The Gathering Storm

by Varna, Lucy

  A slow smile found its way into her expression. “Indeed, he is.”

  “Maybe you should, ah, you know.” He shrugged and a hint of pink rose in his cheeks. “Be nice to him. I mean, the way you were with me.”

  “I am doing my best,” she assured him, then turned matters away from the personal onto work, marveling the whole while about the transformation one simple conversation had had in George’s demeanor.

  Chapter Eleven

  As Will had suspected, it was a long week. By Friday, he was ready for some rest and relaxation, or at least another night with Sigrid, just him and her and some alone time. Every waking moment had been dedicated to either his duties at The Omega or his duties to the People.

  Except when he could sneak away for a dance. That was something he’d made time for every single night, and looked forward to doing again. Holding Sigrid, even on a crowded dance floor, made every day a little brighter.

  She’d asked him to spend the night with her.

  He shuffled last year’s receipts into a folder and stacked them with the other paperwork headed to The Omega’s accountant. Telling Sigrid no had been the hardest thing he’d done in months, harder even than watching her across the room back when she had no clue he even existed.

  But it had been the right thing to do. Between her job and his, the time just hadn’t seemed right for them to make that leap. Tonight, though, he was going to float it by her, real casual, so she wouldn’t suspect how much he wanted to make love to her, then hold her as they slept.

  He rubbed a palm over the twang in his heart. Maybe it was too soon, but hell with that. He wanted her too much to let the doubts lingering in his mind stand between them.

  A soft knock hit the door to his office. He flipped his hand over, checked the time on the watch strapped to his wrist, and grunted. It was past time for him to be out on the floor. He could spare five minutes for the person in the hallway, then he needed to head out and spell whoever was due for a break next.

  The knock came again. Will stood and called, “Come in.”

  Chana opened the door and stood there, poised in the middle of the doorway, looking more like a model for traditional Persian dress than the fierce warrior she was. “Do you have a few moments?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I wish to speak to you on a matter of some import.” She shut the door, glided across the room, and stopped in front of him. Her dark eyes glinted as she glanced up at him through a fringe of nearly black lashes, coy and enticing and lovely. “Your grandmother has granted me permission to court you, should this be your desire.”

  Will stared down at her, too stumped by the forthright delivery to muster a response.

  “My own mother has bid me to seek alliances here in the West.” She placed her narrow hands on his chest and leaned into him, suffusing him with the faint touch of an exotic perfume. Laughter tinkled out of her, as graceful as everything else about her. “That sounds so cold, does it not?”

  He managed a smile for her. “Just a little.”

  “I am not a cold woman, Will Corbin.”

  “Never thought you were.” He wrapped his hands gently around her upper arms, mindful of the silk jacket she wore, this one a deep yellow, and of the delicacy of rejecting a Daughter’s advances. “Look, I—”

  The door swung open, cutting him off, and Sigrid stepped into the room. He jerked away from Chana, but not before the smile Sigrid wore morphed into a hard, expressionless mask.

  He held out a hand to her, staving off whatever storm was brewing. “Wait, Sigrid. It’s not what it looks like, I swear.”

  “What does it look like?” She closed the door behind herself, far too softly for his peace of mind. “I came to speak with my lover and find him holding another woman.”

  “Not holding,” he said, at the same time Chana said, “Lover?”

  “Yes, lover,” Sigrid said.

  Chana glanced at Will out of the corners of her beautiful eyes. “Is this true?”

  “Yeah, it is,” he said.

  “You are mated, then.”

  “Not exactly.” He raked his fingers through his hair, hooked his hands on his waist. “I was about to tell you that I’m sort of already spoken for.”

  “Sort of?” Chana’s gaze cut to Sigrid. “Yet your grandmother seemed willing enough to entertain my suit.”

  Will winced. Nothing he could say to that. Anya had made her preferences clear, and wherever his grandmother led, his mother, strong-willed as she was, would surely follow.

