Page 33 of Master of Storms
The nearness of him. The scent. The way herdrekiraged to be set free every damned time she saw him.
The way his amber eyes watched her.
She’d taken lovers in the past, but none of them had made her feel this way, and he hadn’t even touched her. She’d forgotten how intense his presence was. Given enough time, she’d even begun to think that perhaps she’d imagined it. Perhaps the way he affected her was merely a youthful… infatuation of some sort.
She hadn’t overestimated it.
It hit her with the weight of a dragon at full charge, and every inch of her was tight with horrific tension.
She was going to get no rest tonight, and she needed it if she was going to keep her wits about her. There were elves afoot and a treacherous trip ahead of them.
And she hadn’t missed the number of guards stationed within theZinicourt—or the fact Marduk had been skirting the truth with the best of them when he insisted his brother had sentenced them to confined chambers.
Solveig rolled over, glaring at the recumbent figure before the fireplace.
Golden light gilded Marduk’s hair. He’d removed his shirt, and the gleam of bare skin drew her attention before she firmly looked away. She was not going to look at his bare chest. She wasnot.
She knew he was awake.
He knew she was awake.
This was growing ridiculous. “Go to sleep.”
“You first.”
“What’s wrong? Afraid I’m going to cut your throat while you’re vulnerable?”
“No.” He turned his head toward her. “You gave your word you wouldn’t harm me until this was done, and if there’s one thing I believe in, it’s that you would never break a promise.”
She snuggled into the sheets grumpily. There was nothing one could take affront at within that statement. “Then what’s the matter?”
He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“You would be surprised at the levels of stupidity I expect from you.”
“Fine. Just remember, you insisted.”
Solveig offered him an evil smile. “Awe me.”
He stretched, tugging at the blankets around his waist. “You smell… nice.”
“Nice?”
“Apparently, Icanshock you.”
“I’m not shocked. I maintain a certain level of hygiene, and my soap is milled from….” She suddenly realized what his irritability and constant shifting of that blanket meant. “Nice?” Her voice hit new levels of depth. “If your cock is hard right now, Marduk, I will punch you.”
“Don’t take it as a personal affront. It’s been a while since I’ve felt anything but the touch of my own hand. And my brain equates the smell of you with that moment I had you beneath me. It doesn’t take much for my cock to signal its enthusiasm right now.” He snorted. “Don’t tell me you can’t smell me all over your skin? You’ve been sniffing my blankets ever since you climbed into my bed. It’s distracting.”
Stop using the words “smell me all over you” and “my bed”.
“The idea that I’m drowning in your scent is insulting. I’m trying not to think about it. You stink like cheap wine and arrogance.”
“I haven’t drunk anything in over a month. Rurik’s virtually a priest these days. And that stink is the scent of your prejudice.”
He threw his pillow at her.
Solveig captured it and dragged it into her mound, intent on hoarding it. “That was a hasty decision. You’re not getting it back, and now you’re going to spend the rest of the night suffering for it.”
