"Your eyes," he said, sounding awed. "They burn for me."
I'm not alone in this. Might not ever be alone again. A wave of vulnerability crashed into her.
Then the worst happened.
One moment she was horny, ready for another go, the next she was sobbing as if a treasured friend had just been murdered.
Tears poured down her cheeks, her entire body heaving.
Gillian hadn't shed a single teardrop in centuries. Now she could do nothing to halt the tide.
Puck wrapped his arms around her, held her through her sobs. He even combed his fingers through her hair, murmuring things like, "I understand. You once experienced betrayal, and this...this is freedom." And "I cannot stand to see my warrioress cry." Followed by "Tell me what to do and I'll do it."
He did understand. He'd suffered betrayal, too.
He'd called her warrioress.
He'd given her an orgasm. Her first. And she'd only had to wait five hundred and something years. The fear she'd suffered with so long...the nightmares...the pleasure her abusers had stolen from her... It was wrong! It was criminal! She'd been cheated, hurt, destroyed, ruined--
No! Not destroyed. Not ruined. Her body had been used by others, yes, and her self-worth had been kicked, punched, beaten and stabbed, but she'd picked herself up off the ground, she'd stood, she'd squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, and she'd lived. She'd learned to fight back. She'd helped others in need. And now she had this. A sexual experience born of mutual desire. A kiss worthy of going to war, if only to have another. A cherished memory to overshadow those she hoped to one day erase.
"I'm sorry I ruined the mood," she said when she caught her breath. The breakdown probably should have left her hollow and weak, but she felt invigorated, as if a broken bone had finally reset and healed stronger.
"Don't be sorry." With gentle swipes of his thumbs, he wiped the tears from her cheeks. So tender. So surprising.
"Do you think I'm weak now?" she asked with a sniffle.
"I think you stronger. The things you've had to overcome...you are an inspiration to me."
I inspired a great warrior such as him? She had to blink back a new round of tears.
"That was the first time you've ever climaxed?" he asked, still so tender.
There was no smugness in his voice, only curiosity, and perhaps a bit of pride. The only reason she responded. "Yes. That was my first time choosing my partner, too." Tenderness, gratitude and affection replaced her vulnerability--each directed at Puck. "Should we...take care of you now?"
A pause. Then, "No." He released her and backed away. "I should go."
Go? No! She didn't want distance from him right now--she wanted communion. "Stay." Please.
He gave a curt shake of his head. Then, before her eyes, he changed from a source of comfort to torment, from needful to removed.
The Ice Man had returned with a vengeance.
She told herself, I'm too wrung out to be upset about this. But she wasn't a fan of platitudes and wouldn't lie, even to herself. She was upset. Cutting disappointment nearly cleaved her in two.
Knew he would get off and run. Knew it! And it hurt just as badly as she'd suspected.
Although, he hadn't gotten off, had he? And yet he'd still found the strength to abandon her. Ouch.
What had caused the change in him? Why wouldn't he let her bring him to orgasm? Why would he deny her the privilege?
With this version of Puck, demanding answers would get her nowhere fast. "I wish you'd stop Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde-ing into the Ice Man. He's a real bummer. And yes, I just turned names into a verb."
"We're going to talk," he said, ignoring her, his voice no longer filled with smoke and gravel, but frost.
Uh-oh. This couldn't be good.
Unease swamped her. Still, she pasted on a smile and crossed her arms over her chest to hide her puckered nipples, all I've got nothing better to do.
Mistake! She remembered how badly he'd wanted to attend to those aching nipples, but she'd protested, hoping to get off quickly. Foolish girl!
Next time she would...what? Would she welcome a next time? What they'd done had rocked her whole world, true, but this...this she couldn't tolerate. Acting as if nothing had happened, staring into uncaring eyes, unable to respond as she'd like without possible consequences.
Whoa! If there was a problem, Gillian fixed it. Consequences be damned. From now on, she would respond however she dang well pleased!
