Page 41 of Vow of the Undead
“My tongue, it can do a lot more.”
The blush burned across my chest again. The last time I felt a tongue between my legs was more than a year ago. Bjorn was patient, skilled even, but my release had always required more, and more was what King Drakkar had promised.
I bit my lip hard enough to break through this depraved lust. Blinking again, I tipped my chin up. “What is thisapproval?” I’d start there with my questions. “Isn’t it clear your people already see a future in our betrothal?”
Hand still gripping the goblet, he ran his knuckles along my jawline. “Eager to make this official, are we?”
I frowned. At least my face obeyed while my traitorous thoughts dipped into a darker realm. Once we were wed, he’d touch so much more than just my chin. My husband-to-be was just like the warriors in the sagas I craved, skilled with a sword, powerful, dangerous. The kind of man my mind always conjured when I slipped my fingers between my legs.
Strong in both will and form.
I wasn’t short like my mother or slim like the women of his court, but he’d just as easily tossed me onto his horse as if I were the weight of the goblet in his hands. How quickly could he throw me on my back? How easily would he flip me so that he could sink his fingers into the softness of my waist as he did during our ride?
“We don’t have to be married to do what you’re thinking,” he said.
I looked away, feigning sudden interest in the courtiers who eyed me. With this blushing distraction, I hadn’t even noticed their harsh stares. Each icy glare served me well as it cooled the heat that’d flushed over my skin and built between my legs. Cooling now, the blush faded and King Drakkar would stop guessing at my thoughts.
“You have no idea what I’m thinking.” I spoke through a frown.
“That the courtiers don’t approve.”
I snapped my eyes to him. He’d never taken his gaze off of me.
“You see beyond a person’s surface.” He said it as if he’d known me for years.
“And?” I challenged him. If he was so skilled at observation, what else had he learned about me? Didhe know I wanted to find Ragna and free my mother? That I considered him the key to passing my trial from Freya?
“And that’s what makes me fascinated with you.”
“You know nothing about me.”
He laughed and took another drink, emptying the goblet. When he stretched out his arm, a servant materialized from the dim shadows of the crowds, courtiers talking in muted tones, commoners dancing and eating recklessly.
The young woman did not fill his goblet from the bronze pitcher in her hand. Instead, she took the cup away and reappeared moments later with it full.
“Silver, I think you’ve forgotten we spent several days in deep conversation. That you slept beside me at the camp, your body curved into mine?”
“For warmth. That is what everybody does during winter travel.” It was nothing more than survival.
“It isn’t winter yet.”
“The early snow begs to differ.” I eyed his cup as he brought it to his lips. Not once did he offer it to me. The customs in Mara might be different than Skaldir, but from what I’d heard, it was normal everywhere in Vylheim to pass around drink and share food. “Tell me something I don’t know about Mara.” This was the most neutral question I could think to ease into my own version of an interrogation. I couldn’t very well command him to lay bare secrets he and other kings had kept for a hundred years.
“If you come and sit with me.” He slipped his hand into mine and pulled me toward the throne.
“Do you mean, on you?”
He glanced over his shoulder, his grin apparent by the lift at his cheekbone. He dropped my hand and turned, then gripping my waist with both hands, he sat and positioned me in his lap.
“Now look at the people, Silver. What do you notice about them that’s different from Skaldir?”
“They’re rude.”
His laugh rumbled against my back. “That is obvious. I know you see more, dig deeper.”
Even though I was a seer, this wasn’t how a witch’s magic worked. I didn’t notice anything about others beyond a basic need for survival. If they weren’t a threat, I stopped assessing them.
“The courtiers are cold and the servants act like they’re in a trance. People from my village are sharp and full of life.” I twisted to face him. Even if he said he valued truth, I wanted to see evidence of this on his face. “Where is Ragna?”
