Page 40 of Knightfall
“Hale. Ryan Hale. We’re ‘married’ remember?”
I ignored his sarcasm as I shoved my finger into his chest. “Did you spell your soldiers into following you? Or did you earn it?” I waited, and let that sink in. “I earned your hatred. Fair and square. By a stupid, impulsive choice that I happened to think was the right thing when I was eighteen. That hatred’s mine. I’ll earn your respect, too. One day, I’ll earn it. I’ve spent my entire life trapped by magic and Mother’s stupid spells. I’m not about to use magic for something as idiotic as a love spell that wouldn’t even work on you stubborn bastards.”
“Why not?”
“Hedge magic has limits. You have to be open to it. Unlike mage spells—which are higher level and can sard you over completely—thank you, Mother. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m turning to ice.”
Sard it all. He thought I was as bad as my mother? I brushed past him toward the wardrobe and grabbed out one of my dresses at random. I sort of hoped the distance spell would make him trip after he’d been such an utter ass. But no such luck.
He followed right behind me. I started unbuttoning my sopping dress in front of him, ignoring the perusing stare he gave me. A second ago I’d considered letting him use my body. Then he’d had to go mention spells. If he thought I was that much of a bitch, was there any way this could work? Maybe not.
My fingers were stiff from being cold and wet. I struggled with the buttons on my wet dress. After five buttons, they refused to work. I tried and tried again but the next button in line refused to budge.
“Need help?” Ryan asked. His voice turned husky.
“I think they sewed this button on wrong,” I complained, trying again. My fingers slipped.
“Here.” Ryan gently moved my hands away and pulled on the button. It slid free on his first try.
“Thank you,” I said, avoiding eye contact. Humiliating. I felt like a dalcop. Being undressed like a child by a man who thought I was heartless enough to make him a spelled plaything.
Ryan’s hands were surprisingly gentle as he released button after button and slowly slid the gown off my shoulders. It puddled on the ground beneath me.
His breath caught as he eyed my cold, hard nipples through my chemise. The white fabric was soaked and did nothing to hide them. Ryan’s eyes dilated. His fingers fisted in my chemise and he slowly pulled that over my head, knuckles scraping every inch of skin along the way.
I shivered but not from the cold. A tiny part of my mind wondered if Ryan would actually have been gentle with me our first time. I’d never know.
When the chemise was gone, Ryan took my hand and led me over to the fire. “Get warm and dry first.” He stood me in front of the fire and tossed his warmed shirt over me. He yanked the hem down and fussed over straightening it, as if that mattered. But it let his fingers brush my thighs.
I gasped involuntarily.
Ryan met my eyes and his look was hard. Almost scary. “You want to earn your way back, Bloss? Without love spells?”
I nodded.
“Then drop to your knees.”
I watched his eyes closely. He had been pushed and pulled and played like a puppet by my mother. Maybe to earn his trust, I needed to let him pull my strings. Let him take charge for once. Let him be in control instead of controlled. I slowly slid onto my knees.
Ryan looked shocked right out of his dominant persona. “You did it. I didn’t think you’d do it.”
I quirked a grin at him. “Unlike my sixteen-year-old virgin self, the idea of a little rough play, dirty talk, or a finger in my ass doesn’t scare me.”
“That’s what made you run that night?”
I put my hand on my heart. “Didn’t even know that ass play was a thing. I swear. I thought you’d meant to tear me apart.”
He laughed and held out a hand. He yanked me to my feet. I was shocked. My mouth had been level with his cock. I’d been certain he’d been about to take advantage of that fact.
“Honesty gets you out of the mood?” I questioned.
Ryan winked at me and gave another booming laugh. “No. But we have an audience.”
My father Johann stood in the doorway, avoiding looking directly at me. He ran a hand uncomfortably through his stiff grey hair. “Your mother needs you. She said it was a political emergency.”
Shite.
Chapter Twelve
