Page 46 of The Stolen Bride

“Are you going to betray me, Love?” he asked with a low, husky timbre.

My breath hitched at the implication of this newest nickname.

He scowled and corrected, “Lovie.”

I gulped. Downgraded from Love back to Lovie. The man clearly enjoyed torturing me. “No, Tor. I will not betray you. I have no need to do so. You’re the king helping me save my beloved sister. The only warrior able to succeed.”

“Let us hope your dedication proves true.” He stood as I offered him the next bite. That, too, he accepted, leaning down to wrap his mouth around my entire finger, sending a hot rush over me when he sucked his way back up, taking the morsel with him.

“Good boy,” I praised before I could think better of it.

He shifted from boot to boot, his eyes sizzling on me, his expression swinging between wild pleasure and ragged starvation.

My chest clenched. He wasn’t used to praise, was he? Oh, his men followed him, sure, but kindness, empathy and encouragement–that he seemed unsure how to handle.

Next, he attempted to adopt a stern manner. “If you value your life, you’ll stay here. Finish the meal, eat every bite, and rest. I’ll return after I oversee the defenses.”

“No!” I shouted, and he frowned. I winced. “Apologies for my volume, but I got hit by a sudden panic bomb. The last time you left me with a promise to return, I remained trapped in your tent for two weeks. I can’t do that again. I’ll go stir crazy. And shouldn’t you avoid going out? The likelihood of Deco’s attack increases greatly as soon as turul-shifters spot you.”

“IwantDeco to attack.” He slid his knuckles along my jawline, astonishingly gentle. “But I accept your invitation to spend more time with you. I won’t stay away for long.” He strode from the tent, leaving me yearning.

I stared at the entrance for a long while, excitement and anticipation butting up against foreboding. If the first thing I wanted after Viktor’s departure was his return, well, I was already in trouble. Especially now that I knew this Valkara, real or imagined, was attempting to kill the competition.

Chapter

Twelve

Lip-Lock and Conquer: Bringing Your Berserker To His Knees With a Single Kiss

–HOW TO TRAIN YOUR BERSERKER

By Elizabeth “Elle” Darcy-Bruce

Hours passed as I awaited Viktor. I tried to be a good little shelter bunny, obedient to the warrior who’d oh so graciously agreed to rescue my precious sister from homicidal bird shifters. I played the violin. Paced and mulled over his confession, my reoccurring dream, and a million other things. Searched the sheltered. Swirled around my finger the ring he’d given to Bodi, who’d tucked it inside the pack, as if he’d wanted me to have it.

After a while, my mood soured. If I’d been forgotten again, I woulddo murder!Viktor claimed he didn’t want me bottling. Well. We’d find out if he changed his mind when I finally let loose.

I twisted the metal band with more force, hoping and praying Juniper or even Deco would contact me. If the hologram projecting jewelry was dangerous, or some kind of GPS device, the king wouldn’t have demanded it be brought with us, so, I had no qualms about keeping it.

Over the course of the day, outside noises filtered into the tent in waves. Sawing. Hammering. Grunting. What were they doing out there, exactly? Oh, I got that they were building traps and defenses. But what kind of traps? What kind of defenses? And how many weapons were out there, being ignored, ready to be pilfered?

Finally, curiosity got the better of me, and I marched to the exit to peer out at the campsite. When I spotted the soldiers, I performed a double take. A shirtless, sweaty Viktor worked alongside several of his shirtless, sweaty men, each sharpening long tree branches into spears they then anchored into the ground and pointed up to the sky.

My gaze returned to the king. Droplets slid over glorious mounds of muscle. White locks stuck to his brow and curled adorably at the ends. He muttered to himself, and though I didn’t hear him, I knew what he said. The shape of his gorgeous lips formed three clear words.Find. Destroy. Happy.

I still didn’t know what, exactly, he meant. He’d never confirmed or denied my suspicions. Maybe I’d nailed it, and he searched for the key, hoped to destroy the shifters, and could then gain happiness. Maybe I was a hundred percent wrong. Either way, his strain had worsened.

With Viktor’s promise that I could keep any weapons I stole front and center, I looked over the selection. Some of the men sat before a firepit, sharpening swords, daggers, andarrows.

“Clover?”

Hearing my own voice but not being the one to speak threw me. Then realization dawned, and I jerked backward, raising the hand with the ring. And there she was. A small, holographic image of my twin. She suffered no injuries that I could see. Bore no chains or restrictions, either.

“Juniper.” Love overwhelmed me. Heart racing, I rushed to the pallet to hide myself from anyone who entered. “You are okay?”

“I am. For now.” Worry glazed her expression. “Deco has given me five minutes to convince you to sneak away from your king and meet him at a location of his choosing.”

So he already knew of Viktor’s survival. How many spies did Deco have positioned nearby?

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