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"Your eyes," he said, sounding awed. "They burn for me."
I'm not alone in this. Might not ever be alone again. A wave of vulnerability crashed into her.
Then the worst happened.
One moment she was horny, ready for another go, the next she was sobbing as if a treasured friend had just been murdered.
Tears poured down her cheeks, her entire body heaving.
Gillian hadn't shed a single teardrop in centuries. Now she could do nothing to halt the tide.
Puck wrapped his arms around her, held her through her sobs. He even combed his fingers through her hair, murmuring things like, "I understand. You once experienced betrayal, and this...this is freedom." And "I cannot stand to see my warrioress cry." Followed by "Tell me what to do and I'll do it."
He did understand. He'd suffered betrayal, too.
He'd called her warrioress.
He'd given her an orgasm. Her first. And she'd only had to wait five hundred and something years. The fear she'd suffered with so long...the nightmares...the pleasure her abusers had stolen from her... It was wrong! It was criminal! She'd been cheated, hurt, destroyed, ruined--
No! Not destroyed. Not ruined. Her body had been used by others, yes, and her self-worth had been kicked, punched, beaten and stabbed, but she'd picked herself up off the ground, she'd stood, she'd squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, and she'd lived. She'd learned to fight back. She'd helped others in need. And now she had this. A sexual experience born of mutual desire. A kiss worthy of going to war, if only to have another. A cherished memory to overshadow those she hoped to one day erase.
"I'm sorry I ruined the mood," she said when she caught her breath. The breakdown probably should have left her hollow and weak, but she felt invigorated, as if a broken bone had finally reset and healed stronger.
"Don't be sorry." With gentle swipes of his thumbs, he wiped the tears from her cheeks. So tender. So surprising.
"Do you think I'm weak now?" she asked with a sniffle.
"I think you stronger. The things you've had to overcome...you are an inspiration to me."
I inspired a great warrior such as him? She had to blink back a new round of tears.
"That was the first time you've ever climaxed?" he asked, still so tender.
There was no smugness in his voice, only curiosity, and perhaps a bit of pride. The only reason she responded. "Yes. That was my first time choosing my partner, too." Tenderness, gratitude and affection replaced her vulnerability--each directed at Puck. "Should we...take care of you now?"
A pause. Then, "No." He released her and backed away. "I should go."
Go? No! She didn't want distance from him right now--she wanted communion. "Stay." Please.
He gave a curt shake of his head. Then, before her eyes, he changed from a source of comfort to torment, from needful to removed.
The Ice Man had returned with a vengeance.
She told herself, I'm too wrung out to be upset about this. But she wasn't a fan of platitudes and wouldn't lie, even to herself. She was upset. Cutting disappointment nearly cleaved her in two.
Knew he would get off and run. Knew it! And it hurt just as badly as she'd suspected.
Although, he hadn't gotten off, had he? And yet he'd still found the strength to abandon her. Ouch.
What had caused the change in him? Why wouldn't he let her bring him to orgasm? Why would he deny her the privilege?
With this version of Puck, demanding answers would get her nowhere fast. "I wish you'd stop Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde-ing into the Ice Man. He's a real bummer. And yes, I just turned names into a verb."
"We're going to talk," he said, ignoring her, his voice no longer filled with smoke and gravel, but frost.
Uh-oh. This couldn't be good.
Unease swamped her. Still, she pasted on a smile and crossed her arms over her chest to hide her puckered nipples, all I've got nothing better to do.
Mistake! She remembered how badly he'd wanted to attend to those aching nipples, but she'd protested, hoping to get off quickly. Foolish girl!
Next time she would...what? Would she welcome a next time? What they'd done had rocked her whole world, true, but this...this she couldn't tolerate. Acting as if nothing had happened, staring into uncaring eyes, unable to respond as she'd like without possible consequences.
Whoa! If there was a problem, Gillian fixed it. Consequences be damned. From now on, she would respond however she dang well pleased!
