13. Chapter Thirteen #2
He stopped a handsbreadth away, his brow furrowed.
“You believe you are of no use? No use, when the little growl you make when you’ve bested someone on the sparring field haunts my dreams?
No use, when the lithe strength of you, and the memory of how you arced beneath me in my bed makes me tremble?
No use, when I want nothing more than to bend you to my will, and bend to yours, when the thought of our mutual surrender had me fisting my cock every night you were gone? ”
Her eyes skated over the ridged muscles of his abdomen, latching on the dark trail of hair that began at his navel, and strayed between his thighs. He was fully aroused, and she imagined him gripping himself, just as he’d described, and snuck out her tongue to wet her suddenly parched lips.
Brun didn’t know what possessed her to whirl into a dead sprint.
The sand spun beneath her, the salt spray stung her face, and her heart thundered in her chest with excitement and exhilaration.
She had no doubt he would catch her, and the low hum of his laughter as he gained ground, rang in her ears.
She dodged his grasp and switched direction, careening inland toward the cliffs.
He caught her by her braid, and hauled her body flush against his own.
He propelled her toward the cliff face, and when they reached it, he kicked her feet apart and circled her wrists in an iron grip, pressing them against the stone.
The gap he created seemed to have been made for the wedge of his body, and she felt the warm damp of his bare skin through her thin tunic.
The scent of brine and arousal was nearly overwhelming, and when he scraped his teeth against the mating scar, she bit her lip to stifle her moan, tasting blood.
He didn’t smell of fish or seaweed. This close, with him hovering over her shoulder, the scent of stinging salt spray and sun-kissed waves was intoxicating.
“If you’re offended by my scent, Fireheart, we needn’t wait to indulge in our sea bath,” he pronounced as he slid his hands around her waist. When he hoisted her aloft and she was dangling over his shoulder, he sprinted back across the sand, laughing merrily.
She half-heartedly thumped his back with her fists.
He leapt into the water as if he was still prancing in his four-legged form, and set her carefully down in front of him.
“What if I don’t need a bath?”
He dropped his forehead to hers and shook his head slightly. “You are in graver need of a bath than I. You reek of my enemy’s fortress. I’ll wash you and you’ll wash me, and we can let each other know when we are no longer offensive.
Brun could hear the head of teasing in his voice, so she didn’t bristle at his assessment. At least not as much as she would have a fortnight ago.
He swiped his thumb across her bottom lip before letting the pad of it rest in the middle of her chin.
She cleared her throat. “Shouldn’t we go a little further if you intend us to bathe?
” The water lapped just above her knees, the tide swirling in and out, a blue so clear she could see the outline of every pebble smoothed and rounded by the waves, and the pale gleam of her toes.
“The footing is treacherous, with a sudden drop beyond the edge of the reef. We brave the deeper water only if you are fastened to me like a barnacle clinging to the belly of a giant fish.”
“And how are we to accomplish that?”
“If I transform so you can ride astride, I’ll smell of the seaweed you claim to despise. So you’ll have to cling to my waist or lock your legs around it.”
Brun knew locking her legs around his waist would intensify her yearning, but she needed to see his face instead of the back of his head. She took a deep breath to steel herself. “I’ll lock my legs around your waist.”
“Good choice, wife,” he smiled as his hands cupped her arse.
She nearly flailed backward when he hoisted her in the air, until she remembered to lock her ankles the base of his spine. “You could have warned me,” she muttered.
“Hold on, leannan,” he chuckled as he began walking backward.
“Shouldn’t you be looking where you’re going?” She asked as she threw her arms around his neck in a panic.
He laughed again. “I’ve been swimming in these in the waters around these shoals for nearly a thousand years, and you needn’t worry I’ll drop you or drown us.”
“I don’t know if I should trust you,” she admitted somewhat breathlessly.
He came to an abrupt halt, and his forehead dropped to hers again. “I vowed to protect you with my sword and shield, and my hooves and teeth when necessary. I failed you once and it will never happen again.”
“I do not blame you. You couldn’t have known your enemy was watching me.”
“You should blame me. I underestimated him to your detriment.”
“I am whole. Mayhap a trifle bruised, but whole.”
His grip tightened. “It will never happen again,” he fiercely promised.
“You can’t control the random acts of others, mate. Or shield those you care for from their violence.”
“I’ve done it before. I can do it as long as I need to,” he said as he lifted his hand to cup her jaw.
Brunhild shook her head. “No. There is a better way, we must simply find it.”
“The Cut-Throat Maiden is looking for a solution that doesn’t involve spilling blood?”
Her laugh was raspy in response. “I offered no such solution. All I am proposing is an approach that doesn’t require your constant vigilance.”
“I have no reason for vigilance now. Will you help me relax, wife?”
Brun stroked her palms down his chest, curling her fingers into the lattice work of his scars.
The sigils seemed to heat beneath her palms, and she slowly traced each one.
When she reached the one that began below his left pectoral and ended in a swirl of blue around his right hip, he bucked into her and groaned.
“You shouldn’t touch that one,” he warned through gritted teeth.
She gave him a sultry smile. “Why not, husband?” She asked as she stroked the tail of the tattoo.
“ ’Twas placed there to acknowledge the first kill made by my beast and he stirs within me when you pay such close attention to it.”
“Your words don’t deter me, rather they intrigue me,” she admitted as she dipped her head and watched her fingers glide over the taut golden skin once again. The ridge of the scar seemed to pulse against the pads of her fingers.
He roughly tipped her chin up. “Do not say I didn’t warn you, wife,” he said as his lips landed on hers with a bruising, furious kiss that stole the air from her lungs.
“You don’t feel relaxed, husband,” she wickedly observed as she dipped her hand beneath the water and closed it around his staff, gripping it all the way to the end and brushing her thumb over the tip before she let go. “I don’t think my ministrations are working.”
He tossed his head back, the corded muscles of his neck and shoulders drawn sharp. “They’re workin’ lass,” he growled.
When she closed her hands around him again, he dipped his head and peered at her from beneath hooded lids.
His eyes glittered as he pushed himself into the circle she’d made.
“I liked watching you do this to yourself,” she softly confessed as she stared, mesmerized.
By the piston of his hips beneath the water.
When she raised her eyes from her perusal, he kissed her again. “I prefer your hand to mine.”
He upended them into the water with a splash, floating easily on his back. His hands remained on her, holding her to him and preventing her from falling.
Brun brushed her dripping hair from her eyes and gave him pointed look. “I can’t very well continue in this position without tumbling into the water.”
“The waves will cradle us, wife. Ride my beast.”
“You’ve quite the exaggerated opinion of your size and prowess.”
He reached up and tweaked her nose. “ I mean my true beast, and well you know it.”
Brun could feel his arousal beneath her, and when he kicked his leg to propel them backward, her hands clasped his torso so tightly she could feel every rib. “Unlike you, husband, I’m still clothed.”
“That is swiftly remedied.”
“Your aunt would garb me in nothing but skirts and scoffs at my trews. This is the only pair I have.”
“I’ll ensure your wardrobe is full of nothing but trews, wife. They display your limbs, and your sweet little arse, to perfection. Will you be rid of them?”
Brun knew there was no point in dissuading him, and despite her protests, she’d thought about the feel of him gliding inside her during her imprisonment. The realization that she might never feel it again, or the clamp of his teeth at her throat, had saddened her.