Riveted

by Brook, Meljean

  “I love you, David.”

  Tears glistened in his eye. Then his mouth covered hers, a kiss brimming with hope and joy, and that pushed the rest of the world away.

  He lifted his head. His voice was rough with emotion. “I love you, too.”

  Her heart leapt. “Already? I thought it would take you years.”

  He laughed, nodding, and suddenly she was smiling, laughing, kissing him again. Even Lorenzo’s clearing throat couldn’t dim this happiness. She took David’s hand, led him back to the troll.

  And it was much easier to drive when she wasn’t alone.

  With Lorenzo in the troll with them, she had little opportunity to speak to David before lunch, and then his attention was demanded by Paolo, who had carried in a journal and a survey map. She could not keep her eyes from him as he bent his head over Paolo’s notes.

  He loved her.

  She regarded him with a silly grin until she happened to glance toward Lorenzo. The other man was frowning slightly, which sent a chill through her bones.

  “What are you working on, Father?”

  Paolo didn’t lift his head. David did, his gaze meeting Lorenzo’s, and she’d never before seen his expression so cold. “I asked your father about the project on the peninsula.”

  “It is quite something,” Paolo said. The eagerness lighting his face resembled the same eagerness she’d seen the previous night when he spoke of the moon project. “I’d forgotten how elegant it was, which is likely why it appealed to Stone Kentewess as well. He always said in his designs that the elegance is in the simplicity, and this is, in fact, very simple—though the work might take years.”

  He laughed as if making a joke. Lorenzo’s brow creased.

  “Years?”

  “Oh, yes. We have been looking through my notes all morning. The idea is simple, but there will be much to build.”

  “But you still have to finish the suit.”

  “The suit is done.” Irritation filled his voice. “It has been done.”

  “Then the project is all but done, Father. We have only the final charges to lay.”

  His father suddenly laughed, nodding. “Yes, yes. It will be perfect. It will be ready for me when I’ve finished with this.”

  “You want to put it on hold?” An edge of strain appeared in Lorenzo’s voice. “We are fortunate today that the earthquake did not ruin it all, Father. If we delay, it’s a certainty that something will.”

  “Then let it!” Paolo snapped.

  Surprised by the sudden vehemence, Annika looked to David. He wore a smile she’d never seen before, hard-edged and satisfied. He met her gaze and it changed, warmed.

  “Father.” Lorenzo spoke with the measured tones of someone out of patience with a child. “Anyone can imagine this. If Stone Kentewess did, then anyone can build it. You don’t need to. It’s a small idea.”

  David’s expression didn’t even flicker, as if he didn’t feel the insult to his father. He remained silent.

  Paolo shook his head. “Even small ideas are critical. You cannot calculate the area of a circle without first learning to add two and two. You have only to look at Newton’s journal to see that it is true. All those men who were in a race to answer everything missed the simplest answer of all. I did the same with the mountain at Inoka. I meant to do everything at once: to heal the land, to clean the air, to stop a war. This will be a small step, yet it can still mean so much, count for more. Every little bit helps.”

  “But the moon, Father. A legacy like that would overshadow the mountain. It could repair the di Fiore name, make it a worthy name for Olaf.”

  “Olaf will make his own name. What will you make of it?”

  “I will be the man behind you. The man who always supports his father.”

  “Then support me in this!”

  Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. Silenced. Annika stared in awe, then looked to David. Somehow, he’d done this—and he’d used the most effective weapon against Lorenzo: his father.

  Would he retaliate? Blame David?

  Annika couldn’t guess—but she didn’t think it would be right now. Lorenzo stared at his father as if no other man existed in the world.

  Finally, he nodded. “I promised to help you fulfill your dreams, Father. You can count on me for this.”

  Lorenzo didn’t join her on the next trip to the tunnel. A few words passed between the men, though so low she almost couldn’t hear them under the engine. As they were in Spanish, she couldn’t have understood them, anyway—she was simply glad to hear them.