"You're right. We're going to talk." Though her legs were like jelly, she managed to walk to the couch Peanut had mauled and ease down. "You once told me Princess Alannah of Daingean is your female. Arranged marriage, blah, blah. Did you turn me down because you're saving yourself for her? News flash! I doubt she's saving herself for you. She's engaged to your brother. Has been for a while, though they've never actually pulled the trigger."
He offered no outward cues to his thoughts, the jerk.
Gillian had interacted with the princess only once, but had watched her, curious, anytime they'd visited the same village market at the same time.
Alannah was pretty in an understated way, soft-spoken and timid. My opposite.
Their conversation had been short and sweet.
Gillian: I hear you were once engaged to Puck Connacht.
Alannah: Y-yes. But he has horns now and--
Gillian: I'm his wife, and I enjoy killing anyone who disrespects him.
Alannah: Please, excuse me.
"Why does it matter?" Puck finally asked. He sat in the decimated chair across from her.
"Just making conversation, as you wanted. If you'd prefer, I can go back to the party...and William."
Still no reaction from him. Uh-oh. Maybe she shouldn't have gone there? Puck wasn't some schoolboy with his very first crush. He was a prince and future king, a warrior to the core and the keeper of Indifference. Though he desired Gillian--in his own way--he could walk away without hesitation, any time, any place. As he'd proven.
"I liked the idea of her," he replied, and relief careened through her. He moved a hand over one of his horns, as if self-conscious--impossible. "I ran into her after my possession, after my appearance had been altered. She fled."
Ouch. The rejection must have hurt, even if he hadn't felt the emotion at the time.
Wait. Did emotions build up inside him, and erupt later? If he needed ice to control his reactions...she'd guess yes.
Leaning toward him, she said in a stage whisper, "Want to know a secret?"
He shook his head. Then he scowled. Then he nodded. "Tell me. Tell me now."
Do I detect eagerness? Won't smile. "I've always considered you beautiful."
He gave her a look--one of hope and longing--only to hide it behind an indifferent mask a second later.
Her heart squeezed as she said, "What did you like about the princess?"
"The look of her, and that she was going to be mine. I didn't actually know her."
"You don't know me, either," Gillian pointed out. "Did you want to touch me only because of the way I look? Or because I'm already yours?" A fact you insisted I say out loud.
"I know plenty about you."
"Oh? Do tell."
"You..."
"What?" she insisted.
"You like helping people. You dislike liars."
"Facts I've told you. Hardly a news flash. I know you like the thought of hurting your brother, and you dislike William."
"Your favorite hobby is collecting trophies from the men you've defeated."
"Something you gleaned from said trophies hanging on my wall." The corner of her mouth lifted. "I think your favorite hobby just became collecting orgasms from your wife."
His chest rose and fell in quick succession, but still his expression remained blank. "You want to stay in Amaranthia, even after we divorce. Not just to keep your clan together, but to continue ruling your clan. You believe no one else can see to their well-being as completely as you."
All
right. Maybe he did know her. "Correct again."
"But you can't stay here."
Instant fury. "You're going to try to kick me out of Amaranthia once you're king? And notice I said try."
"I won't try. I will do."
"So you lied to me. Again," she grated. "After you promised to always tell me the truth."
He didn't even flinch. "I didn't lie. I changed my mind."
"Why did you change your mind?" she demanded.
"Because I can." His gaze was as cold and detached as the day he'd broken her finger, just to prove a point. "This is my realm."
All right, she was a little too screwed in the head at the moment to deal with this. With him. "I'm done chatting with you. I don't like you when you get this way, so I'm going back to the party."
He said nothing as she stood and stomped off, soon entering the cool of the night. A second later, however, the door slammed. Footsteps echoed. Puck had followed her.
Her pulse points raced, her skin and blood heating, her body ready for round two.
Ignore him. As she approached the feast, a familiar buzz sped along her nerve endings. She stopped abruptly, breathing deeply to circumvent a Hulk-out.
