Page 23 of The Holly King's Sacrifice

“You drink Elixir?” I ask.

“Only once—if we’re lucky,” he says. “Some species overuse Elixir and destroy what once made them people. But we drink it once, only at our marriage feast. And we only do this when we are certain that we wish to be bonded to our partner forever.”

I frown. “And what does it do?”

“It matches our lifespans,” he says. “And it connects us for life. No matter where we are, we can always find one another.”

My heart pounds at his words. It’s too early to think that about him, of course…but something about it makes me want to throw myself into the deep end. At my core, I’m certain that he’s posing a question.

I could do this with him, I think.

Couldn’t I?

“And what does that have to do with fate?” I ask.

Ulfric opens one of the pouches and pulls a gold bracelet from it, formed in the shape of barren winter branches. He kneels beside the bed, then takes my left hand and slides the bracelet over my wrist, clicking the latch into place.

“There is an old tale,” I say. “One that my people dismissed as superstition long ago. But we go through the motions every solar cycle…and here on Earth, we have brought the tradition back to life, for we are losing this war.”

He takes my other hand and slips a matching bracelet over it. Both are studded with gemstones: rubies and emeralds, the color of holly and mistletoe.

“Tell me the story,” I whisper.

“You’ve already heard it,” he says. “Of the Holly King and his Snow Queen.”

“So we didn’t invent the term,” I say.

“No,” he says. “But…in a way, yes. We visited Earth millennia ago, and we passed on our tales of Yrsa, the Allmother, and the many forms of her paramour. In the winter, he is the Holly King—and their joining heralds the dawn of the new year, and the return of light to the world.”

“So you think that I’m the Snow Queen?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

Ulfric holds my right foot in his hand, his touch gentle, and kisses a line up my shin. “I think that your mind is open, and your will stronger than most humans or Skoll,” he says. “I do not care if you are the Snow Queen; I care only that you are Aspen.”

Sparks fly across my skin from where he touches me, his hands finding my other foot. He kisses that same line up my opposite shin, then the golden anklet slides over my foot.

“Stand before the fire, my Snow Queen,” he murmurs. “And let me worship you.”

He stands and disappears into the bathroom connected to the cottage, leaving just one velvet pouch behind. I stand, trying my best to ignore it even though I’m dying to know what’s inside. When he emerges, Ulfric carries a basin of water and a cloth, the water steaming. He kneels at my feet with his water and cloth, looking up at me.

“If you would grant me permission to touch you,” he says, his silver gaze meeting mine.

“Yes,” I whisper.

My hands find his antlers as he moves the cloth from my feet to my knees, then up my thighs. His touch is electric, bringing me to life, reminding me of the pleasure he gave me last night. He washes between my thighs, but it merely sets my desire alight, making me sigh under his touch.

“The trials,” I say, trying not to fall into bliss again. “What were they for?”

“Every other year, your people have betrayed us,” he says. “But you were inquisitive, curious, brave…and you have captured my heart.”

His cloth runs over my breasts, and I realize the water smells of cranberries and cinnamon. I close my eyes and try to ignore my pounding heart, and how much I want him to take me again.

I don’t open my eyes until Ulfric reaches my face, taking my chin in his hand. He runs his thumb over my lips, staring deeply into my eyes. We’re still naked besides the golden cuffs on my wrists and ankles, and the whole room smells of hearth and holly.

“Why were you asking me about fate?” I ask.

“Because we were destined to meet, Aspen,” he says. “I am as sure of that as I am of the annual return of light to this planet.”

I stand on my tip-toes to kiss him, opening to let in his tongue. We stand in the light of the fire as I feel his arousal growing once again, prodding at my belly.

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