  She was pleased by everything. David loved her. She loved him, too. They might be soon abandoning this project and leaving the glacier. Lorenzo would be more of a danger, she knew. He would likely want to silence everyone in Vik and at this project so that they couldn’t smear the di Fiore name. But she and David would escape. She had no idea what the future might bring after that. Perhaps she would stay in Smoke Cove while he went on expeditions. It would kill her to be so far apart, but she would wait for his return.

  Or perhaps she could convince him that all of his expeditions needed a troll.

  She was so full of hope. She couldn’t stop dreaming of how it would be with him—not just in bed, though she anticipated that, but beyond the bed, too. Her dreams eased the fear, made the trip to the end of the tunnel pass more quickly.

  The men filed out. Annika stoked the engine. The ice cart needed to be disconnected from the troll, so she tucked a spanner in her belt and dropped through the chest hatch, her mind still on David. The bolts loosened with a few sharp twists. The huffing engine above her drowned out every other sound.

  Except for a crack and a sharp cry of pain.

  Frowning, Annika looked behind her. Near the cart, a man lay on the ground, his arm raised to protect himself. A cube of ice had shattered at his feet. The foreman stood over him, lifting his club again.

  “Stop that!” Annika shouted over the engine, stepped forward. “You stop that now!”

  The foreman looked to Annika. His eyes narrowed. He started toward her.

  Shaking with rage, Annika gripped her spanner as he came closer, all but looming over her. Did he think to intimidate her with his great size? No doubt he meant to make her back down, make her run. He wouldn’t dare hit her.

  He did.

  His arm drew back and struck. Astonishment made her slow. She ducked to the side.

  Pain split through the side of her head.

  Darkness clouded her vision and suddenly receded. Her stomach was churning, her throat sour. When had she fallen to her knees? Her shaking hand fell away from her temple. Blood dripped to the ice floor and froze in crimson dots.

  Giant boots stopped in front of her. Annika looked up, cringed. The foreman was still there, arm raised, poised to strike again.

  He punished for any infraction. But if she stayed down here, maybe she wouldn’t be hit again. Or she could get into the troll, hit him back.

  Or hit him now. Her fingers tightened on the spanner.

  She swung hard. The heavy head smashed into his knee, the impact jolting through her arm. A shout of shock and pain tore through the sound of the huffing troll, the pounding in her ears. His arm came down.

  But he was tall—his arm had a long way to go. She was a rabbit, small and quick, dodging the strike. The club chipped ice from the floor. With both hands, she slammed the spanner’s steel shaft down on his wrist.

  A kick knocked her back, stunned. The spanner skidded away. Panicked, she scrambled for it. A hand grabbed her leg.

  Screaming, Annika curled up and covered her head, waiting for the blow. There was only a thunk! of flesh.

  Then only the huffing.

  Slowly, she raised her arms. The laborer who’d dropped the cube of ice stood over the foreman, a pickaxe in his hands, the point buried in the foreman’s head. With a jerk of his arms, he pulled it out. Blood ran in a river.

  She stared up at him in astonishment. He stared back, his chest heaving. Annika
wasn’t sure who was more surprised.

  But at least she knew one word. “Gracias.”

  Eyes still wide, he nodded.

  Annika scooted away from running blood. Reaction set in like a punch to her chest, her stomach. She rolled over, heaved up her lunch, and knelt there, coughing and gagging. Everyone stared at her—fifty men, all as speechless as she. Annika pushed to her feet and gestured to the troll—but not everyone would fit. She bent for her spanner, moved to connect the carts again.

  Finished, she gestured again. “Get in. I’ll take you all back to camp.”

  A murmur ran through the men. Then the one who’d stopped the foreman stepped forward, shouted, raising his arms and the bloodied pickaxe. The men piled into the troll, the carts.

  Work was done for the day.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Annika had to slow a few times in the tunnel, dizzy with sick nervousness and the cut on her head, but steadied by the time she drove into the sun. The train of carts slid easily behind her troll, crowded with men. She drove straight into the clearing, settled the troll down.

