Broods Of Fenrir - By Coral Moore Page 0,61

hand to his mouth, and kissed the inside of her wrist. “All will be well.” The lie tasted foul, doubly so because he"d spoken in Norse without realizing it.

She grimaced and twisted in his grip to take hold of his hand. A pulse of her power traveled up his arm, settled into his chest, then spread through his body. The ache that had begun at the back of his head eased at once. Her eyes took on the luster of polished steel. “Don"t lie to me.” The anger was preferable to fear, and his smile came easier. He nipped the bottom knuckle of her thumb with a gentle scrape of his teeth. “I am ever at your command.” One corner of her mouth lifted and she tilted her head.

“Eventually we"re going to get into an argument your charm won"t get you out of.”

“Not quite yet, though?” He brushed his lips over the soft skin between her thumb and index finger. “Will you help me prepare?”

“Of course.” She turned to the basin she had set on the table beside him and soaked a cloth in the steaming water.

Brand stared, watching her strong fingers wring the cloth several times. She washed his back with long, slow strokes.

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Needing to feel her closer, he reached for her arms and wrapped them around his chest. Her body warmed the chil that climbed his spine to take root at the back of his head. Part of him wanted to take her and run away, to go where none of their kind could ever find them. How many would he abandon then, to a life every bit as torturous as hers had been? How many more females like Alice would be sold into slavery because he was a selfish coward?

He released her arms and stood. He stepped out of his soiled jeans and let her wash the rest of him. Afterward, she offered him the pants her mother had left for him, deer hide dyed coal black. He pulled them up his legs and tied the laces.

“She has a flare for the dramatic, your mother.” She walked around him slowly, her hand coming to rest at the small of his back. “They suit you.” His chuckle sounded strained in the still air of the cabin.

“Well, when we"re done here, I"ll make sure to take them with us so you can have more time to stare at my ass.” Her fingers trailed down along his spine and then over his right butt cheek. A smile tugged at her lips. “See that you do.”

She turned back to the table and lifted a silver armband.

Polished blue stones caught the light as she examined it. “I suppose she wants you to look regal so they will think twice about accusing you.” She fit the band around the narrow part of his biceps.

“Or she enjoys dressing me up like a doll for her own amusement.”

“Or that.” She laughed as she fit the other armband into place. “I wonder why she lives in this nasty place if she"s got stuff like this hanging around.”

Brand shrugged. He still found it odd that he knew her mother so much better than she did, but since Dagny had been raised by her sire, he"d spent much more time with Ingrid.

“Modern niceties make her nervous. She has enough money to live any way she wants.”

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“And she prefers a drafty hut that smells like piss and dead rabbits?” She shook her head, while lifting a matching torc carved with angular runic symbols.

Leaning forward to let her fasten it behind his neck, he rested his hands on her hips. How many times had he sworn not to bend for a collar to be placed around his neck? For the light touch of her fingers at his nape, he would have dropped to his knees. He hoped she had no idea of the power she held.

She twisted in his grip and draped a thick, black bearskin cloak around him, fastening it at his right shoulder with a silver clasp in the shape of a sword. She examined him with a slow sweep of her eyes and her lips curled into a sultry smile. “If there is a more handsome male than you, I"ve never seen him.”

He drew her toward him, pulling her tight to his torso.

Her arms stretched around his neck as her body relaxed against him. His mouth covered hers, parting her lips. He released her from the kiss, but kept his mouth on hers, enjoying the delicious warmth