  Sigrid’s chin shot up a notch. “I have the prior claim.”

  “And the requisite permission to court him?” Chana asked archly.

  Sigrid hesitated half a second. “Anya is an old friend.”

  “That’s no answer.”

  “She will not stop me.” Sigrid’s blue eyes shifted toward Will. “Especially given our relationship.”

  “That of Daughter and sex slave?” Chana’s laughter rang out, no longer light and airy, but hard and skeptical. “The rumors of your past have reached even my ears, Sigrid Deathknell. Your maltreatment of men is legendary. Will would fare far better under my care, as his female kin will agree.”

  Will held his hands up, palms out. “Now, wait a minute. Who I date is nobody else’s business, least of all Amma’s.”

  “But whom you marry is, indeed, of great concern.” Chana rolled her shoulders and stepped away from Will, facing Sigrid. “My family needs the alliance with the beloved grandson of a councilmember, and a close cousin of the Blade, and I have high hopes of breaking my long immortality with a Son of such beauty and wit.”

  Sigrid’s sword hand twitched so slightly, he only noticed because he was watching her. “I should’ve killed you for touching him.”

  “You could try.”

  Will skirted the desk and placed himself between them, carefully out of reach of both. “Hold on, now. This is still my decision.”

  “You lost the right to make this decision,” Sigrid said in a voice so cold, goosebumps popped up on his skin, “when you came willingly to my bed. I challenge you, Chana Wolfbane, Daughter of Pari Bakhshesh, of the line of Eleni, for your temerity in touching my property.”

  Chana stared down her finely crafted nose at Sigrid. “When and where?”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Will muttered. “I’m not letting y’all fight over me. This isn’t the fucking middle ages.”

  Sigrid’s eyes flashed fire. “Not your call.”

  “Fine. Kill each other for all I care.” He snagged a piece of paper and jotted down a note to set up a challenge, then threw his pen down and glared at both of them. “I’ll make the arrangements, but until then, if I hear even one rumor of y’all exchanging cross words, I’ll ban you both from The Omega and make sure Rebecca tacks on a suitable punishment. Deal?”

  Chana nodded. “It is agreed.”

  She bowed to him, then walked out, never taking her eyes off Sigrid until the door closed on her.

  Will crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back against the desk, and turned his glare on Sigrid. “What the fuck?”

  Her lips thinned into a hard, red slash. “You accepted her touch.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “Her hands were on you.”

  He tamped down on the anger roiling around in his gut. Getting mad at her would not help this situation, no matter how much he wanted to yell at her. “And? Are you going to challenge every woman who dares to get close?”

  “Only the ones who wish to—” Her teeth clicked together, cutting off her words. “You will present yourself to me within half an hour of closing tonight.”

  He shook his head. “Oh, no, princess. We’re not going there.”

  “We are going,” she said through clenched teeth, “exactly where I decide we will go. Present yourself, or I shall hunt you down and chain you to my bed.”

  “Well, I guess that would be a first,” he said, and immediately regretted the sarcasm when she pa
led and flinched away.

  “Half an hour, Will.”

  She pivoted on the ball of one foot and marched away, and he scrambled after her, his anger gone under the weight of regret.

  “Sigrid, wait. I didn’t mean it.”

  She paused at the door and half turned toward him, nodded once, and then she slipped away, as quietly as she’d entered.

  Will stood in the middle of his office, hands on hips, and stared up at the ceiling. Sweet Mother, he’d royally screwed that one up. He had a funny feeling the screwing was just beginning, too. Rebecca might welcome an exhibition, but she was sure to pitch a hissy fit about Sigrid’s challenge, and his grandmother…

  He dragged a hand over his face. Fuck. No way was he coming out of this without somebody taking a chunk out of him, especially if Sigrid managed to lose during her fight with Chana.

  Friggin’ Daughters and their friggin’ honor.

  On the bright side, Ethan would get a chance to have a go at Levi now, which would at least be more entertaining than watching two women fight over a man.

