Page 9 of Storm of Desire
"Did you miss me, wife?" he snarled, locking away thosefeelings.
"What are you doinghere?"
"What am I—" He cursed, and then banked his rage, even as thunder grumbled in the skies. "Did you think I would forget you? Did you think I wouldn'tlook foryou?"
"I—"
"You vanished," he rasped. "Without a word, without a single trace. And you dare think I wouldn't come afteryou?"
"Is that why you're here?" she whispered, her gaze darting over his face hungrily, as if she'd almost forgotten what he looked like. "Forme?"
And he didn't know himself what the truthwas.
Árja—no, Árdís—still looked the same, and she still smelled the same—wildflowers and green grass mixed with the aftereffects of a summer storm. He'd told himself he'd locked his heart away behind a wall of steel, but just the sight of her aroused feelings he'd thought longburied.
Pain,mostly.
Regret and bitterness, and worse, that whispering sense of desperation within him that promised if she'd just kiss him, just once, he could forgeteverything.
Forgiveeverything.
The skies opened up, a curtain of rain drenching them. Árdís's gaze lingered on a droplet of water that clung to his lips, and damn her, but his cock clenched, and he could almost taste her skin on his tongue. He knew every inch of her body, and the sounds she made when he kissed his way down her body. He knew the feel of the soft curve of her spine as she lay in his arms, her breath softening into sleep. The past flickered between them, ghostly images of a thousand memories he knew they both saw in thatmoment.
Lies.All of them silky, torturous lies designed to cripplehim.
If he had any heart left, he thought it might have finally crushed him, but he was cold and empty inside. The storm of fury was all he had left, and even then she brought him to his knees with but one hot, silky-lashed look from thoseeyes.
Somehow he turned his head toward poor Bjorn and Tormund. "Leaveus."
The pair of them vanished withoutargument.
"I am here for retribution," he said, his voice smoky and rough. That wouldn't do. He couldn't let her see how low she'd brought him. "I am here because I've spent the last seven years hunting for you. Killing dragons. Becoming little more than a mercenary. I have lost everything—my honor, my way of life—because of you. I won't ask you to repay that debt. But I will have answers from you, Iswear."
Thunder rumbled. Slowly, he forced himself to unhand her, stepping back and curling his fists at his sides before he gave in to the temptation to brush the wet strand of hair from herlips.
He'd thought he was ready to bury this connection between them, but one glance into those amber eyes revealed the truth: he could never escape what she'd done tohim.
"Come."
"Why should I? You tried to kidnap me. Your man put a bag over my head. You could have gotten himkilled!"
Tugging a bracelet of beaten gold from his pocket, he snapped it around her wrist. Light flickered as the ends fused together, and Árdísgasped.
"What are you doing? What isthis?"
"The hessian bag was a distraction. And the cuff is a means to keep you confined until I am done withyou."
"What have you done tome?"
"Insurance," he growled. "I made a little deal with a sorcerer I trackeddown."
Árdís tried to pry apart the golden links. He could have told her there was no point in trying. Until he said the words to release the spell, the bracelet would hold her in her mortalform.
"I can't feel my magic," shehissed.
"And you won't be able to access it until I release you. You owe me a confrontation, Árdís. And I'm not going away until I've hadit."
She shoved him backward into a wall, and he hit hard, surprised by her strength. Then she shook her hand, her amber eyes flashing with fury when she clearly encountered the spell work within the bracelet—a spell that would keep her confined to her mortal shape, unless he took it offher.
