Twenty
Liam
The heavy door to my father’s private study swung inward, its hinges complaining. I stepped inside, my boots muffled by the thick furs that lined the floor.
The air was steeped in the scent of old leather, accompanied by hints of sweat and blood. My father sat behind his grand desk carved from the heart of an ancient oak, while Gunnar leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest, mirroring our father's stern demeanor.
"Sit," Father commanded, nodding toward the chair opposite him.
I obliged, sinking into the rough-hewn seat. The Drótinn’s eyes, pools of dark resolve, met mine.
"We left two alive," he informed me. “But they're broken, useless for now after the first round of interrogation."
"Useless is putting it mildly," Gunnar added with a sniff, flicking a speck of dried blood from his sleeve, like the rest of him wasn’t speckled with it.
"We learned what we needed.”
Those words caught my attention. “They talked?”
“They did.”
“Well?” If he was going for dramatic effect, he was succeeding.
“Those bound to the pact against Raina are all dead."
The cold knot in my stomach started to unravel. Dead. But was it over? For Raina, at least?
"However," Brahm continued, his gaze drilling into me, "do not grow complacent. The nymph should not return to Greenhollow just yet."
The very thought of her living away from me twisted in my chest like a blade.
"Your concern is noted.” I reached up to rub the tension coiling at the base of my skull. It would take more than a massage to alleviate what ailed me.
Father grunted.
"Do you plan to release the prisoners to Nox?" I asked.
He grunted again, his dirtied face twisting into a sneer that spelled doom for anyone on the receiving end. "After I've tortured what I need from them. And be warned, my need for retribution is great."
"Your thirst for pain is concerning," I deadpanned.
“Your concern is noted,” he returned, lips twitching.
Gunnar shifted in his chair, the leather creaking under his bulk. "And how is your nymph?"
"I haven't been back to the infirmary." My voice was flat, my words barely skimming the surface of my turmoil.
"Seems unlike you to leave her alone," Gunnar pressed.
"The attackers have been handled. I posted extra guards, two of whom can portal and are within arms reach. Plus Mirrelle is with her."
"Ah, so you've left her in capable hands.”
I let Gunnar’s joke fall, my fingers digging into the worn leather of the chair arms. The dim light from the stained-glass window scattered dozens of hues across the study. The purples were my favorite.
The silence stretched until the Drótinn decided he’d had enough of it. “Let’s hear it, son.”
My face lifted to his knowing stare. My father had changed over the past couple of years. He laughed more and killed less.
And he asked his sons questions. Personal ones, demanding truth, not for him, but for ourselves. It was half the reason I rarely spent much time here.
Nonetheless, as uncomfortable as it made me, I understood and appreciated what he was trying to do, ham-fisted as he was with others’ emotions.
"It seems I have been less than wise with Raina."
Father’s intense gaze didn't waver, nor did Gunnar's. He leaned back, arms folded over his chest.
"Before I left her in the infirmary," my throat tightened around the words. "Before I left, I demanded we marry at once. I told her I was going to get the Gothi right then. I might have said she didn’t have a choice. I don’t know what actually came out of my mouth.”
Gunnar pursed his lips. “That was a ballsy move, brother.”
“Or insane. She looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. I’m starting to think I have, and not for the first time."
"What else?" Gunnar prodded.
"Oh, I took it a step further.” A bitter laugh escaped, more a growl than anything resembling mirth.
“I asked her if she loved me.”
“Asked?” my brother smirked.
“Demanded. Asked. Same thing. Regardless, she didn’t answer. Just stared at me dumbfounded."
Father's expression softened just enough that one might miss it if they didn't know to look. But I saw it, the slightest crack in his militant fa?ade.
"Liam," he rumbled after a moment heavy with unspoken words, "I think the first thing you need to ask yourself is, can you live without her?"
The idea of it punctured my ribs and burrowed into my lungs. "I don't know.”
“Then let me put it another way. A more important consideration, if you will.” His voice now carried a weight that threatened to pin me to my seat. "Can you be happy without her?"