  Sigrid paced from one end of her living room to the other. Though she’d spent two hours training after leaving The Omega and should be exhausted, sleep eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Will standing with Chana, his hands on the other Daughter’s arms as if he were pulling her closer.

  Clearly they’d been discussing something, else why had Chana been standing just so, with her palms flat on Will’s chest and her body soft and willing?

  Something ugly and mean shot through Sigrid. That one would receive her dues come the day of the exhibition. Rebecca would insist on non-deadly combat, and as long as the contest was held within Tellowee, Sigrid would abide by the Blade’s rules.

  Outside of Tellowee was another matter.

  Will was her lover, hers, but perhaps he had forgotten that. Perhaps the night they’d shared had meant nothing to him beyond a pleasant reprieve from duty and work.

  A sharp ache pierced Sigrid, very near her heart. She placed a hand over it and dropped onto her couch, in front of the embers smoldering in the fireplace. Was that all she was to him, a pastime? Did he still long for this nebulous other woman Moira had alluded to?

  A hard fist hit the front door. Sigrid gathered her composure, walked to the door in measured steps, and opened it on Will.

  His expression was impassive under the fatigue etched into the lines around his mouth and the shadows under his eyes. He stepped inside and closed the door, flipped the lock, and dropped a backpack on the floor next to the wall.

  Words lodged themselves in her throat, refusing to be spoken. Had he had a rough night? How could he betray her with another woman? Did he need anything, water, tea, a soft bed, her touch?

  Concern, anger, and something too ephemeral to define warred within her, and finally, she inhaled a slow breath and let it out on the demands she had planned to make of him. “You will please me now.”

  “Hunh.”

  His gaze slid down her body, taking in the tightly fitted workout clothes she hadn’t bothered changing out of and the touch of pink splashed across the toes of her bare feet. Heat lit his spring green eyes, darkening them as he shrugged his coat off and hung it up, and his gaze bore into her, raking desire through her as surely as his touch.

  “Take it off,” he said gruffly.

  Her hands fluttered along the hem of her sleeveless athletic top, but before she could act, he brushed her hands away and stripped the top off her, leaving her naked from the waist up. He hummed under his breath and cupped her breasts, flicked the pads of his thumbs across her nipples. Heat curled into her through the unfamiliar emotion filling her and she shuddered under the slight weight of his hands.

  “More?” he said, and she arched into him, unable to resist the husky need in his voice.

  Her tights melted away, replaced by the rough graze of his palms along her skin, the warm heat of his mouth, the rasp of his tongue, the sharp bite of his teeth. He suckled her nipples, dragging her swiftly through a passion so strong, she could only gasp and clutch his shoulders and open herself to his every touch.

  His hand slid into the juncture of her thighs, then his fingers plucked her clit, rubbed in gentle circles around it, and she bit her tongue, silencing her need to beg, to plead, to do anything if it meant having him inside her.

  His mouth grazed her ear, and he whispered, “Say it.”

  She swallowed past the raw heat clogging her throat. “What?”

  “Say you want me.”

  His finger slid into her and out, then a second joined it, filling her. The pad of his thumb flicked over her clit, and she cried out, “Yes!”

  “Say it,” he insisted, and the dark, dangerous tone did nothing to stifle the pleasure he was giving her. “Say you want me.”

  “I do.” Her head fell back and her eyes drifted shut, and in that moment, if he had asked her to face an army of a thousand well-trained men with nothing but her sword, she would’ve done it for him, only for Will. “I want you so much.”

  His mouth latched onto her throat, sucking the skin over her pulse, and his fingers moved inside her as his thumb stroked her clit, and she lost herself in his touch, lost herself to everything he was doing to her, to the heat of his mouth and the roughness of his touch and the hard strength hidden under his work clothes. Perfect, glorious Will.

  “Come for me,” he said against her throat, and she did, peaking so hard, she shuddered against him and would’ve fallen if not for his arm around her back.

