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I sway my hips to the right and tug my pants down, relishing the power that floods my veins knowing the male is watching with rapt attention. My hips sway to the left, and I tug down my pants a little more until the globes of my ass are exposed to the warm, steamy air.

The ground—Atlys—trembles in anticipation. His earth-wielding magic is barely restrained, a cave-in waiting to happen if I don’t move faster.

My pants drop around my ankles, and I look over my shoulder at the Underling Lord that has decided to be mine.

“Five seconds,” Atlys growls with restraint, like it’s painful for him to be a few feet away.

I turn, allowing him to drink his fill. His eyes follow the dark curls of my hair along the curve of my breasts and settle between my legs.

He sucks in air through his teeth as I dip a foot into the spring. The water is so delectably warm, I let out a moan and—

I squeal as strong, tattooed hands pull me in to straddle his lap. The tip of his erection presses against my folds as he squeezes me into a tight embrace. I didn’t realize that a hug could be so charged with warmth and protection and security until now. He holds me like I’m precious to him, smelling the nape of my neck with a level of possessiveness that makes me grind my hips against him.

He stills and pushes me away. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes flick between mine, contemplating. “I thought I almost lost you.”

I release my breath. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“No,” he practically spits, turning his head to the side. “It’s not okay.”

“Atlys—”

“You want to know why, my Sunrise? Watching you collapse on that stage almost broke me. After the initial sweep of terror and concern for your safety, I felt…” He shudders.

Shudders. The most formidable Underling Lord of the lowest territory actually shudders.

“I felt as if ripping apart the Jord Lord’s champion that put his hand on you wouldn’t be enough. There wouldn’t be a limit to the fury I would unleash on this world if you were no longer a part of it. No. Limit.”

I carefully rest my hands on either side of his cheeks. The seriousness of his claim is clear by the way those silver eyes gleam. His jaw is clenched so hard, the muscle in his temple flexes. So I ground him with my nearness—the reality of our situation. That I’m okay. That I’m here.

That I’m safe.

I show him with my kisses. How my lips part for his exploring tongue. The way he tenderly places a glowing periwinkle lily in my hair. By the way our bodies grind together, endless and one and together and right.

Eventually, we break apart and climb out of the water. Atlys conjures the most glorious pile of blankets that I’ve ever seen. I snuggle myself in tight, tucking one leg over his muscled torso.

“Can we stay here all night?” I ask through a yawn. The walk to my rooms seems impossibly far, but… sun burn it! “I promised Ramona that I would meet her tomorrow morning for a celebratory cup of bean brew.”

Atlys shrugs. “I’ll make sure you wake—”

“—up!”

I jolt upright. Stone walls. Crimson blankets. A plain, dusty hearth with a few too-red embers simmering in the fireplace.

I’m in the Jord territory. At Castle Varlok. A hostage at Castle Varlok.

“WAKE UP!” Ragnar roars from the doorway as two Oksvakt rush in from behind him. They flank my bed and pull down on the covers until I’m exposed in only my flimsy nightdress.

“Hey!” I yell and attempt to grab the sheet.

They fling it to the floor. One commands, “Follow us.”

Shit. They must have found out what I did last night. I’ll go anywhere but the dungeons again. I don’t think I can take another night here, let alone freezing in a cell. You would break, a little voice in my head confirms my deepest fears. I would. I would break if they lock me in there.

A guard grunts and throws the sheet in the corner. “Lord Rollo says that you haven’t produced any results yet. Can’t have a faulty bride.”