Oh God, he wouldn’t? Stunned into silence, she watched him unbutton one, then another of the buttons before she realized she was just standing there in the middle of the floor, watching him. Watching the play of the firelight over his golden skin, the red flecks it uncovered in his dark-as-midnight hair.

Then he flicked the last of the buttons free and moved toward her. Spurred into action, she squeaked and started for the bed. Nerveless fingers fought with the fasteners at her bodice to no avail. She couldn’t make her hands work and within seconds she felt the heat of his body against her back and froze.

Hard hands on her upper arms spun her around and she found herself crushed against his chest as he glared down at her, eyes blazing.

“Out of time, my lady,” he taunted, then crushed her lips beneath his.

She tried to hold out, honestly she did. Standing impassively, she told herself that he could have her body, but that would be all. He’d never have a hold on her heart or her soul. Her body would heal from whatever damage he inflicted, eventually, but her heart—her soul—if she let him in, he would destroy her.

His lips worked hers, over and back. The slick heat of his tongue brushed against hers, reminding her of their previous kisses, what it felt like to be held in his strong embrace and the pleasure his touch could bring. She felt herself weakening. He was her husband; in the eyes of their world, she belonged to him. Heat filled her veins. He could do what he liked with her, to her…and she’d let him.

As though sensing her weakness, he pressed his advantage, hauling her up against his hard-muscled body. His lips broke from hers to whisper against them. “You’re mine, Analise. I told you I would have you and I will. You agreed to come to me willingly. If I gain nothing else from this marriage because of your plots, I will have your surrender.”

He kissed her again, cutting off any reply she might have made. Hard lips dominated hers as his hands swept over her body. One flattened over the back of her hips, holding her in place as the other reached between them and hooked into the neckline of her gown. His kiss made her so dizzy that she didn’t realize what was coming next.

Without lifting his mouth from hers, he tore open the ribbons holding her dress together down the front and, when she gasped, thrust his tongue past her lips. Stroked her tongue and thrust again. Mimicked the act to follow as he pushed her gown from her shoulders. It caught on her hips for a moment, but then fell to the floor.

Air washed over her exposed skin and she couldn’t stop the shiver that rolled through her body. The thin shift she wore beneath her gown was no protection against the cooler air of the room or against the fire of his gaze as he broke the kiss and looked down at her. Heat blazed, burning out the cold look that had been there before.

Without a word, he urged her backward onto the bed, following her down and crawling over her in a move that was more feline than the were-polar she knew him to be. Her breath caught in her throat at the sheer sensuality of the move. Before she could move, though, he was over her, hands either side of her head as he braced himself.

“S—”

He shook his head, cutting off her words, and her jaw snapped shut.

“Mine.”

His words were a growl as he bent his head to kiss her again. His hair brushed her cheeks, surprisingly soft, but his lips were anything but. At his demand, she opened for him and moaned as he deepened the kiss. The need to touch him overwhelmed her, and she reached out hesitantly, wary for his reaction. Would he welcome her touch?

Her fingertips brushed his skin, and he groaned against her lips. Emboldened by his reaction, she flattened both her palms against his chest, spreading her fingers to touch him.

He nipped her lower lip, catching it lightly between his teeth for a moment. Pleasure coursed through her body, a weakness that swept from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her hands smoothed down his chest, then farther, her fingers running over the ripples of his tensed abdomen.

He released her lip with a groan.

“Touch me.” It wasn’t an order; it was a plea. One from the depths of his soul. “Snow’s sake, Analise, touch me.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded and slid her hands lower. Heat hit her cheeks like she’d been standing in front of a fire for hours, but it didn’t matter. He was Scar, the most dangerous bear in the Arctic Circle…and she had him at her mercy.

Her fingertips reached the loose edges of his pants, the backs of her fingers brushing something hot and silky. She jumped, but he was already there. Braced on one arm, he caught one of her hands to wrap it around the thick shaft of his cock.

Her eyes widened. He was huge, far bigger than she’d thought. Sudden fear hit her. Would it even fit? He was so much bigger than she was. His hand tightened on hers, moving it up and down his cock, and he groaned, his expression tight.

