The Winter Bear's Bride (Dubious Book 2)

by Mina Carter

  “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” he demanded, looming over his bride.

  She looked up, her expression a calm mask in the face of his anger. “My lord?”

  He grabbed her by the upper arms, ignoring her wince. “Don’t you fucking ‘my lord’ me! You know exactly what I mean,” he growled and raked her slender form with a hard gaze.

  Already she was chilled to the bone, her body trembling as the cold tried to claim her. Her lips were turning white and the slippers on her feet were soaked through by the snow. He should put her from him. She’d chosen this path to turn her back on her clan and come out into the snow, so he should make her walk back to the encampment as she was. It would fucking serve her right.

  His fingers wouldn’t release. Instead, he hauled her closer. There was no gentleness in his touch now. That was over, had been over the moment she’d thrown his goodwill back in his face. He knew his expression was murderous, but didn’t do anything to alter it as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

  “Was it worth it, my lady?” His whisper was rough, with a dangerous edge, and she shivered in his hold. The scent of fear rolled from her skin, making him feel like a shit, but he ignored it. She should feel fear; she’d brought this on herself.

  “W-worth what?” Her lip almost trembled, but she kept her cool, pulling back as far in his hold as she could to meet his gaze. He could snap her like a twig, but still she stood up to him. Admiration filled him, which only fuelled the anger filling his veins. He didn’t want to admire her. She was a traitorous bitch, who’d used his goodwill toward her against him.

  He smiled, little more than a feral parting of his lips to show his teeth, as he pulled her forward, hand hard on the back of her head to whisper, “Was fucking me over worth it?” His lips brushed her ear, and she jumped.

  Anger turned to lust and he fisted his hand in the back of her hair and pulled her head back. He crashed his mouth down over hers in hard demand. There was nothing soft about his kiss as he pried her lips apart with his tongue. Her soft whimper was lost in his mouth as he plundered hers. He slid his tongue past her lips in thrusts that mimicked what he wanted to do to her with his cock.

  Not the love making he’d planned before he’d realized the depths she’d stoop to to get her own way, but simple fucking. He would take her, own her, possess every part of her before the night was out. He would know her in every way a man could know a woman—his rage would accept nothing less.

  He broke the kiss to glare down at her. “I hope it was worth it because you’re going to pay for it later…in my bed.”

  ****

  “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  Analise had known her stunt would anger Scar, but she’d told herself that she could handle it. That the needs of her people outweighed whatever would happen to her. After all, he wouldn’t kill her…and she didn’t think he was the type of man to beat his wife.

  Stealing a glance from under her lashes, she studied the brooding man next to her. He’d gone from the dangerous bad boy who set her body on fire, but stopped when she asked him, into a brooding lethality that stole the strength from her knees. As he turned toward her, his dark eyes held no expression, no nothing and she realized she really knew nothing about him. She had no idea how he would react to her duplicity.

  Real fear danced along her spine as he leaned down to kiss her, and she couldn’t help it when her body tensed. Their kiss earlier, when he’d… It hadn’t been a kiss. He’d laid claim to her with his mouth as surely as he would take her body later this night. It had been a branding, an intent of ownership as close to tumbling her to the snow-covered ground and fucking her as it could be without actually doing it.

  His lips covered hers and she shivered, her heart aching for the smiling Scar who’d cornered her in the hold garden. Unbidden, her fingers curled around the edges of his jerkin, but the touch was over almost before she’d registered, and he stepped away. He didn’t let her get far, though, a hard arm looping around her waist to keep her by his side as he turned to the audience massed behind them.

  The Einar stronghold turned out to be that of a clan long dead, the Magnhild. She remembered coming here as a child and wondering at the people who had once lived here before they’d fallen afoul of the Bear-Clan Elder. Now the ruined walls had been shored up, the roofs had been repaired and lights twinkled from the windows.

  “Congratulations, Alpha!”

  “Welcome the lord and his lady!”

