Page 88 of Claimed By the Fae Lord

Both Gunnar and Mirrelle were fuming and I wondered if something else had happened to put them on edge. The tension didn't dissipate, but at least they were quiet.

"Gods help me," Brahm's voice echoed from the entrance as he came barging in.

"I was gone for less than ten minutes. You couldn’t hold your shit together for ten minutes?”

We froze, chastised younglings under the scrutinizing gaze of a disappointed parent.

“We’re not even talking,” Gunnar argued.

“You think I couldn’t hear you from halfway up the hill?”

Brahm threw some papers onto the table. "Listen and listen well. You will cease this behavior immediately. Gunnar, I have never seen you behave like this. You might want to take time to think about why you’ve allowed her so far under your skin you can’t function. And in such a short period of time."

He glared at each of us in turn, his eyes finally resting on Mirrelle.

"And you, little dragoness," Brahm's voice softened marginally, "you’re well aware of how far you’ve burrowed. Either release your claws or give in and put my son out of his misery.”

His words weren’t directed at me, but they may as well have been. I found myself seeking Liam’s eyes. Dark oranges whirled with power.

If I’d been alone with him, I suspected his berserker would have taken over and bent me over the table. Shit, now they would all pick up on my arousal.

Think of something else!Garbage. Old fetid wounds smelling of rot. Wait—I didn’t think I knew what that smelled like.Think!

Only, I couldn’t. So I did the only thing I knew with certainty would work. I pulled a dagger and drew blood from my forearm.

Not deep, but enough to burn.There. That was better.

When I sheathed the blade, I caught Liam rubbing his bottom lip with the tip of his finger. I looked away before I was forced to start stabbing myself. Everywhere.

I’d missed whatever else had been said so I sought Mirrelle. Of course she wasn’t rattled, having taken a seat and paying close attention to the Drótinn.

"We will," Liam said, his voice a low rumble of acquiescence.

"Good. You have one hour," Brahm nodded once, sharp and commanding, before turning on his heel and striding out for the second time.

Damn it. I had no idea what was happening. “One hour for what?” I asked the room.

“Come on,” Liam motioned toward the corridor with a tilt of his head.

I rose and his hand found mine. Worriedly, I looked over my shoulder at my friend who was no longer sitting.

Her tall frame and curves were blocked by the wide shape of a berserker stalking her into the wall behind her. The Duersians seemed to have a thing for walls.

Liam took me into a dimly lit passage that offered a semblance of privacy. We stopped in the shelter of a shadowed alcove.

"That was messed up," he said.

“Well, I missed whatever Brahm said before he left.”

“I know,” Liam grinned.

Watching my face, he brought my hand up between us and placed a kiss to the already healing scratch I’d given myself. When his tongue touched it, I shivered.

Then his nose dipped to the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. “It was an admirable effort, flower, but I already knew.”

“Well, I tried.”

Liam chuckled, nipping my earlobe.

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