“Fuck, that feels good. So good.”

His hand dropped away, but she kept hers where it was. Touching him, stroking him. She grew bolder and swept her thumb over the wide head. It came away slick and wet.

“Witch,” he breathed, spearing her with a hot look. “You’ve ensnared me. How did you do that?”

She shook her head, letting go of him. “I haven’t done anything.”

“You did. And now it’s my turn.” His big hand smoothed over her thigh, catching the shift and smoothing it against her skin. “This is in the way.”

Holding her gaze, he reached up and hooked his fingers in the neckline. With a sharp movement, he tore it clean down the middle, baring her to his gaze. Instinctively, she tried to cover up, but his low growl stopped her.

“Beautiful.”

It was just the one word, but one that seemed ripped unwillingly from the depths of his soul. Before she’d fully realized what he’d said, he bent his head and wrapped his tongue around her nipple. The hot, wet rasp made her gasp and reach for him, her nails digging into his shoulder. He didn’t stop there. He paid homage to her breasts, licking and nibbling around her sensitive nipples before, finally, taking one into his mouth to suck.

She whimpered, her back arching as any self-consciousness disappeared under the need and heat hitting her broadside. Nothing mattered any more. All that mattered was he carried on what he was doing. Big hands curled around her ribcage, holding her in place, her breasts offered up to his mouth. He moved from one to the other until she moaned and writhed beneath him.

Letting go, he slid down the bed. She couldn’t help pouting at the loss of his talented lips and tongue on her breasts, but stilled as he parted her legs to slide between them. His shoulders were so broad he could barely fit, nudging her thighs wide. Spreading her wide for his heated gaze.

“My lord?” She bit her lip, shifting uncomfortably. There was something wrong with her…he didn’t find her attractive enough.

“Mine,” he growled and licked her.

“Ooooh!” Her hips came off the bed at the sensation. Warm, rough, wet…the feel of his tongue against her lower lips was like nothing she’d ever felt before. He rumbled, the sound a vibration against her, and she whimpered. The touch of his fingers was nothing compared to his clever lips and tongue.

He parted her folds and found the tiny bundle of pleasure hidden there to play with. He licked over and back in long, slow strokes, before flicking rapidly. Pleasure built up in her core and she clutched at the sheets, trying to ground herself. It was no good. With every lick, every deep growl, he pushed her higher and higher.

“My lord…” She couldn’t stay still no matter how much she tried. Her hips rocked against his mouth, searching for, needing more sensation. One more stroke of his tongue, or the warmth of his mouth as he suckled her.

He pulled away, and she keened softly, feeling the loss of his heat.

“Shhh…I’ve got you,” he murmured as he moved over her. One hair-roughened knee slid between hers, then the other, and he lowered himself. Something hard nudged against her, brushing the entrance to her body, and she stilled.

Her hands curled over his upper arms, holding onto him as he reached between them. Dipping his hips, he fit the head of his cock against her and pressed insistently. Her nostrils flared as her body was forced to stretch around him. Panic welled. He was too big. There was no way he was going to fit.

“Just relax. It’ll be good, I promise.”

She nodded, trusting him, and stopped fighting. Her body gave, and he slid into her half an inch. Her eyes widened, the feeling of fullness stealing her ability to breathe. Expression tight, he pulled back, only to surge into her again, deeper this time. Little by little, he worked his way in until he was seated in her to the hilt. He stopped, braced over her, cock throbbing in her depths.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

She moaned softly in answer because she couldn’t do anything else. Her body throbbed where he was buried in her, the feeling of fullness so complete she was worried that if he moved, he’d split her in two.

Then he did, and her gasp of panic turned into one of wonder as pleasure burst through her. The burning almost pain of his possession turned into utter bliss as he rocked his hips back and drove into her again. And again. She looked up to find him watching her, his expression hard and feral. It should have scared her, but the look in his eyes wasn’t one of rage. It was desire and need. For her.

His thrusts sped up, becoming faster and harder. Each slide of his cock in her pussy was a brand of ownership, but of whom she wasn’t sure. Her breathing came in soft pants, then moans as she wrapped her arms around him. She held him to her and surrendered the softness of her body for his pleasure.

