into the icy water and counted to twenty. After it had soaked, she extracted it and rested the cold sword across her lap. With the edge of her shirt, Dagny lovingly dried the weapon and returned it to its scabbard. She repeated the process with the second. Her teeth chattered as she ran back to where Brand waited.
He took the blades from her with a formal bow, thanking her in Norse. She frowned. If anything, he felt wearier than he had before. Echoes of his pain radiated through her skull. She stood in front of him, holding his face in her hands.
“Brand, you can"t fight like this.”
He sheathed both of the weapons. “I"ll be fine, sweet.” He took her hand. “Your mother, maddening though she is, is clever. This is probably one of the best outcomes.”
“I don"t call fighting when you haven"t slept in almost a week and can hardly stand a good outcome.”
“On his best day, Ansvarr has small enough chance to beat me, but today he has none.” He curled an arm around her back and pulled her against his side. “I have too much to fight for.” She looked into his face. Resolve drew the muscles of his jaw tight. Despite the fact that she could feel the weariness and pain weighing him down, she believed him. She pushed the fear away. “Kiss me.”
The subtle change in his face wasn"t so much a smile as an acknowledgement. “As my lady commands.” He lowered his head to take her mouth, gripping the nape of her neck in one strong hand. She grabbed his arm and pulled herself up on her toes to meet him.
His kiss was an act of possession, bold and unrepentant.
The growl rumbling up his throat and the scratch of his teeth sent a shudder of delight along her spine. Her wolf surged forward, answering his call.
When he released her, the wolf whimpered. The profound loss of sensation made her throat ache. She stared up into his luminous blue eyes, wondering how she would manage 182
to survive if she never saw the dangerous heat there again.
“Take care of her, little wolf.” On the edge of control, his voice was nearly a snarl. He bent to run his teeth along the edge of her jaw, making a satisfied grunt when her head tipped back. Her knees gave way, and he lowered her to the ground, the gentle movement at odds with the fierce power radiating from him.
* * *
Brand found it difficult to leave her as she stared up at him with those huge silver eyes. She looked so frail with her lips parted and cheeks flushed, though he knew she was not.
He drew his knuckles down the side of her neck in a final caress, pausing where his mark stood out against her pale skin.
The beat of her pulse sped up under his hand. He showed her the smile he knew she loved, and then cleared his face of all expression before moving away from her.
He was keenly aware of the eyes on the two of them.
Most of the public display had been for their benefit, though kissing Dagny was a reward in itself. Her wolf had submitted with eye-catching grace, and not a male around them had missed the show.
Ansvarr almost quivered with irritation. The well-respected males he had thought allies would jeer at him in private. No matter what happened here, his reputation was ruined. That Ansvarr"s reign would be short-lived if he managed to kill Brand was cold comfort.
Brand harbored more doubts about the coming challenge than he had let Dagny see. He hid the apprehension he felt—along with the guilt for keeping it from her—so that she wouldn"t worry. The concentration required to maintain the deception was an additional drain that he couldn"t really afford, but when she was afraid, he had trouble thinking clearly.
Pulling both blades from their scabbards, he hefted the weight of them. They were fine weapons. He stretched one 183
group of muscles at a time, feeling his back and legs warm. The ache crawled its way into his head again.
Looking at neither participant, Ingrid stood in the center of the circle. When the twenty minutes elapsed, she raised her arms to gesture them forward. “It is time.” Sizing up Ansvarr as he strode forward, Brand walked to where Ingrid stood. His brother swung the huge sword that had belonged to their sire, a weapon Brand would recognize until his dying day. Brand shifted his gaze to Ingrid. She"d