"No." The word was out before the thought fully formed, as instinctive as scratching an itch.
"No," I repeated with a certainty that anchored itself deep within my bones. “I cannot.”
My father's eyes were unbending. Knowing and expectant, like when he was about to give an order he expected to be followed. "Then I suggest you do something about it, son.”
I blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of the solution that had evaded my muddled thoughts. But before I could respond, Gunnar's chuckle sliced through the tension.
"Or just throw her over your shoulder and run off into the sunset. That always works in the tales." A smirk played on his lips.
"And how did that work out for you and the blood fae?" I couldn’t resist throwing his own female troubles back at him.
Father turned those knowing orbs on my brother. "I’m looking forward to that tale."
Gunnar flipped me off playfully, but his eyes sparkled with the shared jest.
"Let's adjourn," Father finally declared, pushing away from the desk with a grunt. The three of us stood, the heavy chairs scraping against the floor.
"Got a plan then, Liam?" Gunnar asked, his gaze piercing me with a mix of challenge and curiosity.
"Always. But it doesn't mean it's a good one."
"Ah, my sons," Brahm laughed deeply, slapping me on the back with a force that nearly staggered me. "You bring me great joy. You are both idiots when it comes to females, but, by the gods, I find it immensely entertaining."
I shook my head with mock exasperation, yet somewhere beneath it all, warmth spread through me at the bond we shared. Something I’d taken for granted, that I couldn’t fathom never having experienced.
Like Raina hadn’t. She’d been alone. For so long she had been alone.
"Father, your own run-ins with the fairer sex wasn't exactly a ballad of triumph," Gunnar reminded, the words rolling off his tongue as my brother and I united in rare accord, our eyes glinting with mischief.
"You think I don't know? Your mother made sure to embroider those tales right inside your skulls." He paused, shaking his head with a mixture of fondness and resignation.
"She was trying to keep you two from being idiots, as your father had been. When she returns from her trip to the Otherland, I look forward to telling her it didn't work."
With that, we trudged out of the study, tired and aching from the battle. I went to the guest house and showered in the room assigned to Raina, collapsing onto the bed, surrounded by her scent.
I had a plan, but my flower needed rest, and so did I. I’d give us both this night and not a minute more.
The pounding on the door dragged me from the depths of sleep. I rolled out of bed, muscles protesting the sudden movement, and stalked toward the sound.
More knocking.
“Sir?” a young male spoke through the door, his voice edged with urgency.
I swung it open, startling him.
“Yes?”
"Drótinn Brahm summons you to his study for a meeting. He said to tell you … that I am to tell you …”
“Out with it,” I didn’t mean to be gruff but I was half asleep.
“Sir, he says to move your ass or he’s starting without you.”
Of course he did. “Understood. Thank you."
The male might have said I was welcome but I’d already shut the door and got my ass moving, worried something had happened.
Bursting into the study, I stopped in my tracks. Raina stood near my father. Others were there but she was all I saw.
A silent assessment confirmed she bore no new wounds, nor any traces of the old ones, and something within me settled just a fraction.
Then, movement from the corner. A silent monolith approached. Memories of our last encounter, when jealousy and misunderstanding had turned words into weapons, hung between us.
Without a word, Lorne raised his fist to his chest. I mirrored his action, and we clasped one another’s fisted hands with our free ones.
Relief flooded through me. I owed him more than a mere apology.
“Lorne,” I nodded. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, as well.”
“Thank you. But why are you here today?”
Lorne nodded to my father and I gave him my full attention.
"What's happened?"
"I have new information," he grunted, "from our captives. Lorne was summoned because what we've learned isn't for prying eyes or loose tongues."
A spike of adrenaline flooded my bloodstream. I wasn’t going to like whatever he had to share.
Looking from me to Lorne, he asked, "Does the name Sidra mean anything to you?"
I forced out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. My eyes instinctively sought out Raina, but she might as well have been a statue for all the connection I felt.