"What's wrong with you?" Puck came up behind her, his warm breath caressing the back of her neck, adding kindling to her blood, sending shivers down her spine, and she gnashed her teeth. "You aren't going to argue with me?"
"Is that what you want?" She kicked into motion, and he kept pace. "Me to argue with you?"
"No. Yes. I don't know."
"Until you figure it out, back off."
Laughter boomed, now at a higher volume than the music. "Gillian!" Johanna called. "Come. Join us."
"She doesn't know you've already come," Puck remarked conversationally.
More shivers, more heat. But oh, he had no right to mention their dalliance after threatening to boot her from Amaranthia.
What was it that drew her to him? Besides the obvious, of course--his otherworldly beauty, wicked kisses and glorious touch. Why respond sexually only to Puck? Only the bond? Surely not. Her mind wanted him as much as her body.
Had to be the way he sometimes looked at her, as if she was a revelation. The way he sometimes focused all of his intensity on her, as if nothing else held any importance.
Addicted...
Johanna and Rosaleen sat beside a grinning William. Grinning, until he noticed Puck.
Puck must have noticed him, too, because he stiffened. "I want you to stay in my realm," he said, his voice soft, "but not with William. I'm tempted to gut him every time I see the two of you together."
What the ever-loving what! All this you've gotta leave nonsense over jealousy?
What am I going to do with this man?
Before she could think up a reply Puck stalked around her to rejoin the feast. Not knowing what else to do, she followed him.
*
When did I begin to love punishment and seek it out?
Puck tracked Gillian's every move as she chose a spot next to her generals, and William--across from me.
She wants me to watch her interact with the male?
Happy to oblige, wife. But she could blame no one but herself for his response, whatever it might be.
As one minute ticked into another, she avoided looking in Puck's direction, rousing a flame of anger. Her eyes were windows to her soul--and she thinks to deny me a glimpse into her soul? After she'd made him want her more than he'd ever wanted anything.
In his arms, she'd taken what she wanted, when she'd wanted it. She'd come alive, kissing and clawing and panting--for him, only him. And when she'd cried, she'd broken something inside him.
She'd revealed a potent wit and sass, as well as an earthy sensuality he'd found charming.
The keeper of Indifference? Charmed?
Hell, the keeper of Indifference enchanted.
Puck would love to blame the bond for his fascination--and growing obsession--but could he? He'd yearned for Gillian before the ceremony.
His gaze slid to William. The male laughed at something someone had said, though his body remained tense. He knew something had happened between husband and wife. He must. Gillian's eyes still burned, the kindling set aflame.
And I'm responsible. I lit the match.
Seeing those flames had done something to Puck. Had changed him. He'd never felt so on edge, or fevered. The demon had been loud--was loud--but then and now he'd easily ignored the fiend.
Passion had become a fire in his veins. Every inch of him had needed.
When would it end?
Earlier, when he'd first spied Gillian at the feast, he'd nearly hit the sand, as William had done. Only, Puck would not have been pretending. He'd been hit by a tsunami of blistering arousal, his knees going weak.
Then a desire to kill had risen. Had his wife dressed for the Ever Randy?
Puck slammed a fist into the dirt. A colorful scarf covered her hair, except for the tail ends of multiple braids. The material was too thin to be a deterrent for the wind, making it purely decorative. Beautifully decorative. Strings of crystals hung over her forehead. She'd replaced her tattered clothes with another formfitting leather halter-top to bind her breasts--breasts he'd had in his hands--leaving her midriff only partially covered by metal links. A kilt-like skirt stopped mid-thigh, her long legs on perfect display.
I've had my hand under that skirt. Want it there again.
She'd wanted it there, too. Had begged. She'd wanted him.
Will take what's mine!
No, no. Stop this!
Could he stop? He wanted to howl at the night sky. Wanted to shake Gillian and kill William. Maybe he would kill William, once he had the crown.
But Puck also wanted to kiss Gillian breathless. Wanted to touch her until she moaned and writhed and begged some more...wanted to claim her, sinking deep inside her again and again, nothing held back.