  Annika almost wished that she hadn’t been so quick to leave the driver’s seat when Lorenzo climbed up from the living quarters, frowning at the men in the carts. Some were still looking down. Others met his eyes.

  His gaze froze on her forehead. “What happened? A cave-in?”

  “No. We killed the foreman.”

  He blinked, stepping back to look at the men again, then back at Annika, as if trying to decide who had done it. “How?”

  Pleasure tinged the question, as if he enjoyed the surprise. She didn’t intend to give him any more. “We didn’t bring the body. It’s probably frozen to the tunnel floor now.”

  “I’ll get it. Go on in, have your head looked at.”

  Dismissing her, he turned and spoke to the men. There was nothing more she could do here. She staggered a bit on the steps, but had steadied again by the time she passed through the tunnel and into the hearth room. Paolo and David were still at the table, maps spread across the surface. David glanced up.

  “Jesus Christ.” His chair crashed back, and then he was at her side, his arm around her waist. He steered her to a seat. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Mostly bruised.”

  Paolo appeared beside her with a bowl of steaming water in his hands and a towel. David took the cloth, gently dabbed her forehead.

  “What happened? Did the troll tip?”

  “The foreman clubbed me.”

  David froze. She’d seen him kill a man. She’d never seen him murderous. He spoke a single word, lips peeled back from bared teeth.

  “Where?”

  “He’s already dead. He was hitting one of the men. I yelled at him to stop. He came after me, but I didn’t think he would hit me.”

  Still shaking with rage, he dabbed at the blood again. “But he did.”

  “Yes. I hit him a few times with the spanner. Then one of the men caught him in the head with the pickaxe.”

  “Which one?”

  “I don’t know his name.”

  “I’ll find out. I’m forever in his debt.”

  No need for that. “I already thanked him.”

  “Annika!” Källa paused at the entrance to the snow tunnel, staring at her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you tip the troll?”

  Annika glanced up, met David’s gaze. She had to laugh. He still wasn’t. “No.”

  “The foreman clubbed her,” Paolo supplied.

  Källa sucked in a sharp breath. Her hand clenched, as if around the handle of a sword. “Where is he?”

  Annika only shook her head, then rolled her tongue across the roof of her mouth. The taste of sour and sickness still lingered. “I need to wash.”

  David bent, picked her up, cradling her against his chest.

  “I can walk,” she said.

  “But I need to hold you.”

  She smiled, laid her head against his shoulder. “All right, then.”

  In the bath chamber, Annika rinsed out her mouth. While the tub filled, she dunked her head under the stream of running water, gritting her teeth against the sting in her scalp.

  “It’ll start bleeding again,” David said, a clean towel in hand.

  She pressed her fingers to the cut, looked. Only a little blood. She accepted the towel and pressed it against her head, using her free hand to remove her boots and stockings. After rolling her trousers, she sat in the chair and draped her legs over the edge of the tub, let her feet soak up the heat.

  “We’re leaving tomorrow for Smoke Cove,” David said. When she glanced up at him, eyes wide, he nodded. “Paolo agreed that we should begin working on the other project.”

  She leaned against the back of the chair with a happy sigh. “And he wants you with him, so Lorenzo won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

  “Yes.” He crouched beside her. The crinkle of paper sounded. Her gaze dropped to his hands. “I was saving this.”

  A butter candy. He untwisted the wrapper and slipped it into his mouth. Her breath caught as he rose, moving in for a slow kiss. The candy melted between them, creamy and sweet, and he lingered over her lips long after it had gone. As if reluctant, he finally lifted his head, but remained close, his breath mingling with hers.

  “It’s still perfect,” he said.

  And could be more perfect. She wound her arms around his neck. “If you carry me to our bed.”

  The muscles in his shoulders stiffened. “You’re certain?”

  “I want to.” But still she felt his hesitation. “You don’t?”

