7
There were rhythms to my mother’s fingernail staccatos. Some announced a storm brewing inside her, or on the horizon. Others announced the stress of restraint; as she withheld her wrath because it wouldn’t help the current situation — but she was losing the battle of patience. The one my fingers tapped out on the window sill was one I recalled her performing the day she died. Standing by the window, looking out at the south, her lips smiling, her eyes cursing, her fingers tapping a dirge.
It was Adian and his tiger instincts who noticed the commotion outside first. He pulled back the drapes from the window, which overlooked the front courtyard and main gate. Then my porter, Mark, opened the door, panic on his face.
“My lady! The gate!” he cried.
Adian opened the window so I could hear, and my disbelief called the others to the view. When Víðarr finished his reading of the scroll, he started again from the beginning. I turned away from the message and walked back to my table, thinking. When I reached my place I had the beginnings of a list of tasks.
“Close the window,” I said, then turned to Mark, “Thank you. You may go.”
Turning back to the four shifters in my study, “What are your plans?”
Bryce looked at the floor, his hands in his pockets. Iris met my eyes and was furious. Adian as well. Karal was the one to speak.
“That,” Karal said, “was the most backward declaration of war I’ve ever heard. I don’t plan on going anywhere. Not like that. Never like that.”
Bryce perked up, “War?”
Iris turned on him. “What? You don’t read anything anymore and forgot everything you were taught? The first agreement between the Kind and Kin? Ring a bell?”
Bryce’s brow furrowed, and then flattened in surprise, “He’s breaking the treaty!”
The door opened again, “My lady! He’s been taken!”
“Who?”
“That Víðarr fellow. Snatched by a shifted wolf and thrown at the woods. Even one his size might have snapped his neck!”
“Fuck,” I hissed. No matter the message’s legality, killing the messenger was never a good idea. “Adian? Are you with me?”
“Of course,” he said, looking a little insulted.
“Go find out if that messenger is still alive. If he is, then attempt to keep him that way,” I ordered.
“By your leave,” he said, and left the room at speed.
“Dead messenger, that’s all we need,” Iris agreed, with a low voice.
“Bryce? I think I know your answer, but I need to hear it,” I said.
Bryce nodded. “I was tempted to leave at the assigned time, but now understanding the full impact, I’m not going anywhere. As Karal said, not like this.” A smile, so small I could have missed it, danced across his lips. “Not even if I’m mad at you,” he added.
“Thank you, but,” I said, stepping closer. I brushed my fingers through his hair and gazed deep into his eyes. I loved Bryce, more than I’m sure even he knew. “I need you to visit your mother.”
“What?” His eyes darkened and his head, by instinct, was shaking ‘no’. “I can’t leave with things like this,” he said and rose. He was taller than me, very much so and I had to lift my eyes in order to meet his. In them, I saw the lie Bryce believed – that I was trading him in, pushing him aside because Fen showed up. I saw the anger that he forced down and I didn’t want it there. I didn’t want him to be angry at me or for me.
With my hands now draped around Bryce’s neck, I pressed my lips against his, reminding him that two hearts that beat together as strongly as ours do, do not simply drift apart because of a stupid disagreement. His tongue met mine with unbridled passion and we stayed like that for a moment too long, but at the same time, not long enough. When I pulled away, we were both left breathless, struggling for air that found difficulty meeting our lungs.
“I need to know what’s going on at the tribes, from someone I trust,” I said to him, my hand on his chest. “I trust you. Visiting your mother is a good cover for leaving. Sure, some talk will happen regarding the timing of your leave, but we’ll do our best to guide the rumors. I need you to leave, and I need you not to judge anyone else who does. Note them, so we can call out to them when this is over, and let them know they are welcome to return, but say nothing and judge none for their actions.”
Mark spoke up from behind, his nervous voice, reminding me that Bryce and I weren’t alone in the room. “My queen, what about the children?”
“They’re not of age yet. No one can hold them accountable, even by Kind law.
“I’ll pass the word on,” he said, and left the room, closing the door after himself.
“What a higgy-piggy mess this is,” Iris hissed. “He didn’t read a signature at the end of the message. Did you notice that?”
No, I hadn’t. What did that mean? Did Víðarr make up the message on his own? Was he that bold?
Bryce couldn’t contain himself. “What does that mean? That’s it’s not from the council? A farce? Something to scare us enough to hand over Fenrir?”
My bull wasn’t known for being subtle in thought, word or deed. “Calm down Bryce. You have your mission. It will take, what? Two days to get there? Stay six days, and I’ll see you back here just after the moon. Unless they say you can’t return. If that’s the case, stay until this settles. Your tardiness will tell me all I need to know.”
Bryce nodded, but then looked to Karal.
“She means,” Karal said, with a patient tone, “she’ll know we’re at war and to expect trouble.”
“I know what she means,” Bryce hissed, then took my face in his hands. “If something happens to you,” he said, but didn’t continue. All other words could be seen in his eyes.
“Nothing will happen to me,” I promised.
Bryce jerked his head in Karal’s direction and pressed his lips together. “Take care of her.”
“You know I will, Karal promised.”
Iris sighed beside me and then bent over the map on the table. After Bryce closed the door behind him, she asked, “Think these things are connected?”
“No.”
She stiffened, then straightened back up. “What makes you so sure? That message wasn’t from the council. I’m sure of that. Someone is obviously playing games. Why not?”
