Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
SIGRID
Asteaming bath awaited me upon my arrival to our chambers, a sprawling suite of rooms filled with ornate furniture.
I cringed. There would be no our anything.
“Does m’lady wish me to wash her?” asked the trembling maid who stood by the tub, holding a neatly folded towel. I braced to feel the wave of her fear, to be fed images of just how she saw me…but it never came.
The king thought he’d weakened me by leashing my berserker, but it was a relief to experience this kind of quiet in my mind. I didn’t have to live in a murky swamp of everyone else’s nightmares.
“You’ve got no need to fear me. My quarrel isn’t with you,” I said with a sigh.
She nodded eagerly like she was trying to pretend she believed me. “Yes, m’lady.”
“‘Sigrid’ will do. And your name is?”
“Ethel, m’lady. I mean, sorry, m’lady—Sigrid!” Her face turned bright pink, and she cowered even more.
Her terror was so potent, I swore I could taste the residue of it through my slumbering berserker. It was almost like she’d been raised on bedtime stories about me devouring misbehaving housemaids.
I extended a hand. “No assistance required, thank you. Be on your way.”
She stepped closer and reached out a trembling arm to drop the towel into my grasp.
I spotted the ghost of a bruise on her cheek.
Evidently, the Saxons were no gentler with their women than the Vikings.
I studied her tiny frame with a pang of irritation.
At least the Vikings taught their women to fight back.
“Do you have a husband, Ethel?”
Her eyes shifted to the floor. “No.”
I set the towel on a chair next to the steaming tub, trying to remember this wasn’t my business. But if I was going to have to stare at this slip of a creature while I was here, I wasn’t going to tolerate her showing up battered. “Save me the guessing game, and tell me who smacked you.”
She was about to burst into tears, and I had half a mind to shove her out into the hall before it happened so I didn’t have to witness it.
“Give me a name, then get out.”
She flinched but glanced at the door hopefully. “The king, my lady. He’s a monster.” She whispered the last part like saying it too loudly might summon him.
I couldn’t help smiling. “A monster, you say?” I’ll gladly put that to the test.
I’d spent little time in the king’s presence. He struck me as greedy and vain, but not particularly cruel. Yet everyone’s quiet fear of him told another story.
I flicked my head towards the door, and she stumbled in her haste to flee.
Once she was gone, I dropped my robe, and with a contented groan, I sunk into the steaming bath. The tub was enormous, and the water was hot enough to feel like it was scalding my skin, but I welcomed the blissful heat.
“Now, this I could get used to.” I leaned my head back on the edge of the tub and closed my eyes.
I’m someone’s wife again.
A useless thought that could wait for later. It could go in a locked mental chest with all the other thoughts of husbands and duty and memories of those other times in my life. Fuck all of them. They weren’t ruining my bath.
Neither was the nagging thought that innocents like Ethel would be caught in the crossfire when I destroyed this kingdom.
They’d let me inside their gates; I’d make sure only a smoldering ruin remained when I strode back out of them.
This accursed kingdom had killed my youngest brother.
Only avenging that wrong would set him free from the purgatory of Niflheim and see him properly welcomed to the halls of Valhalla.
I wouldn’t deliberately hurt innocents like Ethel, but she’d have to toughen up to rebuild something from the ashes.
The chamber door opened and closed. The timid little maid must’ve scurried back to dress me or feed me or do some other foolish task Saxon noblewomen had done for them by servants. I didn’t bother opening my eyes. “I thought I made it clear I don’t need assistance.”
“Abundantly.” Not the voice of the timid little maid. My new husband’s deep baritone was edged with irritation.
“Get the fuck out,” I growled without moving.
There was a sound of the water being disturbed, and I finally looked up to find the naked prince stepping into my tub. “Like it or not, we share these rooms, Sigrid. You’re not the only one who’s had a rough day and could use a hot bath.”
With narrowed eyes, I watched him lower his ridiculously gorgeous form into the water until he sat with his back at the other end.
It wasn’t worth the struggle, so I slid my feet to one side of Bastian and allowed him to extend his long legs to my other side.
Some of the hot water spilled over the edge into a drain below.
Where the level of the water danced against his chest, a dusting of hair covered a tangle of scars. Why was he allowing anyone near his chest with a blade? “Don’t they teach proper defensive maneuvers in this court?”
