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Authors: Jacquelyn Frank

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BOOK: Cursed by Ice
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“So,” he said, his voice a low rumble of speculation, “what shall we do tonight? Shall I curl up at your feet like a nice, well-heeled puppy? Or should I nip and bite at you like a naughty one?”

She giggled. “Both sound very attractive in their own right,” she said.

“But which do you prefer? Snuggling down for warmth against me or nipping”—he gently bit the cap of her shoulder—“and biting.”

“I think I might like a combination of the two. Perhaps one first, then the other.”

“Ah. But in which order?”

She could see the amusement in his eyes and the smile at the edges of his lips, and it warmed her to her soul.

“I think I’d prefer the naughty first … then the nice.”

“I concur,” he said on a rich, rumbling growl. She
giggled and squealed when he stripped back the bedding and made as if to devour her in the dead center of her belly. She laughed as he pressed onward, his hands at her ankles and then beneath the hem of her gown before she even realized what he was attempting. By the time she did, his hands were already coasting up the outer edges of her thighs. “And this sinful creation … Just as I would punish one dressmaker for insulting you, I would reward another for somehow making you even more desirable than I thought possible. Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly want you more, you attend me in this.”

The gown slid up past the apex of her thighs and onto her lower belly. The moment her navel was bare he pressed his lips to it, kissing her, his tongue flicking out against her. Then suddenly he was using strong hands to flip her over onto her belly, making her gasp as her backside was bared to the heat of his gaze. His fingers continued to lift her gown until he had shucked it off her completely, letting it slip down off the side of the bed to land in a silky little pile.

With her back to him she could do little more than look toward the wall, or at the forearm braced about a foot from her nose. His skin was tanned a light nutbrown from the sun; small, crisp hair curled along the length of it. He had a mole about midway up his inside forearm and she couldn’t help but think how cute it was. Then she rolled her eyes at herself. The man was many things but cute was not one of them.

Now that she was naked, he took the opportunity to run his hands down the full length of her body, from the base of her neck to the backs of her ankles, and then back up again, each time slowing down as he crested over the swells of her backside. On his second trip toward her ankles he shaped her buttocks to his hands, squeezing each firm cheek with his fingers, his thumbs
brushing along the center crease. She felt vulnerable, facing away from him, unable to touch him back, unable to see him or his reactions to her. But she supposed he must be enjoying himself or he wouldn’t be doing what he was doing. After a moment he lay his body along the back of hers, her bottom nesting into his hips, and she was given hard proof that he was enjoying himself. His breath pooled warmly in her ear.

“How is it possible I want you more now than I did before … even before the first time? That should not be possible. And yet it is. The more I learn about you, the more I see and experience you … the more I desire everything about you.”

“Surely not everything,” she argued. “I must have some fatal flaw?”

“You mean besides being irrevocably attached to the physical well-being of a wyvern? No others that I can see.”

“My willfulness? My temper?”

“Vexing and charming, I agree, but hardly fatal flaws. Turn over.”

She did so slowly, feeling vulnerable again as he watched her with famished eyes. He exhaled a hard breath.

“No. No flaws,” he said, touching her shoulder where he had shot her with an arrow before that very first meeting. The healings of the mems had worked and there was little more than a puckered pink spot where the bolt had been. “You were very lucky I did not have poison on my arrows that day. I do not like to use it, but I will when I must. Poison can be a tricky thing though. One careless move and the poisoner finds himself poisoned.”

“I am lucky you did not hit my heart.”

“It turns out that it was my good fortune to not hit your heart. Else I never would have known this.” He
bent his head and placed a kiss on her skin. “I was always a lucky man. I usually make my own luck, but I will take it where it is given with ease as well. The bennesah was a fool for putting you out on the wall where you could be seen and targeted. I would have kept you far out of reach of a warmonger’s weapons and yet in the open air so you could guide the wyvern.”

“Is this really what you wish to talk about just now?” she asked, her eyes light with amusement and fondness.

“No. You are right. There are better things to do with my tongue.”

“Oh! That is not what I meant!” she said with a gasp as he boldly tongued her across one of her pointed nipples.

“Shall I stop?”

“No,” she sighed.

“What about now?” He took the same nipple between his teeth and tugged gently on it.

“No.”

“And now?” He pulled a little harder. She moaned her reply. He then soothed the abused area by closing his mouth over her nipple and sucking at it first gently, then more strongly. She arched her back, feeding him her breast more deeply. She felt him move, felt him working his body in between her knees, his hips driving up between her thighs. She immediately embraced his legs with her own, opening herself up to him, only to be disappointed when she realized he still had his breeches on.

“Why aren’t you naked?” she complained.

“Would you like me to be?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“Then let me up,” he said with amusement.

“Oh!” She untwined their legs, letting him up. He stripped himself of his breeches and came back to her. She had been chilled by his departure; now she delighted in his return.

For an endless amount of minutes, he made love to her with his hands and mouth, moving his body up and down along hers, constantly turning her one way and then another way for her pleasure and for his. He took his time, chased down her every little sigh, every little moan. It was all about her. He refused to let her touch him in return, forced her to enjoy being catered to. She couldn’t shake the feeling that his behavior was some kind of apology. Perhaps for not letting her in. For not allowing her to see the part of him he was keeping hidden.

Regardless of his motivations, she lay back and let him pleasure her. She really didn’t have much of a choice, it seemed. And when he finally breached her body with his, she had already come for him multiple times. She was almost exhausted by the time he took his first stroke. But the moment he was inside her she revived, coming to life in his arms again. Never once did he change his slow and steady pace, almost to her frustration. But in the end, it seemed he knew best.

