“Yes.”
“Everyone who helped take me.”
“Every single one.”
“You tore him apart because he touched what belongs to you.”
“Because he took you from me. Because he made you afraid. Because he thought he could convince you to leave.” I cup her face in my bloodstained hands, feeling her pulse race under my palms. “My beautiful, deadly mate.”
She stares into my eyes for a long moment, reading the truth there. The berserker hasn't fully faded. I'm stilldangerous, still capable of more violence if anyone else threatens what's mine.
Instead of pulling away, she leans into my touch.
“How do you feel?” she asks.
“Complete. Satisfied.” My thumbs trace her cheekbones, leaving faint red streaks on her skin. “Like I've finally stopped pretending to be something I'm not.”
“What were you pretending to be?”
“Civilized. Diplomatic. Someone who solves problems with words instead of claws.” I lean down until our foreheads touch. “Someone who wasn't made for exactly this.”
Her breathing changes, becomes shorter and more rapid. Through the bond, I catch the scent of arousal mixing with copper and death.
“Take me home,” she whispers.
“Not yet.” I glance toward Vasek's corpse, at the blood pooling around his severed limbs. “Here first. In the place he thinks will be his.”
Her pupils dilate. “Here?”
“Here. Now. So his failure is complete.”
I lift her onto the black stone throne, positioning her where Vasek once sat in arrogant comfort. Where he planned to keep her while he demonstrated his supposed superiority.
Instead, she'll claim me here. Mark me as hers just as thoroughly as I've marked her as mine.
BRAITH
Blood pools around Vasek's dismembered corpse, staining the black stone crimson. Kiakoa’s hands are still on my skin, still tearing at the fabric of my dress, and the sight of him covered in enemy blood sends heat flooding between my thighs.
“Now where were we?” His voice carries that rough edge that means the berserker hasn't fully faded.
“Right about here,” I breathe, pulling his mouth down to mine.
The kiss tastes of copper and possession, violent and desperate. His tongue slides against mine while his hands finish destroying my dress, tearing the fabric away until it pools around my feet on the blood-slicked stone.
“Mine,” he growls against my throat, teeth scraping over my pulse point.
“Yours. Always yours.”
He lifts me higher on the throne, positioning me so I'm spread wide across the black stone where Vasek once sat in arrogant power. The symbolism isn't lost on either ofus—I'm claiming this seat, this territory, this victory as thoroughly as he claimed me.
His mouth moves down my throat to my breasts, tongue circling my nipple before his teeth close around it. The sharp pressure makes me arch against him, a gasp escapes my lips, loud in the stone chamber.
“Everyone will know,” he says, moving to the other breast. “Every lord, every territory. They'll know what happens when someone tries to take you.”
“Good.” My hands tangle in his dark hair, still damp with sweat and blood. “Let them all know I chose you.”
His teeth extend, pricking the curve of my breast just above the nipple. Not breaking skin, just pressure that promises pain and pleasure combined. When I don't flinch away, he bites deeper.
