“This is an arrangement to help you win a war,” I say to Alwar. “But my heart and body are off the table. I will do what I want with them with whomever I want.”
He snarls. “You wish to be my wife and whore around?”
“Whore is a strong word, but yes, those are my terms for this marriage, Alwar. If you want anything else from me, you have to earn it, and I have to give it freely.”
Another loud boom sounds off in the background.
“Hurry,” I add, giving him a dose of his own medicine. He’s putting me in the pressure cooker for good cause, but if I’m not afforded the time to read the fine print, then I have to protect myself. He can’t fault me for that.
“Then I will earn it,” he says.
I didn’t expect him to say that. What exactly is he planning on earning? It can’t be love because he’s far too cold a man to love anyone. He cares about his kingdom, his throne, and his honor. Nothing wrong with those, but love isn’t on the list as far as I can tell.
The woman urges us to say the words I vow. Alwar goes first, and I follow.
Suddenly, I hear the loudest scream. A man’s voice.
My skin tingles, and my stomach lurches. I feel myself fading from this moment, this reality, into a dream I can’t stop reliving. I’m in the tub with Benicio, and the water is stained red from my blood. He’s contently drinking from my neck. I can’t stop asking him to bite me again, to give me more of that bliss only he can deliver.
“You cannot have her! I will kill you, Alwar!” Benicio’s deep voice rumbles in the background behind Alwar.
This is not part of my dream. It’s real.
“He knows,” says Gabrio.
“Knows what?” I ask.
“That you and Alwar made a marriage vow,” says Gabrio. “It has been written on his skin. Now we must be quick to consummate. Or we will lose the advantage.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt.
My eyes bulge from my head. “You want me to…with you? Now? Now-now?”
Gabrio lays the shirt on the floor of the attic. “Yes.”
“You can’t be serious. Let’s at least go downstairs and—”
“No time.”
Alwar doesn’t hear us, and I think it’s because he doesn’t care. There are sounds of death, fighting, destruction coming from somewhere near him.
I stare into Gabrio’s green eyes. At least he’s a beautiful man.
He places a hand on my cheek and smiles. “Do not worry, Lake Norfolk. I will be gentle.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I don’t know which part of having war-emergency sex with Gabrio was more awkward. That as I removed only my pants and lay down, I could see Alwar through the window, stomping Mountain Men into red splatters. Or that he actually stopped killing for a second, and we locked gazes while Gabrio, who was on top, pumped away between my thighs.
Alwar instantly lost his shit, looking like he wanted to reach through the window and murder Gabrio. Instead, he turned his back to us and began tearing through the swarm of small soldiers in the room, who were attacking with spears and ropes, trying to pull Alwar down. All I could see were dozens of bodies, probably about my size, being flung through the air.
I had to look away until Gabrio finished. I could feel Alwar’s rage. I just didn’t understand why he was so angry. I was doing what he asked. And it wasn’t as if I was enjoying the sex. It was mechanical. Impersonal. Also Gabrio was large—very large. He literally spit in his hand to ease things along. The sex was not romantic in any way, shape, or form, yet it was exactly what I expected from a War Man. Primitive fucking.
Then the moment he came with a carnal groan, Gabrio quickly got up, locked the window, and wouldn’t look me in the eyes or say a word. He looked angry, too.
What the hell is with these guys?
I gave up everything so the War People would have a fighting chance. I married a warlord ten times my size and then let some man I hardly know be inside me.
But Gabrio couldn’t muster a single word? Nothing like, Hey, everything will be okay. Or I hope I wasn’t too rough—are you okay? Nothing. He dressed and left the attic.
Whatever just happened, it seems none of us were happy about it.
Now back in Bard’s cottage, I turn on the hot water in the shower and step inside. I’m filthy. My legs and armpits are their own special kind of Monsterland. I don’t know how Gabrio tolerated being with me. I’m a damned skeleton. A dirty, skinny sasquatch.
I wash my hair twice and take my time exfoliating, shaving, and conditioning with the supplies I bought earlier in the day before poor Dave was mauled. I can’t stop thinking about it, but I have to. For now, I have to push it all away and rest.