But Breanne took his silence as assent. She went to fetch the box of salve, and he lay upon his stomach, trying to gather the remnants of his control. He focused on the pain in his muscles, of the never-ending ache in the scars. When she smoothed her hands over old wounds, he groaned. But it was not from pain—it was from desire.
As she touched him, he dug his hands into the furs. Breanne knew the right amount of pressure to ease the tightness in his flesh, followed by a gentle smoothing touch. He revelled in her hands upon him, until she revealed, ‘Your brother said that your wounds were caused by Feann.’
Her statement was like a bucket of ice poured over his body. He rolled over and sat up. Her expression was guarded, a warning in her eyes. ‘What else did Rurik tell you?’
‘He told me that the attack happened on the day you were supposed to be married. And your brother wanted to stop you from causing a war.’
Alarr wanted to curse, but he held back his anger. He didn’t want to tell her any of it. The memories were too raw, and locking them away was the only way to bear the pain. Instead, he held a stoic silence, keeping his emotions in a block of invisible stone.
‘Was Rurik telling the truth?’ she ventured.
He gave a single nod. ‘I couldn’t walk for over a year. My brothers took me into hiding and I lived with the healers until I recovered.’ The memory of that agony washed over him, along with the feeling of helplessness. He’d been unable to save his father or his wife. Alarr met her gaze and added, ‘Feann killed my father, my bride...and my ability to fight. I won’t forgive him for it.’
Her face appeared horrified by his confession. Regret and guilt transformed her expression, and she reached out to take his hand. ‘I’m so sorry for what he did to you. I cannot change the past, but you saved my life today. And I am grateful for that.’
He sensed that she was nervous about something, but he could not guess what. Slowly, she unbraided her hair, letting it fall across her thin shift.
‘I thought I was going to die.’ She reached to touch his heart and murmured, ‘But you found me when I was in danger. Not my foster father. Only you.’
The slight weight of her palm pressed down upon his guilt. Alarr seized her wrist and held it there. ‘Don’t pity me, Breanne.’
‘It’s not pity. You won that fight.’ Her green eyes held sympathy, but he didn’t believe her. He had barely managed to keep his balance. One wrong motion, and they both might have died.
‘I’m not the man you think I am.’ He leaned in close, meaning to intimidate her. ‘I will have my vengeance against Feann for what he did. And I don’t care who stands in my way.’
‘And if I stand in your way?’ she ventured.
He refused to let her make him into a hero, when he wasn’t. ‘Stay away from me, Breanne,’ he warned. He could smell the aroma of her skin, and he gripped her hand, trying to maintain his control. ‘I’m not safe right now.’
‘I don’t want you to be.’ She wrapped her arms around his neck to embrace him, and the fragile hold he had upon his control shattered. He crushed her mouth to his, savouring the taste of her warm lips. She kissed him back, and he could not get enough. His hands moved over her shift, wishing he could tear it into pieces. Instinct claimed him now, and he pressed her back towards the furs, needing her body beneath his.
Alarr wanted to caress her bare skin, making her crave him as much as he desired her. He knew Breanne’s virginity should belong to her husband. But when her hands slid beneath his tunic to his bare skin, he no longer cared about anything except touching her. He laid her back upon the pallet, kissing the soft skin of her throat. She gasped, digging her fingertips into his hair and arching her back.
‘Alarr,’ she whispered, moaning as he tasted her skin. Her eyes were closed, and she bit her lower lip as if she were trying to gather command of her feelings.
His brain warned him again to stop, but he was past the brink of control. He wanted her to fully understand what she was offering, to taste the danger. And if he could touch her intimately, it might frighten her enough to keep her distance.
He peeled back her damp shift, revealing her round breasts. Her nipples were pink, the tips erect and tempting. He gave in to his own desires and bent to taste one. Her shuddering gasp made him grow rock hard.
Never in his life had he needed anyone as much as he needed her.
Chapter Four
Breanne could hardly gather her thoughts as he suckled at her breast. Sensations flooded through her, and between her legs, she grew wet. No man had ever touched her like this, and she didn’t know how to stop him.
Nor did she want him to stop.
Her emotions were tangled up in a knot, and she knew it was a mistake to start this. And yet, right now, she wanted to push away the fear of death and embrace life. She wanted to seize a moment of pleasure, knowing that it would fade away, come the dawn.
A part of her wanted to draw Alarr closer, to convince him to leave her father alone. If he cared for her, he might one day abandon his vengeance.
But for now, she surrendered to his touch, not knowing where it would lead. He feasted upon her, his hands moving lower as he laved one nipple and then the other. He caressed the tip, and she nearly sobbed with delight. It was an aching torment to have his hands upon her, and her brain fought for clarity.
The