“God, Analise.” He growled her name, one big hand hooking behind her knee to bring it up higher over his hip. In the same movement, he ground his pelvis against her. The sensation made her gasp, the world around her ceasing to exist as he shoved her up to the edge of the precipice.

“Scar, I…”

She couldn’t get the words out, but he nodded anyway. “Let go…give me your pleasure,” he ordered on a low growl. His next thrust was hard and fast, with a roll of his hips at the end. Reaching between them, he found the tiny bundle of nerves between her legs. At his clever touch, she stiffened, the sensation too much as he pushed her over into pleasure.

She fell, shattering apart as she screamed his name. The maelstrom enveloped her, sweeping her up into its heated embrace. Ecstasy spiraled out from her core, fed by each thrust as he dropped her leg and drove into her harder and faster, chasing his release even as he powered hers.

Her moans and the bite of her nails in his shoulders seemed to spur him on. All she could do was cling to him, trusting him to take them both where they needed to be. Finally, it was too much. He shoved into her and stiffened, throwing his head back and roaring as he came, cock pulsing deep within her depths.

She closed her eyes, losing herself in the moment.

He was her lord, her husband…and she could so easily fall in love with him if she wasn’t careful.

And if that happened, she was done for.

* * *

She was beautiful, perfection itself. Pity her heart was rotten beneath the beauty. The early morning sun filtered through the thick glass and fell across the bed, highlighting Analise’s face.

Scar lay on his side and watched her. He’d taken her time after time, and the sex had been the best he’d ever had, but still he wanted her. His cock was as hard as a staff still, even though he’d spent his seed within her more times than he could count. The scent of her skin and the sound of her screams of pleasure were burned into his memory for all time.

But he wanted more. Would always want more. She was his own addiction; one he knew he would never be cured of.

If he blocked everything out, he could almost imagine she wasn’t the scheming bitch he knew her to be. Knowing she was sound asleep, he reached out and stroked a lock of her blonde hair from her face. Whatever dye she’d used at the ball had faded, the pale locks like silk against his pillows. It suited her creamy skin better. For a moment, he allowed himself to sink into a long-held fantasy. Coming home to find her all softness and smiles, warmth and honesty in her dark eyes as she greeted him.

His perfect wife. The woman he’d been waiting for all his life.

The fantasy expanded to show them in his rooms, on thick furs in front of a roaring fire. His larger body was curled protectively around hers, his hand stroking over her belly, swollen with his cub. Longing hit him, stealing his breath and snapping him out of his fantasy. Without thinking, he smoothed his hand over the flat smoothness of her stomach. He’d taken her many times last night, so she could already be pregnant. Could already be carrying his cub. She was a bearmate, but he hadn’t bonded her yet…not given her the bite that would ensure any child she carried was an alpha.

He’d taken her virginity, but he hadn’t bonded her. It was a dick move and he knew it. In their society, a woman mated but not bonded was one thing—a whore. If he cast her aside now, no man would marry her. She would be seen as being good for only one thing. His bear snarled, rage pouring through him at the thought of any man but him touching her.

His fist clenched as he fought down the anger. No. She was his. No other man would ever touch her, ever see her spread out on a bed, her golden hair around her and desire in her eyes. She would be his, for always, even though she was a lying bitch.

But he would never give her his heart. Never allow her that sort of power over him.

She murmured in her sleep and turned, as though seeking him, curling up against the warmth of his body like an animal seeking shelter. His bear rumbled within, the need to protect her dragged unwillingly from his soul. Somehow, although no one else could, despite the fact she’d lied to him, she drew out the need to look after her.

Sighing, he lifted his hand and raked his loose hair back from his face. He needed to sort out what she’d done, though, and quickly, before he lost face. He couldn’t afford it to be known that he had been outwitted by a female, much less Magnus Asmundr’s daughter. That was worse than being bested by the man himself. A fact that Magnus would not hesitate to capitalize on if he survived.