  Shouts of congratulation followed them as they walked through the crowds, Scar stopping to shake hands and laugh and joke with his people. His dangerous look disappeared as he did, her new husband appearing at ease and happy. Until he turned back to her at the door and the coldness returned to his features.

  He offered his arm without a word, leading her into the the hall. Welcome heat hit her and she shivered in relief. Despite Scar’s own cloak wrapped around her, she’d still felt the bite of the cold outside and her feet were frozen.

  People piled in after them, filling the seats at the tables as Scar led her silently to the top table. Two heavily carved chairs sat there, one slightly smaller than the other. The chairs of a clan leader and his wife.

  “Your prize,” he murmured as he seated her, flopping down into the chair next to her and motioning for a servant to fill his tankard.

  Analise shivered, sliding his cloak from her shoulders and slipping the wet shoes from her feet as the festivities began.

  Over the next few hours, drink flowed as mountains of food were devoured. The top table was served sumptous roast meats and vegetables, then beautiful desserts. But, her stomach in knots, Analise couldn’t manage more than a few mouthfuls. It seemed like everything she ate turned to dust in her mouth. None of Scar’s people spoke to her, and even the servants avoided making eye contact. There were furtive glances her way from the guests and whispered conversations. Ignoring them, she picked up her wine goblet.

  “You needn’t think that getting drunk will save you,” came a low voice from beside her, the first time Scar had spoken to her since the ceremony. “Insensible or not, I will have you tonight.”

  Risking a glance sideways, she found him watching her, chin supported by two knuckles and his big body seemingly relaxed. She knew that was an act. Tension virtually vibrated from his skin, the potential for bloody and brutal violence hanging in the air and his dark eyes like midnight itself.

  “I don’t. I’m not looking to be saved.” Her voice was reasonably level and thankfully didn’t break. Lifting her chin, she held eye contact. “I know I made you angry—”

  “Angry?!” He sat forward in an explosion of movement, his hand snapping out to grip her at the back of her neck and yank her toward him. She squeaked, hands on the arm of her chair to avoid her ribs being slammed against it.

  He smiled, his scar twisting his lips into a snarl. For the first time, it scared her. “Oh you have no idea, my lady.”

  With those words, he rose, pulling her to her feet. She didn’t fight him, old lessons kicking in. Her heart thundered in her chest as he pushed her in front of him, hand around the back of her neck and fingers curled over her collarbone. No one looked at them as they left the room, and soon the sound of revelry was behind them.

  The silence ate at her nerves as he led her through darkened corridors. He didn’t say anything and that made it worse. Her steps faltered on the steps as he pushed her ahead of him up a winding staircase toward the lord’s chambers.

  “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered under his breath and scooped her up into his arms.

  Shivering with a more than the cold, she tried not to curl into him. He hated her, and if she’d learned anything as her father’s daughter, it was not to show weakness to someone who hated her. So she held her body rigid in his arms and wished more than anything in the world that she could go back and find another way. Change what she’d done. Her great plan to cheat him out of his prize, the Elder’s c
hair, seemed stupid now. He could just go back to war and decimate the clans. All she’d done was piss him off and ensure herself a life of misery as wife to a man who hated her. She closed her eyes for a moment as her throat grew thick and tight. No change there then. She’d just swapped her father for a man just as bad.

  He paused in front of a door, and she opened her eyes as he shouldered his way through it, the heavy wood no match for his strength. Candles lit the large chamber, and she got a fleeting glimpse of tapestries on the walls and a fireplace to the right before her attention was caught by the bed opposite. A huge four poster loaded with soft-looking furs, it was big enough for at least four warriors. Images of him in there, naked, with a throng of women around him assaulted her, and she shut her eyes tightly, trying to dispel the image. The rumors said he debauched women, taking two or three at a time. A lover and a fighter with a dangerous temper.

  He set her on her feet, stripping his shirt off as he strode across the room. The leather hit a chair in the darkness, and he turned, hands already on his belt.