He followed my gaze down to his scars and breathed a laugh. “Sometimes it’s worth the risk of dropping your guard to make your opponent commit. I suffered the wound but won the fight. Not all of us are invincible.”
I rolled my eyes. “Berserkers aren’t invincible. The belief that we are is what makes it so.”
He eyed the collar around my neck like he wanted to remind me that my powers were limited.
As though I needed to be told. The peace from everyone’s fears was a relief, but I felt a fundamental wrongness that was impossible to shake.
Part of me was missing. Yet I’d have her back soon enough.
Until then, she could rest and gather power.
I’d never heard of a berserker being leashed like this, so I hadn’t known what to expect.
I’d worried it might weaken her, but deep within me, a well of power bubbled and grew, unable to be drained, so it simply got deeper every time my berserker stirred.
When I broke the king’s spell, my berserker’s destructive force would be unimaginable.
As I continued to study the prince, I easily saw the marks my nails had left behind when I’d undressed him.
It had to sting like a bitch to submerge them in hot water, but I never would’ve known it from his relaxed expression.
He closed his eyes, so I did the same, trying to pretend I was still alone.
Moments later, I blew out a breath in irritation and opened my eyes.
It was impossible to pretend I wasn’t sharing a bath with a Saxon warrior.
Even if I hadn’t felt his feet against my hip and my feet touching his side, I was simply aware of his presence.
It was annoying to find myself wondering what he was thinking.
Was he remembering the sensation of my mouth on his rather magnificent cock?
Or lamenting the fact he’d been wed to a murderous Viking sure to kill him?
The man didn’t have enough sense to be afraid of me. It was the first thing I’d noticed on my brother Talon’s ship. In the face of all that terror, Bastian had been angry and worried about his captive crew, but his fears had never included me.
It was fucking infuriating.
He was unflappably calm. It made me want to split open his chest and rake my nails over his heart instead of his skin. To lay his feelings bare for me to examine and manipulate.
I wanted to shatter his calm.
He sat up and grabbed a piece of soap from the tray at the edge of the tub, then lathered it between his big hands. When a frothy layer of white coated them, he set the soap down and rubbed his hands over himself, probably to get my attention.
It was too effective. Watching the water and soap sluice over his skin ignited a familiar needy ache—but I was used to having my pick of partners to satiate it with.
Bastian finished washing himself and rinsed the rest of the soap off. I was thoroughly irritated at the desire it stirred low in my belly to watch his hands scrubbing at his bare skin.
So I picked up another piece of soap and worked up a lather for myself.
He’d been utilitarian about the process, but I took my time, arching my neck back as I cupped my breasts, letting the slick soap slide across my skin until I slipped my hands beneath the water, washing all the places he couldn’t see properly.
He suddenly wrapped his big hands around one of my feet and started to roll his thumbs up and down the arch. It was so unexpected, I let out a breath at the delicious feel of it.
The ridiculous Saxon boots they’d provided for the wedding had crushed my toes, and the heel had forced me to use my foot differently. It was like he knew how they ached.
When he worked his way up to my ankle, I let out a soft moan, then immediately tried to jerk my foot from his grasp. He held tight, using all his fingers to release the tension from my ankle and lower calf. It felt so good, I could’ve melted into the bath.
Which was unacceptable.
I glared at him. “I should kill you now and be done with it.”
He gave me a wicked smile. “Ah, but then you’d have to go to sleep unsatisfied.” His hands slid a little higher, brushing the back of my knee with each pleasurable long stroke up my calf.
“As though you could satisfy me, Saxon.”
He moved one of my legs to his other side so he was sitting between my calves, and then he began to rub my other foot. When he worked his way up to my ankle and then my calf, I held my breath, knowing that this time, he was close enough to reach my center if he chose to go higher.
The feral look in his eyes only fed the crackling fire of lust he’d ignited with his touch.
“Allow me to try. If I fail, you have only to give the order, and I’ll walk to the highest parapet tonight and make sure every guard on duty sees me throw myself from it.
You’ll be rid of me, and no one will be able to punish you for it. ”
He stroked the back of my knee with his clever thumbs, and it was all I could do not to groan.