Bride of the Sea (The Prophecy of Sisters #2) - Hayley Faiman Page 0,63

he and I. Maybe it’s solely because he’s the king and his people wish to always be around him, especially his closest men?

“Aaric?” I call out once we have rinsed off the sand and dirt in the small tub that he had some boys bring in.

I still haven’t discussed his use of slaves and the way that I feel about them with him. He knows how I feel, but he doesn’t know that this is something I would really like to change about their practices.

“Já, Liv?”

I’m wearing a clean see-through undergarment dress, tucked in beneath the furs in the bed. I watch as he feeds the fire, stoking it and staring at the flames as he waits for me to ask what it is I’m about to ask him.

“When you go on this raid, what will happen to me? Where will I be? You cannot mean to take me on the actual raiding.”

He turns to look back at me from over his shoulder. His lips twitch into a grin. “You’ll be at the camp, guarded by Hagen.”

“With that woman, no doubt,” I grunt.

“Isolda?” he asks, but I can hear the laugh in his voice.

Slowly, he turns to face me. My eyes take in all of his markings, his talisman to his gods. They’re sexy as shit. I’m kind of glad that we’re here in his world, if he were in the city, I couldn’t beat the bitches off of him even if I tried.

“Yes, her,” I grind out.

“Why do you care where she is?” he asks.

Slowly, he crawls onto the furs and even slower he makes his way toward me, like a panther. When he reaches me, he doesn’t stop, I lean back, as he practically forces my head onto the pillow.

He’s smiling down at me, his eyes dancing as they watch my own, his lips twitching into a cocky smirk that I love to hate so damn much.

Lifting my hand, I wrap my fingers around the side of his throat. He has marks that my nails made earlier and I know that I should feel bad, but I don’t. The fact that he wears them, it does something to my insides.

“I don’t care,” I note, the words are a blatant lie.

He sees it for what it is, judging by the smirk that grows into a full-fledged smile. He shakes his head once, his lips touching mine, but he doesn’t deepen the kiss. Instead, his tongue slides across the seam of my lips.

“You do, fagr,” he mutters against my mouth.

“She wants you,” I warn.

He hums, moving his mouth down to my neck. He tastes my throat, his teeth skimming my flesh as his hand reaches for the top of the furs and tugs them down. We just had sex, what feels like minutes ago.

“Perhaps. She has had me, Liv. It is no surprise that she may have liked what she had and wants more, why do you care?”

I growl, placing my hands between us and planting my palms on his chest. I try to push him off of me as the immediate anger inside of me builds. He only grins down at me, which is naturally fucking beautiful.

“Do you not wish another woman to desire me, sváss?” he purrs.

Pressing my lips together, I narrow my eyes up at him as he smiles with delight down at me. “No, I don’t,” I snap. “Do you want other men to desire me?”

His grin dies and a growl erupts from deep within his chest. “They will desire you not just because you are an unmatched beauty, but also because you are a dróttning. To have you is to have power over me. So, no I do not want men to desire you, but I am not foolish enough to think that they will not.”

“Women are the same, Aaric,” I whisper. “They will want you because you’re the sexiest man on this earth. They will also want you because you are a king, and you wield power like no other man I have ever come across in my life.”

“For you, my dróttning, I will never take Isolda to bed again, yeah?”

“Or anyone else?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he slants his head to the side and takes my mouth with his own. Then, he takes my body and I drift off to sleep, the question still on my tongue and the realization that he did not answer that question. That is answer enough and inside, my stomach clenches as something withers away inside

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