Falling asleep in his arms some time later, she couldn’t help the feeling crawling over her that told her she was in trouble. That her emotions were now at stake when it came to this man. A man who was not free to give his heart or his full attention to anyone but his warrior goddess. She felt a moment of pure jealousy toward that aggressive woman. Why? Why should Weysa be the only one allowed to have him? Why couldn’t she have him for the rest of her life too? She wouldn’t get in the way of his goals. In fact, she could travel with him, bringing with her the power of the wyvern. What a mighty weapon that would be for his armies!

But even as she thought it, she knew it was not possible. She would not take Koro from his beloved nest and his home for her own selfish reasons. She could not
travel in an army camp with the twins. She would be tethered to one place, probably this place, until the twins were old enough to fend for themselves.

And for some reason the thought brought tears to her eyes.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

“Brother! We are in danger!”

A thundering fist on the door woke Sarielle from an unsettled sleep, then the door to Garreth’s room burst open to admit Dethan, who strode up to the bed and thumped his brother on the back. Sarielle, meanwhile, had scooted down under the warm covers, ensuring her naked body was covered and hidden from Dethan’s judgmental glare. Garreth was roused with some difficulty, until he saw his brother and registered Dethan’s presence in his bedroom. He was up like a shot, his arm crossing protectively over Sarielle.

“What are you doing?” Garreth demanded of his sibling. “Get out!”

“I will as long as you come with me. There is an army at our gates.”

“An army?!”

“Yes. Come see for yourself.”

Garreth flew out of bed and into his clothes. As soon as the brothers had exited the room, Sarielle bolted into her rooms and did the same.

She raced out of her rooms and after the men, guessing they would go to the upper walls of the keep, which rose above the city walls. She was right. She found them
in the chill morning air, looking at the army that had moved into place overnight outside the walls. Thank the gods the men had ordered the city gate closed each night at dusk; the only person allowed to pass was Garreth himself as he came from … well, whatever it was he did.

Garreth was watching the army through a telescopic eyepiece. Then he saw Sarielle and handed it to her. “What do you make of them?”

She put the telescope to her eye and looked at the men running around the tents that had been pitched. “Zizo! And rylings,” she said. The Zizo were dwarfish creatures, men and women of small stature known for their big noses. The rylings were more fey but just as small as the Zizo. The rylings and the Zizo had worked in concert to build a city and economy of comfort in Zandaria. The bennesah had made enemies of them several times over by refusing to deal with them fairly and insulting them on more than one occasion. “They must have heard the bennesah was dead.”

“And thought a newly conquered city would be weak. They are not entirely wrong,” Dethan said grimly.

“But the wyvern still protects this city as far as they know. Why would they move against it?” said Garreth.

“Perhaps they are hoping that is no longer the case. Koro was very visibly injured during the attack. Scouts may have taken note of it,” Dethan said grimly.

“Very well. They want a war? We will give them one,” Garreth said. “We have the whole of a conquering army within these walls. We need only open the gates and we will engage them.”

“But the rylings have magic,” Sarielle reminded them with a warning tone in her voice.

“And we have mages. Three. They came in last night while you were away,” Dethan said to Garreth.

“What sort of mages?”

“I have not had the opportunity to discover this. But I suggest we acquaint ourselves with them with much haste.”

“Agreed,” Garreth said, taking the spyglass from Sarielle. “Stay inside.”

“Perhaps I should call Koro. If they see he is alive and well, they might flee.”

“Not a chance I am willing to take,” Garreth said. “If Koro were to be injured … so would you be too. I will not risk it.”

“But …”

“I will not argue with you about this,” Garreth said harshly. “I have made up my mind about it.” He turned on his heel and marched away from her.

Infuriated, she gave him chase. “Don’t I get any say in the matter?”

“You do not,” Garreth said.

She was shocked that he would be so blunt about his high-handed treatment of her. “Well, can I at least come and interview these mages with you?”

“No. It truly is none of your concern. Please go back inside and remain with the twins. This could be a very long siege or a very short battle. We need time to figure out which approach is best for tackling this.”

“A siege would mean a city that starves. We have barely recovered stores from the last one, if indeed we have any at all. Not to mention we now have an army to provide for living behind these walls.”

Garreth stopped and looked at her hard. “You think I don’t know this? I have made battle in one form or another all my life. Dethan has fought more wars than can be remembered. You have been a cloistered slave for many turnings. You are not qualified to question us on this.”

She looked at him aghast. She felt tears welling up in
her eyes. Furious and frustrated, she pushed past him and ran for the stairs.

“Shit,” Garreth swore.

“You spoke the truth, brother,” Dethan said quietly. “She has no place in this.”

“She lives here and therefore has a place in this. She commands a powerful beast that might come in handy if used wisely. And we wanted her to become leader of this city not two days ago. A leader would need to be included in these matters.”

“But she turned down that offer. Resoundingly so. She made it clear she doesn’t want to be in control of this. She needs to remain inside, safe and out of sight, just as you said. Now, come on. We have much work to do.”

The brothers headed down into the main hall and began to send runners for their lieutenants. They called the mages to them. Davine appeared and began to serve the gathering of men wine and smiles and as much helpful information as she could. When Sarielle walked by and saw this, saw her leaning over Garreth with her hand on his back, her anger only intensified.

BOOK: Cursed by Ice
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