Page 117 of Prize for the King
“I think I fell in love with you that day you let me make you come on horseback.”
I gasp, my eyes flying wide open in shock. Magnar looks at me seriously, then slides down my body, pressing many warm kisses to my belly. My ribs flare with every breath as I stare at the top of his head, his expression hidden as he licks my lower belly from the line of hair up to my navel.
“I don’t know what tipped the scales,” he murmurs into my skin between kisses. “Maybe it was the way you joked with us in the morning, or, admittedly, me coming in my pants. An orgasm can sometimes lead to love. I am almost convinced it happened after you let me touch you, though. When you told me to put your father’s head on a spike. Just like that, I was in love.”
“Magnar…” I begin uncertainly, but he bites my hip with the gentlest pressure, and I yelp. Red, evenly spaced dots color my skin, made by the tips of his sharp teeth.Gods.
“Of course, I had vowed to love you, so it was only a matter of time. Maybe it happened that day because for the first time I felt hope you might forgive me. Killing someone’s father is a grave sin, and I had specifically promised you he would live. Any wife would hate her husband for breaking such a promise, no matter the circumstances.”
“I’d like you to stop,” I whisper, choking on unshed tears and violent emotions. “I don’t want to speak about my father in bed. Please. Never again.”
My body feels frozen and numb, guilt, shame, and disgust infecting my every breath. Magnar looks up, his brows pulling into a frown. Whatever he sees must convince him I’m serious, because he sits up fast and pulls me into his lap, cradling my head to his chest.
“All right. Never again.”
We sit in silence, and I don’t even have the strength to embrace him back. The urge to cry recedes, replaced by dark emptiness. Magnar was so warm and delightful, but now, I don’t even feel him much. It’s as if I turned into a statue.
“Tell me about it,” he whispers, stroking my hair.
“Nothing to tell.”
He sighs and shuffles until his back leans against the headboard, and he holds me close, breathing evenly. Oh, I hate myself. I hate that it still affects me so much. He’sdead.Gone! Yet I can’t even enjoy timealone with my husband because of the dead man’s shadow.
I feel so filthy, broken, unfit. Magnar shouldn’t touch me, or the rot might spread to him.
Yet there is no necrosis left by my father’s violating touch. All the scars are in my soul, where only I see them.
“I’m sorry,” Magnar murmurs, reaching around me to pull in a duvet. He drapes it over my shoulders.
“You don’t have to apologize,” I say, my throat too numb to color my voice with emotion. “I should be sorry. I am. All you wanted was to mate your wife, and here I went and spoiled everything. Though, maybe not. You still can. If you want.”
“Mhm, and you’ll just lie there like a corpse and pray for it to end. No, thank you. We’ll try again, love. Now rest. I think I can hold you for half an hour longer. Then I’ll bring in Khay, all right?”
More guilt crushes me, but at this point, I welcome it like an old friend. It’s so familiar.
“You’re so busy, and I’m making you waste time. Please, go back to work. I’ll be fine.”
He clicks his tongue chidingly. “Being with you is not a waste of time.”
I sigh and settle in, and Magnar hums a slow, rhythmic song. Minutes pass, ten, then twenty. My skin warms up, and I begin to feel again. The shadows recede, and soon, it’s only me and him, skin to skin. He keeps humming as he runs his fingers down my head and back, and I sigh with regret when my body awakens completely, the familiar ache returning between my thighs.
“Are you feeling better? You’ve warmed up.”
I nod meekly, pressing my palms to his sides where his ribs undulate with his every breath. Magnar sits up higher and clears his throat. I feel him harden, but he says nothing.
I don’t have the right to ask for it, and yet the longing is too horribleto bear. I brace for refusal and look up.
“Could we try again now? If you have to go, I’ll understand.”
He nods, face serious as he studies me. “Are you sure you want to? You’re not doing it just to please me?”
I smile, biting the inside of my lip, and leave the darkness behind.
“Well, I enjoy pleasing youandI want it very much. I want you.”
He nods but hesitates. “Is there anything I should avoid in the future?” he asks after a pause. “Apart from what we discussed.”
“Nothing comes to mind right now.”