She wouldn't meet my eyes, and I couldn't blame her.
"Yes," I answered, rubbing the back of my neck where tension knotted. "I know a female named Sidra Blake.
The name tasted like bile on my tongue. She was ambition personified. Many males found her so polished and smooth they didn’t know she was toxic until they were choking.
At first glance, I’d thought the same. Then I was forced to interact with her on behalf of my king.
I had escorted Sidra to several social gatherings, endured her vapid conversations, and dodged her not-so-subtle manipulations. Twice Raina had witnessed this charade, her violet eyes sparking with emotions I couldn't decipher then or now.
Bedding Sidra had crossed my mind. She was absolutely stunning. Curves for days. Plush red lips. Thick dark hair and a wicked sex drive to match. Few resisted when she was on the prowl.
For me, the thought had evaporated as quickly as it came. Sidra was the type to climb in your bed and in your head, trying to fuck you both ways.
Once upon a time, she had warmed Nox's sheets. It was reason enough to keep my dick in my pants.
I was struggling to maintain composure at the mention of that damned name. I never touched that female, but Raina had seen Sidra’s hands on me as she flirted and made overtly sexual passes.
And like the asshole I was, I played along enough to make sure I wouldn’t have to deal with Sidra’s pouting.
Father's eyes narrowed, and I knew whatever came next would be the kind of truth that shattered illusions and laid bare the rot beneath.
Lorne’s voice, flat and factual, shook the uneasy quiet. "Sidra was involved with Nox," he declared, each word measured.
“A former lover?” my father tried to clarify.
Lorne’s lip curled disdainfully. "Hardly the term I'd use. Their interactions were confined to four walls and a bed. They did nothing together outside of the bedroom. Plus the term lover implies intimacy beyond fucking and that never happened.”
"Then perhaps," Raina offered, her voice devoid of inflection, "I should refer to her as your former lover, Liam. After all, you paraded her around publicly, shared meals, laughed at her hollow jokes."
The muscles in my jaw tightened until I thought they might snap. Her words hit hard, reminding me of my own foolishness, of how it must have looked to her, watching me with Sidra. After all the other horrible shit I’d done, Raina could only think the worst of me.
Lorne angled his body to Raina, drawing her attention away from me. "Liam was playing the part of a barrier, Raina. He was not one of Sidra’s bedmates, whose sights were set on ensnaring Nox again. She thought she could make Nox jealous through Liam, but our berserker here was merely running interference."
“What do you mean?” Raina asked.
“He kept Sidra away from Nox. She didn’t take well to the king ending their … time together. She was relentless in trying to lure him back into her bed. She showed up everywhere he was, vying for his attention at a time when Nox needed to focus and figure out who was targeting the royal line as he dug for information among the high and mighty. Nox tried to task me to run interference but apparently I’m not suave enough to fool anyone. So Liam was the sacrificial lamb.”
I remained silent, my gaze fixed on Raina, willing for her to lift those violet eyes to mine. Slowly, she met my stare.
"I did not fuck that female. Nor do I consider anyone other than you as having ever been my lover. No one else has ever held my heart. They never will."
Her reaction was subtle, a slight easing of the furrow between her brows, the faintest softening around her mouth. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
"Father," I turned back to the matter at hand. "What does Sidra have to do with all of this?"
Though I put it out there, I was thinking we already knew.
"Both prisoners have named Sidra as the leader of what they referred to as The Movement. She was the one who found the buyer for Raina. Though," he looked at the female in question, “I’m sorry to say, my dear, that idea came directly from your parents. The money was going to help them fund The Movement’s plans. Apparently those who contributed the most would benefit with positions of authority under the new regime.”
Sidra. A name we all knew all too well, yet never expected to hear in such a damning context.
She acted more like a feline in heat than a criminal mastermind. A ripple of incredulity ran along my backbone as I tried to square the frivolous socialite I'd known with the image of a clandestine leader.