  “Undress and get on the bed.” His soft words weren’t a suggestion, they were an order. His dark eyes glittered in the firelight, one side of his face shadowed. Even halfway across the room he seemed huge, and her nerve almost failed her.

  “Please, my lord.” She took a step forward, hand outstretched. “Let me apologize. I don’t want to start our married life like this.”

  He unbuckled his belt, sliding the leather from the loops on his pants with a sensuous whisper. The words dried up in her throat as he coiled it in his hands. Would he beat her? She couldn’t help her half step backward before she stopped herself. Lifted her chin.

  “If you need to…” Her voice failed her for a moment as her gaze flickered from his face to the belt in his hand.

  “If I need to what?” he growled, then followed her gaze with his. The bark of laughter made her jump. “If I need to beat you? Oh, no, my lady, I have something far different in mind.”

  He threw the belt on the chair behind him to join his shirt and started to unbutton his pants. “If you’re not naked on that bed by the time I’m done, I’ll rip that gown from you. Go.”

  Chapter Seven

  Oh God, he wouldn’t? Stunned into silence, she watched him unbutton one, then another of the buttons before she realized she was just standing there in the middle of the floor, watching him. Watching the play of the firelight over his golden skin, the red flecks it uncovered in his dark-as-midnight hair.

  Then he flicked the last of the buttons free and moved toward her. Spurred into action, she squeaked and started for the bed. Nerveless fingers fought with the fasteners at her bodice to no avail. She couldn’t make her hands work and within seconds she felt the heat of his body against her back and froze.

  Hard hands on her upper arms spun her around and she found herself crushed against his chest as he glared down at her, eyes blazing.

  “Out of time, my lady,” he taunted, then crushed her lips beneath his.

  She tried to hold out, honestly she did. Standing impassively, she told herself that he could have her body, but that would be all. He’d never have a hold on her heart or her soul. Her body would heal from whatever damage he inflicted, eventually, but her heart—her soul—if she let him in, he would destroy her.

  His lips worked hers, over and back. The slick heat of his tongue brushed against hers, reminding her of their previous kisses, what it felt like to be held in his strong embrace and the pleasure his touch could bring. She felt herself weakening. He was her husband; in the eyes of their world, she belonged to him. Heat filled her veins. He could do what he liked with her, to her…and she’d let him.

  As though sensing her weakness, he pressed his advantage, hauling her up against his hard-muscled body. His lips broke from hers to whisper against them. “You’re mine, Analise. I told you I would have you and I will. You agreed to come to me willingly. If I gain nothing else from this marriage because of your plots, I will have your surrender.”

  He kissed her again, cutting off any reply she might have made. Hard lips dominated hers as his hands swept over her body. One flattened over the back of her hips, holding her in place as the other reached between them and hooked into the neckline of her gown. His kiss made her so dizzy that she didn’t realize what was coming next.

  Without lifting his mouth from hers, he tore open the ribbons holding her dress together down the front and, when she gasped, thrust his tongue past her lips. Stroked her tongue and thrust again. Mimicked the act to follow as he pushed her gown from her shoulders. It caught on her hips for a moment, but then fell to the floor.

  Air washed over her exposed skin and she couldn’t stop the shiver that rolled through her body. The thin shift she wore beneath her gown was no protection against the cooler air of the room or against the fire of his gaze as he broke the kiss and looked down at her. Heat blazed, burning out the cold look that had been there before.

  Without a word, he urged her backward onto the bed, following her down and crawling over her in a move that was more feline than the were-polar she knew him to be. Her breath caught in her throat at the sheer sensuality of the move. Before she could move, though, he was over her, hands either side of her head as he braced himself.

  “S—”

  He shook his head, cutting off her words, and her jaw snapped shut.

  “Mine.”

  His words were a growl as he bent his head to kiss her again. His hair brushed her cheeks, surprisingly soft, but his lips were anything but. At his demand, she opened for him and moaned as he deepened the kiss. The need to touch him overwhelmed her, and she reached out hesitantly, wary for his reaction. Would he welcome her touch?

