fool. It was never the ring.

  She'd finally figured out what she'd been holding on to so tightly. She'd never dared give in to her feelings for him, so she'd somehow transferred that to the ring. If it belonged to her, then there was a part of him with her at all times. But now it was gone, and then he would vanish too, and she'd be left with nothing.

  It hurt. It hurt so badly.

  Árdís slowly looked up, feeling the truth unfurl within her, like a flower blooming. She'd never stopped loving him.

  She never would.

  "I would have ruined you," she blurted, "if I'd stayed."

  Haakon's eyes, dark in the night, sharpened intently.

  "Did you think leaving hurt me any less?"

  No. She'd made an utter mess of it all. Pressing her hands to his to hold them there, she shook her head.

  "I'm so sorry. For everything." The words tore free from her. "I should never have married you. I knew that. I always knew that. And I'm sorry I didn't have the strength of will to walk away before things grew too far. It was too late by the time I realized what was happening. I didn't want to hurt you. I couldn't see any way not to."

  "You could have told me."

  "What?" Her voice sharpened. "That you had married a dreki princess who could never give you children? That she would never grow old, while you did." If he'd grown old. If he'd escaped the vengeance of her mother. "I brought you into a world you didn't belong in, and I did it carelessly. I didn't think of the consequences."

  I didn't want to think.

  For you were everything.

  Somehow she was still cold, even within the cloak. Árdís tore away from him and wrapped her arms around her waist, but he wasn't going to allow that. Arms wrapped around her, drawing her back into a warm embrace. Árdís finally let the tears slip down her face, crying silently as he held her.

  "You couldn't give me children?" he asked hoarsely.

  She slumped against him. "It's rare that a dreki female goes into heat so young."

  "But not impossible?"

  She didn't want to give either of them any false hope. "Not impossible, no. But such children would never be welcomed in my world. They'd feel the call of their fellow dreki, a siren song on the winds, but they'd never be accepted."

  "Árja." He turned her in his arms.

  He'd wanted to give her children. But she'd always smiled and shrugged, and changed the conversation when he brought it up. He'd thought it was because she was young, and they were so newly married, and she'd never dared enlighten him.

  "It wouldn't have mattered, if I'd had you. And if it had happened, then I would have taken that as a blessing. If not, I would have loved you anyway."

  She pressed her closed fists against his chest.

  "You would have been enough—"

  "Please don't." She buried her face against his chest, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. "I just wanted you to know." Her voice held the desolation of all those lost years. "That I never meant to hurt you. I never meant any of it. But we could never be together and it broke my heart to leave you."

  A hand stirred through her hair, clasping her against him, and that only made it harder.

  She didn't deserve his forgiveness.

  "We only have tonight," she whispered hoarsely, lifting her tearstained face to his. "I don't want to waste a single second of it on tears."

  Clasping his cheek, she pressed her mouth to his, begging for his kiss.

  And this time he gave it to her, burning away all the sadness as he lifted her up into his arms, her legs around his hips, and strode back inside the hut.

  15

  One more day. Árdís curled her arms around Haakon as they rode north, feeling quiet and subdued. She was beginning to hate the silences that fell between them, as if neither of them dared break it.

  One more day and she'd be free of the cursed manacle. One more day and he'd be on his ship, sailing away from her forever. Safe. No longer plagued by the machinations of dreki.

  And she only felt utterly hollow at the thought.

  What if she was right? What if she had somehow begun to mate with him? She couldn't feel any link herself, especially not with the manacle on, but what if this was it?

  Don't be selfish. She squeezed her eyes shut. Haakon deserved a long and happy life, even if it cut her heart out of her chest to see him walk away from her.

  Just when she thought she couldn't stand it anymore, a dreki's bugle suddenly cut through the air.

  Árdís looked up, and Haakon stiffened as if he felt the tension radiate through her. This was not quite what she'd had in mind when she'd wanted an end to the oppressive silence.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "Shh."

  "Did you hear something?"

  If she narrowed her eyes, she could just make out the bat-like wings of something passing through the sun. It flickered, and then vanished into a bank of clouds. Dread shivered through her, all of the hairs on the back of her neck lifting.

  Too late.

  "I think we've been spotted," she said, hunting for it through the clouds. A feeling of horror twisted deep inside her abdomen.

  Haakon reined Sleipnir in, and the enormous bay snorted. "A dreki?"

  "At least one." Hopefully, just a scout. "How far is it to this svartálfar's village?"

  "At least five miles."

  "We could make it." Maybe.

  Haakon's neck twisted as he surveyed the area. "Wasn't it you who said you could cover that much ground in minutes?"

  "Run," she pleaded. "If we find a town—or a village even—then we have a chance. Dreki are bound by the oath Fáfnir swore at the Althing. We cannot harm humans, not unless they attack us first, or we risk breaking that oath."

  "Bloody hell, Árdís
, that was over a thousand years ago!"

  He booted Sleipnir into a canter.

  "It was barely sixteen cycles, as we measure time," she retorted, grabbing hold of his waist. "It wasn't that long ago to the dreki. And while my mother doesn't care to play by all the rules, she cannot afford to break that one, or she risks the censure of all the dreki in Iceland. They'll have to change into their mortal forms if they enter the village, and we might be able to lose them."

  Haakon muttered something under his breath that even her sharp ears couldn't catch. Then he began to rein the horses in.

  A cry of pure delight rang out, sending a chill down Árdís's spine.

  That cry said: Yes, run. Give me a good hunt.

  And then a second one answered it.

  "There are two of them." She raked her gaze through the skies as hope died. Maybe they could outrun one, but not two dreki. She caught a flash of shadow moving slightly behind the clouds, as if to surprise them with its presence. "No, three! Haakon!"

  "We're not going to run, Árdís. We'll never make it in time, and that's what they want. I just needed to find defensible ground. Here," he said, hauling Sleipnir to a halt. "We make a stand here."

  A pile of rocks loomed, looking like the sort trolls might hide beneath. They guarded the top of a small hill, which would give them some shelter, though when the predator was in the skies, she doubted the good it would do. Haakon offered her a hand down, before he swung from the saddle, tethering both horses.

  Above them, the three dreki began to circle like vultures.

  "You're not the only one with a few tricks up their sleeves," Haakon said coolly.

  "Oh, you have some mysterious weapon that can bring down a full-grown dreki?"

  "As a matter of fact...."

  Haakon hauled a large leather-wrapped bundle from the back of the horse and tore the buckled straps open. A strange crossbow-like shape emerged, and Haakon snapped the limbs open, sliding several metal pieces into place.

  "You're not seriously thinking you can bring one of them down with an arrow?" Árdís saw the answer on his face. "It wouldn't even penetrate their hide!"

  "Not an arrow." He unwrapped the other side of the leather roll and revealed exactly what he intended. "I told you. I hunt dragons for a living now."