Chapter 34 Brothers #2
I realize the carpet is their fighting area. It’s almost as if they’ve arranged this. Like it’s a match.
“What the fuck couldn’t I handle?” Magnar roars.
His swing connects with Khay’s stomach, but the younger man barely grunts, his flesh not giving way to Magnar’s fist. He cuts up, aiming for Magnar’s chin, but the king is too fast for him. He pulls his head back at the last moment and kicks Khay’s shin, making him stumble back.
“That she might hate you!” Khay screams back, baring his teeth. “If you only let her in, she’d…”
“Might?! She fucking hates me and you know it!”
Magnar drops into a savage crouch with breathtaking speed and kicks Khay’s legs from under him. Khay lands flat on his back, the air wheezing out of him. Magnar straddles his chest and slams both hands into Khay’s shoulders, keeping him down.
“Because I forced her, and then I killed her fucking father, and she’ll never forgive me!”
Arvi tries to pull me back surreptitiously, but I struggle harder, and Magnar seems to catch the movement. He looks up, baring his teeth when our eyes lock. His are brimming with rage. He stands up in a fluid, graceful motion, and steps over Khay. Arvi lets me go, but I don’t manage to speak.
My husband stands in front of me, his bare chest undulating with each heaving breath. I stare into his face, scared and mesmerized. Gods, he’s devastatingly handsome.
“Well then. I’m fucking done,” he says, and my heart drops into my bowels.
That’s it. He’ll cast me out. He’s done with me.
“I’m done playing nice. Nobody fucking follow. I’ll have my wife like I want her. Alone.”
He throws me over his shoulder with a grunt, and I gasp but don’t fight him.
My relief is too powerful, and the heat pounding in my lower belly makes it impossible to speak.
His body is hot under mine, masculine and alive, and I grab onto his braid when he walks fast, palm settling possessively on my bottom.
“Taunting me with this dress,” he bites out through gritted teeth as he squeezes my flesh through the silk. “This what you wanted, wife?”
I’m about to reply, but we pass two Agnidari women wearing luxurious velvet dresses. They speak hastily in high-pitched voices, dropping into low curtsies. Magnar ignores them, speeding up until he’s almost running.
My face is hot from embarrassment that they saw me in such a position, but Magnar feels no shame. He pulls his hand back and brings it down, not hard, but there’s a sound. I choke on my gasp, and he massages that butt cheek with a murmur.
“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, pet.”
“I don’t hate you,” I choke out.
His palm descends again, and I whimper. It doesn’t hurt, the smack is pure heat and impact, but it’s humiliating in a hot, breathless kind of way.
“Not what I asked you.”
“I don’t know!”
We pass another person, a male servant, I think, and I just catch his wide-eyed stare when he straightens from a deep bow.
Magnar curses in the Agnidari language and takes the stairs three at a time. “Shouldn’t let others see you like this. All mine. I don’t care we’re sharing, you’re only mine today. You there! Close your fucking eyes or I’ll have them out!”
We pass more Agnidari, all of them locked into deep bows, their faces obscured. Magnar steps into the corridor which I think is where the bedrooms are. He pulls a door open and walks in, not stopping until he reaches the bed.
This isn’t my room. It’s much darker and more austere, the bed not as enormous, though still large. Half-drawn curtains flutter in the breeze from an open window.
Magnar heaves in a large breath, then lets me stand on the bed. His face is closed off, brows drawn tight. We’re face to face, and I grab onto his shoulder for balance as I kick off my shoes.
He squeezes his eyes tight and clenches his teeth, the barest sound of suffering escaping his pursed lips. His voice is choked up with regret.
“I terrified you, didn’t I?”
“No.”
I take his face in both hands and tug him to me, kissing everything I feel into his mouth. I am determined to make him understand.
My husband grunts and deepens the kiss, his tongue possessive and violent, hands urgent as they smooth the silk down my hips and buttocks.
I let myself be lost in his caresses, breathing in his scent, tasting him with pleasure until my body moves on its own, my leg trying to hook around his hip, my arms pulling him closer.
Magnar pulls away, breathing hard, and looks into my eyes.
“How was my mother?”
“Terrible,” I say honestly. “She’s agreed to teach me how to be a queen. I’ll keep seeing her.”
He shakes his head and pulls me in, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I hold him as tight as I can, and he lets out a long breath, his shoulders dropping. He kisses my hair and murmurs softly into my ear.
“You’re tougher than you look. If she’s out of line, tell me. Please. I’ll set her straight.”
“I can deal with her. Magnar, I’m sorry about what I told Khay that night. I should have kept my mouth shut.”
He laughs derisively and pulls away to look at me. “Not your fault. I’m just so fucking jealous, but I will deal with it. Khay was helping.”
“I want to help, too,” I whisper, fingering the edge of his sharp ear until he swallows roughly.
“Good. Undress. I don’t want to tear this pretty thing, because you’re going to wear it for me again. Every time you want your husband inside you, you’ll wear a pretty dress.”
I laugh with embarrassment, slowly pulling the fabric up to my hips. “Um, I believe pretty dresses are the only ones I have.”
“I know.”