  Her fingertips brushed his skin, and he groaned against her lips. Emboldened by his reaction, she flattened both her palms against his chest, spreading her fingers to touch him.

  He nipped her lower lip, catching it lightly between his teeth for a moment. Pleasure coursed through her body, a weakness that swept from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her hands smoothed down his chest, then farther, her fingers running over the ripples of his tensed abdomen.

  He released her lip with a groan.

  “Touch me.” It wasn’t an order; it was a plea. One from the depths of his soul. “Snow’s sake, Analise, touch me.”

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded and slid her hands lower. Heat hit her cheeks like she’d been standing in front of a fire for hours, but it didn’t matter. He was Scar, the most dangerous bear in the Arctic Circle…and she had him at her mercy.

  Her fingertips reached the loose edges of his pants, the backs of her fingers brushing something hot and silky. She jumped, but he was already there. Braced on one arm, he caught one of her hands to wrap it around the thick shaft of his cock.

  Her eyes widened. He was huge, far bigger than she’d thought. Sudden fear hit her. Would it even fit? He was so much bigger than she was. His hand tightened on hers, moving it up and down his cock, and he groaned, his expression tight.

  “Fuck, that feels good. So good.”

  His hand dropped away, but she kept hers where it was. Touching him, stroking him. She grew bolder and swept her thumb over the wide head. It came away slick and wet.

  “Witch,” he breathed, spearing her with a hot look. “You’ve ensnared me. How did you do that?”

  She shook her head, letting go of him. “I haven’t done anything.”

  “You did. And now it’s my turn.” His big hand smoothed over her thigh, catching the shift and smoothing it against her skin. “This is in the way.”

  Holding her gaze, he reached up and hooked his fingers in the neckline. With a sharp movement, he tore it clean down the middle, baring her to his gaze. Instinctively, she tried to cover up, but his low growl stopped her.

  “Beautiful.”

  It was just the one word, but one that seemed ripped unwillingly from the depths of his soul. Before she’d fully realized what he’d said, he bent his h
ead and wrapped his tongue around her nipple. The hot, wet rasp made her gasp and reach for him, her nails digging into his shoulder. He didn’t stop there. He paid homage to her breasts, licking and nibbling around her sensitive nipples before, finally, taking one into his mouth to suck.

  She whimpered, her back arching as any self-consciousness disappeared under the need and heat hitting her broadside. Nothing mattered any more. All that mattered was he carried on what he was doing. Big hands curled around her ribcage, holding her in place, her breasts offered up to his mouth. He moved from one to the other until she moaned and writhed beneath him.

  Letting go, he slid down the bed. She couldn’t help pouting at the loss of his talented lips and tongue on her breasts, but stilled as he parted her legs to slide between them. His shoulders were so broad he could barely fit, nudging her thighs wide. Spreading her wide for his heated gaze.

  “My lord?” She bit her lip, shifting uncomfortably. There was something wrong with her…he didn’t find her attractive enough.

  “Mine,” he growled and licked her.

  “Ooooh!” Her hips came off the bed at the sensation. Warm, rough, wet…the feel of his tongue against her lower lips was like nothing she’d ever felt before. He rumbled, the sound a vibration against her, and she whimpered. The touch of his fingers was nothing compared to his clever lips and tongue.

  He parted her folds and found the tiny bundle of pleasure hidden there to play with. He licked over and back in long, slow strokes, before flicking rapidly. Pleasure built up in her core and she clutched at the sheets, trying to ground herself. It was no good. With every lick, every deep growl, he pushed her higher and higher.

  “My lord…” She couldn’t stay still no matter how much she tried. Her hips rocked against his mouth, searching for, needing more sensation. One more stroke of his tongue, or the warmth of his mouth as he suckled her.

  He pulled away, and she keened softly, feeling the loss of his heat.