As Father continued to brief us on the finer points of what they had learned, my mind churned with confusion and rage. How had I not seen it?
My entire job was to keep others safe. To notice, down to the tiniest fragment of a threat, and prevent it from causing harm.
I’d failed. Failed King Orson. Failed Nox. Most gut-wrenching of all, I’d failed Raina.
"Wait.” My hands lifted, unable to contain the urgency that was surging within me.
All heads turned in my direction.
"There's something I need to say, right now. To you, Raina."
She looked at me, her small frame rigid.
"I know, with every fiber of my being, I know that we are meant to be together. And I believe you know it, too."
Surprise registered briefly on her face before it was replaced by a cautious glimmer of hope. The rest of the room faded away and my world narrowed to the space between us.
"You are mine. This is your warning that, whatever it takes, I will make it so," I vowed, my hand slamming onto the table with a resonant thud. "If it fucking kills me, I will make it so.”
My declaration dangled between us. For a moment, I thought I'd breached the walls surrounding Raina's heart. Before she could reply, the room erupted in reactions.
"By the gods," Brahm muttered, his beefy hand sweeping across his face in disbelief.
Mirrelle's laughter rang out, sharp and disbelieving.
"Perhaps you should tone it down just a tad, little brother," Gunnar advised, his voice laced with amusement.
"Coming from you?" Mirrelle snorted, her eyes gleaming with mirth. "That's rich."
Lorne rose, unflappable as ever. "It’s nice you pulled your head out of your ass, Liam. Now pack your shit because we need to inform Nox. I’ll be out on the deck eating the meal the Drótinn had prepared, but we will leave as soon as you three return with your gear.”
“Raina and I will be out in a minute.”
One by one, the others filed out, leaving a trail of chuckles and shaking heads behind them. The door closed with a soft click, and the room fell into an expectant hush.
Then she was there before me, her small hands pressing against my chest like twin brands. My heart slammed against my ribs, each beat calling me to action.
Her touch was a balm, yet it seared, burning through layers of armor I’d built up over our time apart.
"Show me Blómhaus," she requested.
"Will you marry me if I do?" The words tumbled out and there was no calling them back.
Her fingers curled into my shirt, pulling herself up on her toes, her breath mingling with mine. "Take me there and find out."
The challenge in her eyes was a gauntlet thrown, and I was already reaching for it.
Swooping her up, I crushed my lips to hers. Raina's arms wound around my neck, clinging as though she might never let go again, and in that moment, I was nearly whole.
"Blómhaus," I breathed against her lips as we spun through the shadows of the portal, landing in the secluded sanctuary I'd designed and helped build with my own hands.
As soon as our feet touched the floor, Raina’s fingers went for the fastenings of my tunic, her movements fevered and desperate. My blood roared, a tempestuous sea crashing against the cliffs of self-restraint.
"Raina," I warned, capturing her wrists gently but firmly. "Not until I have all of you."
Her eyes met mine unflinchingly. "I am ready, Liam. All that I am, I give to you."
The words ignited something deep inside my soul. A claim, an oath, a need so profound it bordered on sacred. Yet, I reined in the burning tide.
"All of you means marriage, flower."
Frustration flickered across her face before she surveyed Blómhaus, the haven I'd kept secret. Her gaze softened as she took in what little she could see of the master suite.
"Fine," she huffed, though curiosity replaced irritation as she peered at the strange flora singed into the wood paneling and painted in soft colors, the shades of her irises as I remembered them.
"If you’re not going to let me have your cock, then at least grant me a tour."
Even now, with desire a tangible force between us, she could disarm me with a few well-placed words. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to kill the erection straining to get out of my pants.
Raina entwined her hand in mine and told me to hurry because we were short on time.
Sorry we had to rush, but ecstatic at the shift in our relationship, I was too distracted to remember she technically hadn’t said yes.
No matter. I’d be rectifying that as soon as we returned to Thornewood.
Then I’d lock my little nymph in our quarters and make sure she knew exactly to whom she belonged.
Forever.