  The world shifted beneath her and she was lifted high, so high, and tucked against his chest. She closed her eyes, luxuriating in the swiftness of her release, in his compliance, in the tang of his aftershave tickling her nose.

  A moment later, he laid her down on the rug in front of the dying fire. “Have I pleased you, lover?”

  She smiled and tucked a hand under her head. “You have.”

  His fingers found the hem of his shirt and tugged. Over his head it went, only to be dropped on the floor at his feet. “You’re sated, then.”

  Unaccountably, his words stirred fresh desire. She shifted her legs against the rug, rubbing them together in a sensual slide of skin on skin. “I would have the pleasure of your touch again.”

  “As you wish.”

  He shucked the rest of his clothes, left them in an untidy pile, and she marveled at his beauty, the symmetry of his form, the muscles stretching under golden skin, the dusting of hair on his chest arrowing into a line leading straight to his manhood.

  Sig sucked her lower lip into her mouth. For all his impassiveness since his arrival, she would never have believed it possible for him to be aroused, yet there the proof was, jutting away from his body in a hard erection.

  He knelt between her thighs, braced himself above her. The tip of his erection prodded her pussy, and she welcomed him gladly, surrounding him with her touch.

  He rocked into her, slowly filling her, ever so gently seating himself deep within her. “Does this please you, lover?”

  “It does, Will,” she murmured, and only then did she realize how much she must have hurt him with her coldness when he’d walked in the door. How could she tell him that? How could she beg his forgiveness for lashing out at him? How could she plead for a return of his warmth when he was giving so much of himself?

  How could she have let her jealousy of another woman’s touch, a simple and possibly innocent touch, drive him to close off his emotions?

  Oh, Will. What have I done to you?

  She cupped his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “You please me, dearest Will.”

  A faint smile curved his lips. “Not finished yet.”

  And so she gave in to him, moving with him as he drove them both higher and higher until they fell over the edge together, holding tight to him and the pleasure he so willingly gave her.

  Will slid off of Sigrid and curled up behind her, reluctant to let her go in spite of the fatigue dogging him
. Blessed Ki, what a week, and it was only the beginning of the work facing him. That fact should’ve depressed him. There was still so much to be done, so many people to help, so many more coming in, if rumor held true. Nobody wanted to miss out on the action, whatever that action was. Immortal Daughters were always up for a good challenge, especially if weapons were involved.

  He mustered enough energy to nuzzle the side of Sigrid’s throat, breathed in her scent. “You should’ve made me take you to bed before letting me ravish you.”

  A breathy laugh huffed out of her. “Did I give you the option?”

  “Honey, there’s always an option.”

  He skimmed a hand down her long flank, relishing the sheen of sweat covering her soft skin and the hitch in her breathing. To know his touch affected her did wonders for his ego and the futile hope clinging to his heart. Would she ever submit to him, or was sizzling hot sex the best he could hope for?

  Not that he was complaining. The sex was great. Awesome, even, but it wasn’t the be all, end all of his dreams, not by a long shot.

  She half turned toward him, her eyes downcast. In the flickering light thrown across them by the remnants of the fire, her expression was soft, accepting. Womanly. Desire stirred in him, incredible after the amazing release she’d given him, and the two he’d given her. Would it always be this way between them? Would he always be this desperate for her?

  “Stay the night.”

  Her voice was low, gentle, and underscored by a note Will had never heard before. A plea? An apology? He turned her face toward his and kissed it away, savoring the heady heat rising within him.

  She wrapped her hand around his wrist and eased away from him, her blue eyes shadowed. “Will you?”

  “Stay with you? Yeah, planned on it.”

  Her eyes swept up to his, and what he saw there wasn’t the look of the haughty ice queen everyone thought her to be, but that of a woman unsure of her way. “Did you?”

  “It’s Friday. You don’t have to work tomorrow. I do, but not early.” He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, kissed the tip of her nose. “I brought my own soap in case all you have is the girly stuff.”