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“Enough,” I thunder. But she continues her litany of rage, jerking more and more violently against my grasp until I’m able to get her twisted around so her back is to my front. I pin her to me by banding my arms around her torso, trapping her arms. “Are you finished with this little tirade?” I hiss at her ear.
She squirms against me, her breaths like a bellows.
“I can see you’re upset,” I go on, trying to ignore how my cock swells with her movements. “But you need to calm down.” It takes another minute before she realizes the futility of her struggle and the tension in her small body begins to drain away. “Better,” I say, lowering my voice. “Now, can I trust you to remain calm?”
She relents with a shaky nod and I loosen my hold enough for her to turn in my arms. Her eyes flash with mutiny, but beneath that, there’s sorrow radiating from her very soul. It leaves me fumbling with the urge to fend it off for her, to protect her from whatever demons haunt her.
She pulls in a breath that sounds suspiciously like a precursor to sobs. “Hush now, little raven,” I whisper, sliding one hand down to the small of her back and the other up under her hair. “Whoever he is, I’ll see him dead before he hurts you again. I vow it.”
What am I saying?
Her only response is another shaky inhale as her hands drop to my hips and her forehead to my chest. Then slowly, like honey spilling from a dipper, her entire body settles against mine.
The utter rightness of the feeling makes my thoughts hazy. Her shoulders relaxing, her cheek coming to rest over my heart, her belly providing a warm place for my now heavy cock, it’s all perfection.
Shit. This isn’t supposed to be happening.
Just a minute longer, I tell myself, gently massaging the base of her skull. Except that draws a contented sigh from her, one that’s laced with longing, one that sets off a wave of desire so strong my hard-on goes from reveling in her proximity to out-right craving her. Behind my closed lids, images spark to life . . . tasting her full lips, tracing her nipples, holding her steady as I sink in deep. They’re so vivid that my arms tighten around her until a loud caw sounds.
It’s a crow.
It’s landed only an arm’s length away on the ledge of the window. “Get,” I tell it, unhappy with the interruption. Or is it relieved?Because what in the Mother’s name am I doing?
We watch as the bird gracefully jumps from the sill, its brilliant black wings glinting in the winter sun. With the spell broken, I let her go and retrieve the letter from the floor. “Come and sit down.”
She complies, more, I suspect, because she’s feeling unsteady than any real inclination to obey. But I’ll take what I can get. I hold out the letter to her. “I need to hear all of it, each and every word.” Her features twist, but I head off her protests by uttering something I don’t think I’ve said in years. “Please?”
A stare-down begins once again but this time the still-simmering heat between us melts it away and she finally says, “Fine, but must you loom?”
“Loom?”
“Yes, loom. You tower over me even when I’m on my feet. Please sit down.”
When she refuses to take the letter from me until I do as she asks, I sink down on the edge of the bed beside her with a muttered, “I’m supposed to be in charge.”
Taking it from me, she unrolls the parchment again. “My dear friend,” she reads, restarting from the beginning. “I hope this letter finds you well. I would have you know that the whore has been sent north to that unsuspecting upstart in the Mountain Lion Realm.”
She must feel me tense at the unknown word –upstart –because she pauses, but I jerk my chin at the page, indicating she should continue.
“I have arranged for some unfortunate violence to befall her along the way.” She’s reading it in a monotone and it takes a second for the words to register with me.Unfortunate violence?Father’s tit.My mind scrambles to follow because she hasn’t stopped. “But even if that doesn’t come to pass, I have hopefully done enough physical damage to her already that the new deve will reject her outright.”
“What?” I hiss, unable to keep silent any longer. Pushing to my feet, I start to pace. Whoever this man is, he is as good as dead. “Carry on,” I say tightly, my rage barely contained.
She finds her place. “If not, her shrew’s tongue will surely peck and tear at his undoubtedly monumental arrogance. Taken together, these factors should cause enough of a rift between them that the marriage will be an impossibility, serving both our purposes. Whether the nuptials happen or not, we will meet in the spring as agreed. Your ally, Mattice Dulat.”
“Son of a twisted womb! Does that letter look genuine to you?”
“I . . .” She’s taken aback, but she considers my question, examining the D’heilar seal and what I take to be the man’s mark at the bottom. “Yes.”
“And what is the word used to describe me,up. . . something?”
“Upstart. It’s a person who rises in rank unexpectedly. One who isn’t deserving.”
I want to tear someone’s head off for this. “Who is this Mattice Dulat?”
She flinches at my strident tone, but answers. “The King’s advisor.”
Skepticism begins to take root as I try to make sense of what she’s telling me.Why would the King’s advisor personally maim a girl and then arrange to have her raped?“Did you read that letter true?” I demand harshly.