Sliding from the bed, he tucked the blankets around Analise to keep her warm and strode across the room. After dragging his leathers on and buckling his belt, he was pulling his boots on when a sound from the bed made him look up.

“My lord?”

Analise sat up in the bed, furs held across her chest, and her hair a riotous tumble of curls around her creamy shoulders. The memory of how her skin tasted, the sexy little sound she made when he touched her, hit him, and he almost groaned with the need to stride back across the room and get back into the bed with her.

As soon as he thought it, he was suiting thoughts to actions. Yanking his boots from his feet, he stalked across the room. Her breathing caught at his approach, eyes wide as she scuttled back in the bed, but he wasn’t having any of that. Reaching out, he grabbed her trailing ankle and yanked her toward him.

“My lord!” she gasped, tumbled to her back, her hair a tangled mess around her on the sheets. “Please…what are you doing?”

With hard hands, he pulled the furs from her, leaving her naked to his gaze. Her slender body tensed, then relaxed as he ran his hand down her curves. She was so responsive, melting as soon as he touched her, that he could almost believe her soft gasps and moans meant she felt something for him more than as a means to an end.

“After last night, I would have thought that would be obvious,” he said, pulling her under him. He dealt with the fastenings on his pants and within a heartbeat he had his cock in his hand. It throbbed savagely as he dipped his hips and rubbed the broad head against her pussy. Stroked it against her clit.

“Again?” The sudden darkness of her eyes almost tipped him over the edge there and then. Within a couple of strokes, her hips rocked against him, seeking more sensation. Liquid heat bathed the head of his cock, her body signaling its readiness for his possession.

“You’re mine, remember?” he growled, not wanting conversation or softness. He wanted to fuck her, hard and fast, and rid himself of this hold she had over him. Altering his position, he fit himself at the entrance to her pussy and pushed.

She gasped, back arching up as he sheathed himself in one hard movement. For a second, he froze, worried he’d hurt her, but the soft groan that escaped her throat said otherwise. Relief rolled through him, quickly replaced by desire as his dick reminded him that he was balls-deep in her silken softness.

Pulling back, he thrust again. And moaned. The sensation was divine. Heavenly. He didn’t have words to describe the feeling of her body tightly gloved around his, nor did he care to. Hooking hard fingers behind her knees, he drew her legs up and hooked them over his arms, pressed forward so she was completely open to him.

“My lord…Scar!” she cried his name as the change in position took him deeper. Her moans spilled from her throat into the silence of the room as he claimed her ruthlessly. Pounded into her to forget the fledging feelings trying to break through the wall around his heart.

It didn’t take long. A hard knot of pleasure built in the small of his back, then wrapped around to grip his balls and cock in a fiery-hot embrace. He gasped, then drove into her a last time as he came, hard and fast. His cock pulsed, filling her with his white-hot seed. Her pussy clamped down around him, tight grip milking him as her own release overtook her slender body.

He waited until the pulses stopped and pulled from her. She moaned in disappointment, her body still twitching as she turned onto her side, away from him. The fact she wouldn’t meet his eyes sliced through him, but he ignored it. Taking a step back, he buttoned himself up.

“Be ready for me when I get back,” he ordered and stalked out of the room before he could change his mind and pull her into his arms to comfort her.

* * *

They called her his whore.

Always behind her back, of course, but Analise wasn’t deaf. She heard the whispers as she walked through the keep, trying to find something to do. Everyone she met eyed her with suspicion, polite to her face, but as soon as she turned around, she felt their eyes on her. Their dislike was palpable.

It didn’t help that the only dress she had was the one she’d arrived in. Now mended, it was thin and simple in design, baring her neck and shoulders, the skin there unmarked. Proving to all and sundry that Scar hadn’t found her appealing enough to bond her to him.

Conscious of the lack, she pulled her hair down from its knot and fluffed it out over her shoulders. She was married now, so she could wear it how she liked, and the loose style went a little way toward covering her shame.

Her face carefully expressionless, she found herself in the ladies chamber above the main hall. With a balcony that looked over the hall and a huge picture window with a view over the snow-covered landscape, it was pretty and, to her relief, empty. Her steps silent over the polished floor, she headed to the window and looked out.

