Page 62 of Master of Storms
“And what makes you think it isn’t a plea?” Some part of her enjoyed the power of this moment.
He’d always held the power between them.
Desire.
It wasn’t entirely a shock—he’d pinned her to the floor the day they bound themselves together before her father’s court and kissed her with a passion that enflamed—but she knew what they said about him.
He could charm the very birds from the trees, if he wished.
Kissing her meant nothing. He’d enjoyed it, but he’d held the upper hand, and then he’d vanished without a second thought for her.
But this was personal.
She knew that right now, there wasn’t a single other thought in his head beyondher. The urge to reach for her was driving him toward the edge; she could feel it in the clenched tightness of his knuckles and the restrained way he breathed.Her. This was all her.
“Because you don’t beg.”
“Maybe I could,” she whispered. “Maybe you could teach me.”
Another thoughtful silence.
“I know what this is,” he suddenly said. “You’re trying to make my head explode.” Then his voice roughened. “Fine. Now that I know the rules of the game, I’ll warn you… turnabout is fair play.” A husky laugh filled the air. “Maybe Iwillteach you to beg….”
Solveig stilled. She knew what he was suggesting.
A singleyes, and he would be all over her—and worse, a part of her wanted that.
But she couldn’t help recalling his reaction when the king made his proposition toward her.
“Sleep well,” she whispered. “I’m sure sharing a bed will leave enough of your scent on me to ensure relations between all courts involved will remain cordial.”
A soft groan tore from him—enough to ignite a smile on her lips.
“I promise you’ll pay for this, Solveig.”
And she laughed as she rolled away from him, tugging the sheets up to her chin. “What’s the matter,sweetheart? Don’t you like it when I have the upper hand?”
The bed shifted behind her, leaving her tense with anticipation, but he didn’t reach for her. He kept his promise. “You can have the upper hand, my love, but I promise you this… one day I will have you on your hands and knees for this moment. And you will beg me to put you there.”
12
“You’re enjoying this,” Marduk accused the next morning, dragging out a chair opposite Solveig as she cracked the top of a boiled egg with a silver spoon.
“Yes, I am.” Dipping her spoon into the runny egg, she sucked it with deliberate attention. The silken mass of her hair spilled down her spine, and the robe she wore was dark green.
She looked good in green.
She’d looked good this morning too, stirring sleepily and grumbling at him as he slipped from the bed. Or maybe that had been the fact she’d trespassed on his side of the bed and somehow wound up in his arms. He’d woken with a throbbing cockstand, a waspish female glaring up at him, and a fingernail stabbing into his chest, as she warned him that if he brought that “brutish weapon” anywhere near her, she’d remove it.
It had been with great pleasure that he’d pointed out thatshe’dbeen the one who had snuggled intohim.
And now he was paying for those words.
Marduk’s lower lip caught between his teeth, and he looked at her through his eyelashes. There was something about her this morning that drew all eyes. A certain kind of vivaciousness.
“You like power,” he continued, examining her expression. “You like being in control.”
“All true, but what I really like,” Solveig whispered, leaning over the table toward him with a wicked glint in her eyes, “is taking that power back.”