  “Oh, yes. But there’s more to consider than that.” His palm covered her belly. “Other consequences.”

  He would be a good father. But he was right. Annika wasn’t yet sure what she’d do next, where she’d go when he finished the project in Smoke Cove. It might be best to wait before having a baby. “Then don’t spend your seed inside me.”

  “There’s still a risk.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Not alone. I’ll take it with you.” He lifted her out of the chair, her bare feet dripping. “A father or not, I’ll be there for you, give you anything you ever need.”

  He’d already given her his love. That was all she needed.

  Her heart pounded with every step. He carried her through the snow tunnel, ducking into the chamber. She couldn’t look away from the bed. The lamp burned low, dancing shadows across the ice walls. He eased down with her, no candy between them now, but the kiss just as sweet.

  He paused to look at her, his hand shaking as he caressed her cheek. Then his mouth was on hers again until she was panting, breathless. Her head fell back and his lips trailed the length of her neck, wringing a moan from her throat. Big palms cupped her breasts, fingers teasing the peaks into aching hardness. Oh, he’d learned her body so quickly.

  She pulled the hem of her tunic up and over her head. Cool air kissed her nipples, drawing gooseflesh and a shiver over her skin.

  His tongue traced the curve of her breast, flicked across her nipple, and she shuddered again.

  “Too cold?”

  “No.” Inside, she was burning.

  “Do you want the light on?”

  “It makes no difference. I just imagine you over me.”

  He nodded, kissed the tip of her breast before sitting back. With his gaze on hers, he reached for his collar, dragged his shirt off over his head.

  Oh. She hadn’t imagined him perfectly, but near to. Her fingers had already traveled the corrugated muscle of his abdomen, the hard planes of his chest. His runes gathered in the hollow of his throat, swinging away from his skin as he leaned forward, tossing the shirt across their trunk. Strong collarbones supported broad shoulders. Muscles bunched in his upper arms, leaving a smooth meld from flesh to steel above his hinged elbow.

  Her gaze rose to his again, and she saw the vulnerability there. He’d made this effort. She’d offer honesty
in return.

  “I knew that prosthetic was well made, and thought I might stare at it in appreciation. But, David, it hardly compares to the rest. I don’t know if I’ll be able to take my eyes off any of you.”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I’m brave enough to show you the rest.”

  “I wouldn’t care if you never did.” She bit her lip. “No, that is a lie. I want to see this.”

  She stroked her hand down the front of his trousers, found him hard and ready. He stiffened and groaned in response.

  “May I look now?” She was utterly a wolf.

  “Yes.”

  By touch, she unbuckled the waist, watching his expression. His smile was teasing, his gaze hot.

  “You won’t see it if you’re looking at my face.”

  “If it keeps growing, it will be tall enough to pop up between us.”

  His body shook on a laugh. She grinned, glanced down. Oh. She’d imagined this, too, but not everything. Fine black hair arrowed down from his navel and thickened at the base of his shaft. His heavy length overfilled her two hands, his testicles a firm weight in her palm. Tight skin stretched over the head—and had been so silky against her tongue, salty and slick. Her fingers closed around him.

  David sucked a sharp breath. “No, Annika. I want to last inside you.”

  This time. She let go, spreading his trousers farther open and back over his rigid buttocks, exposing ridges of muscle than ran in a V from his lean hips to his groin. Annika moaned, her body clenching as she realized: all of that strength would be behind his long shaft, driving into her.

  Then David was over her again, his lips on her breast a shock of heat after the cool air. Annika cried out, her back arching as he sucked her nipple deep into his mouth. Bracing his weight on one hand, he slipped the other down over her stomach, beneath her waistband. His fingers found her wet.

  With a rough groan, he shoved her trousers down. Her drawers went with them. Even as Annika kicked them free of her ankles, his hand slid between her legs. Two long fingers sank deep. Oh, but this time she wanted more. His hand thrust against her. Her hips jerked into a desperate roll.

  She gripped his shoulders. “David. Please, David.”