"You're right. We're going to talk." Though her legs were like jelly, she managed to walk to the couch Peanut had mauled and ease down. "You once told me Princess Alannah of Daingean is your female. Arranged marriage, blah, blah. Did you turn me down because you're saving yourself for her? News flash! I doubt she's saving herself for you. She's engaged to your brother. Has been for a while, though they've never actually pulled the trigger."
He offered no outward cues to his thoughts, the jerk.
Gillian had interacted with the princess only once, but had watched her, curious, anytime they'd visited the same village market at the same time.
Alannah was pretty in an understated way, soft-spoken and timid. My opposite.
Their conversation had been short and sweet.
Gillian: I hear you were once engaged to Puck Connacht.
Alannah: Y-yes. But he has horns now and--
Gillian: I'm his wife, and I enjoy killing anyone who disrespects him.
Alannah: Please, excuse me.
"Why does it matter?" Puck finally asked. He sat in the decimated chair across from her.
"Just making conversation, as you wanted. If you'd prefer, I can go back to the party...and William."
Still no reaction from him. Uh-oh. Maybe she shouldn't have gone there? Puck wasn't some schoolboy with his very first crush. He was a prince and future king, a warrior to the core and the keeper of Indifference. Though he desired Gillian--in his own way--he could walk away without hesitation, any time, any place. As he'd proven.
"I liked the idea of her," he replied, and relief careened through her. He moved a hand over one of his horns, as if self-conscious--impossible. "I ran into her after my possession, after my appearance had been altered. She fled."
Ouch. The rejection must have hurt, even if he hadn't felt the emotion at the time.
Wait. Did emotions build up inside him, and erupt later? If he needed ice to control his reactions...she'd guess yes.
Leaning toward him, she said in a stage whisper, "Want to know a secret?"
He shook his head. Then he scowled. Then he nodded. "Tell me. Tell me now."
Do I detect eagerness? Won't smile. "I've always considered you beautiful."
He gave her a look--one of hope and longing--only to hide it behind an indifferent mask a second later.
Her heart squeezed as she said, "What did you like about the princess?"
"The look of her, and that she was going to be mine. I didn't actually know her."
"You don't know me, either," Gillian pointed out. "Did you want to touch me only because of the way I look? Or because I'm already yours?" A fact you insisted I say out loud.
"I know plenty about you."
"Oh? Do tell."
"You..."
"What?" she insisted.
"You like helping people. You dislike liars."
"Facts I've told you. Hardly a news flash. I know you like the thought of hurting your brother, and you dislike William."
"Your favorite hobby is collecting trophies from the men you've defeated."
"Something you gleaned from said trophies hanging on my wall." The corner of her mouth lifted. "I think your favorite hobby just became collecting orgasms from your wife."
His chest rose and fell in quick succession, but still his expression remained blank. "You want to stay in Amaranthia, even after we divorce. Not just to keep your clan together, but to continue ruling your clan. You believe no one else can see to their well-being as completely as you."
All
right. Maybe he did know her. "Correct again."
"But you can't stay here."
Instant fury. "You're going to try to kick me out of Amaranthia once you're king? And notice I said try."
"I won't try. I will do."
"So you lied to me. Again," she grated. "After you promised to always tell me the truth."
He didn't even flinch. "I didn't lie. I changed my mind."
"Why did you change your mind?" she demanded.
"Because I can." His gaze was as cold and detached as the day he'd broken her finger, just to prove a point. "This is my realm."
All right, she was a little too screwed in the head at the moment to deal with this. With him. "I'm done chatting with you. I don't like you when you get this way, so I'm going back to the party."
He said nothing as she stood and stomped off, soon entering the cool of the night. A second later, however, the door slammed. Footsteps echoed. Puck had followed her.
Her pulse points raced, her skin and blood heating, her body ready for round two.
Ignore him. As she approached the feast, a familiar buzz sped along her nerve endings. She stopped abruptly, breathing deeply to circumvent a Hulk-out.