“Because we couldn’t win. If we find that this is the case, that a faction of shifters and zombies have united against us, then we evacuate,” I said, and walked to the window.
“Evacuate?” Karal asked. “Where to?”
“To Kate’s realm. To the north.” I answered without turning, my heart rending to say these things, but what could I do? I had to be pragmatic, not romantic. I had to make the choices others could not. My fingernails drummed on the window sill. When I noticed them, I stopped. “But the chances of that are slim at best. How could zombies unite with anyone? Let’s stick to what we know, and what we can confirm. Right now, we know that there are zombies with different abilities, different capabilities coming to shore using watercrafts. And we know that a messenger came with an illegal proclamation. Fenrir said he would find answers about the zombies. I trust him, for now. I also want to trust him.”
I turned to face them. “So, we stop looking at maps, and take steps on the other issue.”
Iris nodded. “We should contact Queen Kate, and Queen Madb to the east, on the borders.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “See to it for me. I’m going to go to see Bryce before he leaves. Karal, meet me at the gate in an hour?”
“Certainly,” he said.
*
I didn’t need a prophet to know that I’d miss Bryce once he left. Apparently, what I did need was a stark reminder of just how much. So, Bryce being Bryce, he made sure to double the damage.
On the door of my bedchamber was a note, crisp white paper folded in two. Unfolded, there were two words to be read: Knees. Now. I knew this game. I knew this game very well.
A smile slipped upon my lips at the simple thought of where this was leading. Lower, my thighs were seconds away from feeling the wetness of my arousal.
I dropped to my knees, eyes closed, heart pounding. Ready. So very ready.
“You’re not a queen in here, Myriana.” Bryce’s voice roared from behind me. “In here, you don’t get to bark orders. You don’t get to demand this and demand that.” The vibrations of his voice drew closer. And closer. Until his lips were flush against my ear.
I swallowed. My dry mouth and parched throat knew not the rivers of moisture held between my thighs.
“I’d take my time with you,” he taunted, “but time isn’t something we have a lot of right now.” He certainly was correct about that much.
Before I could think to answer, I felt the roughness of his hands against my chin.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” I whispered the words to him, hoping that he’d feel, rather than hear them. His response didn’t come in words, but in actions.
The hand that seconds ago tipped my chin up, was now at my core. No time wasted stripping me of my undergarments, Bryce rubbed at my center. The lace of my underwear in combination with the roughness of his fingers, made me cry out in equal parts of pleasure and discomfort. I writhed against his touch. My fingers reached for him and I grabbed and tugged at flesh and cloth, wanting him closer. Needing him. Needing him more than I needed him yesterday. More than the day before. Starving for a man who I’ve certainly had my fair fix of.
Lips met. Teeth clashed. Tongues collided. And heat rose from my core as Bryce continued to rub. Not with the tenderness of a man who respects his queen, but instead, with vengeance, with pain…with forgiveness.
Not a queen. Not a minotaur. No. Behind these walls we were none of those things. Behind these walls we were nothing more than two mortals with an unquenchable thirst for each other.
Bryce withdrew his fingers, crammed them into my mouth so that my lips could feel just how wet I was for him. So that I could taste the sweetness of my own juices. Taste just what he made me feel.
With his other hand, he stripped himself from the waist down, his eyes never leaving my face.
He palmed his cock, his hand wrapped around his thick erection… and stroked. Teasingly. Tauntingly. There was a part of me that could watch Bryce’s firm hands work his cock like this forever. That very same part would, no doubt, be able to orgasm without a finger touching me. But that part didn’t get to win today.
“You’ll have enough time to take care of yourself while you’re on the road,” I teased.
“Didn’t think you needed an invitation to suck me off,” he gave back.
As much as my mouth wanted nothing more than to stretch to the width of him, to feel his skin on my tongue, to feel him at the back of my throat, we didn’t have time for all that foreplay. I gripped his hand and pulled him into me, not putting up a fight when the tables turned and he threw both of my hands in the air, holding my wrists in place like a man scorned.
He hoisted my leg just over his hip and gave no pause or warning before entering me. The pain that ripped through my center as my pussy parted to accommodate his girth was quickly replaced by pleasure. My back crashed against the coarse wall behind me and Bryce worked me with the same rhythm he’d worked his cock earlier, but with a force that was multiplied beyond measures.
This wasn’t pretty sex. Not the kind they show in porn, where make-up stays in place and beads of sweat rise in perfect formation. No. Bryce and I were drenched from head to toe, our bodies creating awkward noises as he slammed into me over and over again. Written on our faces was the agony we’d feel at the short moment of separation that would come between us in mere minutes. I held on to him, my nails sinking into his flesh. Needing more. Taking more.
His hand slipped and rubbed down the length of my body all the way to my ass. With the same roughness he’d been administering this entire time, he grabbed at my ass cheeks before driving his thumb deep, deep, deep, in the middle. The sensation of being penetrated back and front left me beside myself. My knees weakened, giving way for the ecstasy that stormed my entire body.
“Bryce,” I moaned. The voice that left me was raw and almost painful. Nothing like the controlled sounds expected from a queen.
He pumped again. Again. Again. By some miracle his cock grew even more, hardened even more as he filled me with the warmth of his seed, grunting his pleasure through clenched teeth.