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Obviously, Roark gestured.

“Well, prepare for a steeper route compared to the Myrdan pass. Everyone find a place to sleep.” Thane glanced at me and Roark. “I suppose I’ll give up my tent to the only two who are wed. By the way, you both ought to know, I’m furious about it. You should’ve waited until we were all boon companions again.”

He did not wait for a response before aiding in arranging mats, furs, and supplies from the camp for the new Dravens.

I snorted and nudged Roark’s ribs with my elbow. “I told you he’d feel slighted.”

Roark leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

His fingers brushed over the front of my throat, slow, seductive. I want to taste you, wife.

36

Lyra

A single tallow candle in an iron lantern illuminated the prince’s tent. Thane had a wider cot than the one where I was bound. Roark settled Kyrre outside the door to keep watch.

“He already looks like he’s grown two heads taller since he bonded to you.”

Roark spun on me, ignoring talk of his fara, and dug his fingertips into my hip bones. One palm splayed over my spine and the other slid up my ribs, caressing the side of one breast, until he could speak against my cheek. Had I not found you when I did, kingdoms would’ve burned.

A sigh slid from my throat, his kisses trailing across my neck. “A little excessive since I’m certain this was orchestrated by your mother.”

Roark nipped at my pulse point and nodded. Likely.

No doubt, Elisabet sent the plea to the prince, convinced he would come to my aid. She’d questioned me regarding Thane before abandoning me, clearly seeking assurance about his character before leaving me to be taken into his hands.

She sent us, Roark gestured, tugging on the laces of the clean top Yrsa had lent me. She made it seem as though war would begin if we did not leave immediately.

Roark’s teeth scraped across the swell of one breast. I clasped his face in my palms, tugging his lips close. “Then remind me to thank your mother for being devious when we meet again.”

I kissed him, frantic and greedy. All teeth, moans, and tongues.

Roark pinned me to the cot, the ropes and thin canvas sling groaning under our weight. His hand palmed my breast, and his fingers slipped beneath the tunic until the tips brushed over my nipple.

“Hmm.” I arched my spine. “I thought you wanted a taste.”

The vicious smirk twisted over his swollen lips. As you wish, wife.

He pulled the tunic over my head and kissed a line down the center of my chest, pausing to draw in each hardened peak between his lips.

I felt wild and uncontrolled. As though if I did not lose myself in this man soon I would split through my own skin. I curled my arms around his head, holding his mouth against me.

Roark’s fingers touched and flicked, kneading my breasts. Let’s see how ready you are for me.

Blood thudded in my skull. He slid his other palm across my middle and dipped beneath the loose trousers. The tip of his finger teased my center, circling and sliding inside just enough to spin my head.

Roark moaned and grinned a little viciously. He mouthed the word Perfect against my parted lips and kissed me, deeper and harder.

I panted, desperate for more. He made quick work of peeling the trousers from my legs.

With a touch of copper red in his eyes, Roark knelt at the end of the cot. He dragged his tongue between my thighs, holding me captive to his beautifully cruel kiss. My fingers tangled in his hair, seeking purchase against the storm of his hands, his lips, him.

I moaned and bucked, and my thighs tightened around his head as release built and built until tension snapped. I slapped a palm over my mouth to muffle the scream. Tents offered little privacy, and I refused to face Thane or Gunter and their salacious words and winks come dawn.

Roark sloughed off his trousers, reared over me, and filled me in a single thrust.