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I did not meet my king gently. My arms, legs, all of me wrapped around him, forcing his back to strike the rail.
Erik swallowed me up in his arms, his face burrowed against the slope of my neck. His body slid to the deck, my legs straddled over his hips, his back against the side, arms around my waist. He breathed deeply. His fingers curled into my flesh. I dug one hand into his hair before I pulled back, studying his face.
Sharp lines, that scar through his top lip, the points of his two elongated teeth visible in his parted lips.
His thumb brushed over my cheek, once, twice, then his mouthcrashed to mine. There wasn’t anything sweet or gentle about the kiss. It screamed of greed, of a restored addiction after being deprived for too long.
Erik’s mouth claimed every bit of mine. One kiss slid to the next.
“Songbird,” he uttered against my neck, low, almost a growl.
My fingers glided under the neckline of his top, tracing scars along his shoulders, his back, reveling in the heat of his skin after so long of being without, wondering if I might ever feel him again. Erik shuddered and pulled me more tightly against his body, deepening the kiss.
His tongue swiped against mine—gods—his taste. Salt and fire, all of it collided in my mouth, and I let out a groan. I could not get enough.
Until a throat cleared.
We pulled apart, his brow on mine, our harsh breaths a song between us. Erik didn’t look away but smiled at me. A true smile, the most beautiful sight.
“I want to say I will murder whoever has stopped us,” he whispered, “but I can hardly draw up a drop of anger, not with you here.” His palms stroked my hair, my neck, my shoulders, like he was proving his words true.
I kissed the hinge of his jaw. “I never wish to be anywhere else.”
“Good hells. They’re awful.” Jonas groaned behind us, drawing a few laughs.
It was then I realized my father was an unwitting spectator to my moment of passion. As was—all gods—Stieg was here. My face heated. I cleared my throat and unraveled myself from the Ever King’s lap.
“Erik Bloodsinger!” I pawed his ribs. Fresh blood soaked his tunic. “What were you thinking?”
The tall man hissed a curse. “This is the last time I’m going to set this damn wrap. If your horrid blood kills me, I’ll have you know my mate will come for you for robbing my children of their father.Catriona is rather skilled at hexes, and she will not hold back for royalty.”
“If you’re going to keep whimpering, have one of us crewmen do it,” shouted Skulleater. “Longs as we’re on our ship, we be safe.”
“No. Now, it’s simply become a challenge I must conquer, you sod,” the man retorted and dug back into Erik’s wound.
Perhaps it was the blood loss, maybe Erik was delirious with relief much the same as me, but instead of scowling, he murmured under his breath, “Do your littles look at all like me, Tavish?”
The man’s hands halted over the herb-soaked bandage. “Such questions should not be asked without a hefty ewer of strong mead, King. But I wonder if you’ll ever dare ask my father the question you long to ask.”
“Doubtful.” Erik waved him away, keeping his heated gaze on me. “Tavish is aggravated with me, Songbird. Seems when you are on the brink of death, I lose my mind and slaughter myself.”
This damn man. I gave him a withering look that could only hold for a moment before it dissolved into something stronger, more lascivious.
“I’m still trying to puzzle out what sort of spell caused all that damage,” Tavish murmured, focusing on the bandages.
“I was told blood spells kept me on the isle so long as Fione remained,” I said, voice soft. “Only death of the caster or a forced removal would break them entirely.”
“Your father broke the soil and tore us away,” Erik said through a wince. “It forced you to leave.”
I nodded. “But the blood . . . I was told, removal from the isle was fatal.”
The man wrapping Erik’s waist paused for a tense moment. “Then it is a remarkable blessing the king was there to heal you. Dark blood spells as that—I’ve never heard of anyone surviving. The good news is there is truth to a forceful severance of blood bonds. The wards they created no longer exist. We can set foot on those shores again without the marked bone.”
Marked bone? It must’ve been what Skadi mentioned about Hesh and Larsson being the ones who could cross the wards without trouble.
While Tavish dressed the wound, I stepped aside, finding Celine beside Gavyn and Sewell.
“Don’t do that again,” Celine whispered, locking her hands around my shoulders when I embraced her. “We stick together, remember? Can’t be doing that if you get yourself snatched.”