With the sun blazing down, the snow looked so pretty, but she knew it was a deceptive beauty. The weather could turn in an instant and become lethal…not that it mattered to her. She had nowhere to go, even if she could get out of the keep. Scar and the main force of his men were gone, but there were enough warriors left to guard both heavily fortified gates. Although, she was fairly certain they were there less to guard from outsiders than to ensure she didn’t try and leave.

She sighed and turned, looking around the room. Everything was neat and clean, the keep obviously well organized and maintained. Not used to having nothing to do, she’d tried to help the servants earlier. None of them wanted her help…not even the lowliest scullery maid. They’d all been polite, but she’d seen the suspicion and dislike behind their eyes and “my lady’s”. So she was at a loss. It was strange going from running a keep to merely sitting around like noblewomen were supposed to do.

Her gaze fell on a pile of linens. Checking the coast was clear, she drifted closer and picked one up. Scar’s shirts. They had to be. Carefully, she unfolded one to find a large slash across the back. Her gut clenched at the sight of it. Someone had gotten close enough to attack him with a blade or claws, and had penetrated deep enough to go through his armor to the shirt beneath. Fear for him hit her, and she covered her mouth with one hand, schooling her reaction. He could have been killed.

Quickly, she rifled through the pile. It was the only one with that kind of damage. The rest were all worn cuffs or hems that had frayed. Spotting a mending basket half hidden under a nearby chair, she recovered it and took her haul over to the deep window seat. Settling herself in, she distracted herself by mending, her fingers setting delicate stitches as she tried not to let her mind wander.

Hours later, she had a pile of mended shirts and her equilibrium, if not level, was at least a little less ragged. The horns announcing the return of the warriors sounded just as she set the last stitches, snipping the thread with her teeth, and she folded the last shirt to put it on top of the pile. Packing everything away where she’d found it, she made her way to the balcony, pausing on the top step as Scar swept into the hall below.

Her heart stuttered at the sight of him. He always took her breath away. Tall and handsome, with his dark hair flowing over his shoulders, he oozed virility and danger. His lean-hipped walk hinted at stamina, stamina she could attest to after last night and this morning. Just remembering his touch made her body tingle and her blood race.

And he was her husband…

Her gaze moved downward and she registered that his leather armor was covered in blood. Ice trickled down her spine. She sped down the remaining steps and across the hall to stand in front of him.

“My lord…are you okay? Were you attacked?”

Worried, she tried to check him for wounds, but he captured her hands in his.

“No, I wasn’t attacked.”

Confused, she stopped, looking up at him. His face was as hard as granite, the expression like ice.

“If you weren’t attacked…”

Her words trailed off as she looked around at the warriors as they trooped into the hall behind their lord. They didn’t have the bearing of warriors who had been defeated, but more like warriors returning home triumphant. Her gaze cut back to Scar, her voice a pale imitation of what it had been.

“But…the truce? You promised.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the note of accusation out of her voice. He had promised. He’d signed the agreement at the same time as she had. His expression didn’t falter. If anything, it became more set, his dark eyes flashing with anger.

“I did. I promised the Lady of Asmundr a truce in exchange for her hand in marriage.”

The hall around them fell silent as all ears turned their way. Normally, she’d have avoided such a scene, but right now she was so stunned, she didn’t care.

“I don’t understand?” Surely, there was some mistake. Perhaps she was dreaming. Yes, that was it, she decided. She was still asleep and this was a nightmare.

“You got what you wanted. I—we are married.” Even if you don’t find me woman enough to bear your mark, she added silently.

“Not quite.” He stepped closer, looking down at her with such a cold look that she died a little inside. “I made a deal with the Lady of Asmundr, but when you came to me, you were no longer that person. You were capta sperata…clanless, weren’t you, Analise?”

Oh. Shit.

Her jaw dropped and she simply looked at him. He was right, she had been, but she hadn’t realized what she’d thought to be her masterstroke could be turned around so easily. She flicked a glance down at the blood covering his leathers and felt sick. It had all been for nothing.

She’d married the devil himself and she was going to rot in living hell.