Fool! He should have taken her while he'd had the chance. But he hadn't. Because, as her tight inner walls had squeezed his fingers, and her pleasure had drenched his hand, he'd nearly come. Would have come, if he hadn't forced himself from the brink. And when she'd cried, clinging to him, and he'd offered comfort for the first time, he'd experienced a measure of contentment, despite his crazed need for release.
He already felt possessive of Gillian. If they consummated their marriage, if he branded her, he would never let her go. His sense of possession wouldn't allow it--despite Indifference.
To keep her, he would have to send William away, before the terms of their blood oath could be met. That meant giving up the Connacht crown, damning his realm to Sin's destruction and his people to misery.
Puck had known Gillian only a few weeks, and had spent even less time in her presence. He could not, would not, forget his goals simply to experience momentary bliss.
Bliss he'd craved for centuries.
He peered at her now, this woman who both calmed and incited him. Ribbons of firelight shimmered over her golden skin, and he thought, Maybe I can forget my goals.
No! The madness had to stop. He would continue as planned.
Once he used the shears, Gillian's desire for Puck would wane, anyway, and her feelings for William would resurge. She would choose the other man. Leaving me with nothing more than an unwelcome memory.
Therefore, he would not touch her again. Too risky. From now on, he would remain the Ice Man. He would resist his wife, no matter how potent her allure.
A shrill blast of a horn suddenly cut through the entire camp, and the dancers stopped. The music ceased. Everyone tensed.
"Go, go. Prepare for battle," Gillian called, jumping to her feet.
The crowd of females rushed off, gathering weapons along the way.
William palmed two daggers as he stood. "What's going on?"
"Retaliation," she replied, the single word dripping with relish. "We're about to get a magical refill."
Ears twitching as they detected a familiar march pattern, Puck clo
sed in on his wife. "A Walsh army approaches."
"Yes." Still Gillian avoided looking in his direction, tempting him to force the issue. "We have traps set around the outside border. I tested them myself, and know it will take the soldiers roughly three minutes and twenty seconds--if they're good--to reach our walls. And my sword."
24
As William launched into a diatribe about keeping Gillian safely hidden, Puck noticed the fury pulsing from his wife and seized an opportunity to prove himself a better man. At least for her.
"I will fight by your side," he said. She didn't need skill for the coming battle, because he would protect her with his life. He would make sure nothing and no one got past him. The soldiers who focused on her would die first.
"Seriously?" Finally, she peered up at Puck.
He saw fire in those whiskey eyes--and gratitude. A strange clenching inside his chest sent Indifference into another tirade.
I get it, demon. You prefer the cold. Boohoo. Now shut your fool mouth.
"You trust me to win?" she asked.
As Puck held her gaze, he comprehended just how badly she wanted to be valued for her combat skills. To prove herself strong, brave and free--the characteristics she'd once longed to possess.
Puck trusted her to deliver. She'd been trained by Cameron and Winter. She'd started, ended and restarted wars. She'd survived five hundred years without his aid--she could survive another battle, another day.
"Can the staring contest end now?" William stepped between them, a now familiar transformation overcoming him. Eyes flickering red. Lightning flashes under his skin. Smoke and shadows rising from his shoulders.
His abilities continued to stump Puck.
What was he? What did he have that Puck did not? How would he overthrow Sin when Puck could not? How had he earned Gillian's adoration?
How can I?
Unimportant! Keep your head in the game.
"Pucker!" William snapped. "Are you even listening to me? If Gilly dies because of this attack, you die, and I leave your people to their demented king."
"No one is dying," Gillian said.
A woman flew by, accidentally bumping into her. Apologies were made as she stumbled forward. Puck reached for his wife, but William beat him to the punch, flashing to catch her and blocking Puck.
Fire blazed inside him. Get between me and her? "I warned you, Willy." Puck had decided to remain hands off with Gillian, yes, but that in no way meant the other male could swoop in.