The Winter King
Page 126
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“I—” She was at a loss for words. Aware of Bella’s eyes upon them, Kham blushed and blurted, “Bella, fetch the king a plate.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” The maid bobbed a swift curtsy and hurried out.
“I think I frighten her,” Wynter murmured. He looked not the least bit remorseful.
“You know you do. Wasn’t that your intention?”
White teeth flashed in a dazzling smile. “Perhaps.” He reminded her of Krysti, with that mischief sparkling in his eyes, but there was nothing boyish about the low, husky voice that made her toes curl in her slippers.
Khamsin cleared her throat and reached for her teacup, taking a quick sip of the bitter brew. “If I’d known you wished to join me this morning, I would have had Bella prepare more food. I don’t normally eat much breakfast.”
He glanced at her plate. “We can share this until she brings more. I’m in no hurry.”
“You’re not?” Gah, she felt like a ninny, repeating everything he said. But this was the first time he’d been in her bedroom in broad daylight, and for some reason it felt so unsettling. She’d grown used to having him in shadows and firelight. In the bright light of day, he seemed bigger, broader, more real. And so desirable, she could scarcely put two coherent thoughts together.
“No hurry at all. Everyone’s been telling me for months to slow down and start enjoying life again.” With deft hands, he smeared the creamed cheese across one slice of the toasted wheat-and-nut bread. “I thought we might ride out together again after breakfast. There’s still much work to be done in Skala-Holt, and the villagers you saved will want to thank you.”
“They don’t need to thank me.”
“Yes, they do. And they will want to. So just say, ‘Yes, husband. I would love to ride with you to Skala-Holt today.’ ” He layered smoked salmon across the cheese-covered toast, then cut the prepared bread into inch-wide strips.
She honestly couldn’t manage a reasonable objection. “Yes, husband. I would love to ride with you to Skala-Holt today.”
“Good. That’s settled.” He lifted the first of the strips to her lips and waited for her to take a bite.
She was intimately aware of his intent, focused gaze as her teeth sank into the moist salmon, cheese, and bread. The combination of flavors burst in her mouth. She chewed slowly and found she couldn’t tear her gaze away as he carried the remaining slice to his own lips. She watched his white teeth bite through the food, and all she could think of was those teeth nibbling at her flesh, scraping across her br**sts, his lips tracking lines of fire across her body.
He reached for her teacup, and she almost laughed at the incongruous sight of his enormous hand closing around the delicate cup. In Wynter’s grip, the cup looked like one of those miniature doll’s toys her sisters had played with when they were young. He held the cup to her lips, and she drank without hesitation. The tea could have been as bitter as wormwood, and she still would have drunk it because he had offered it to her.
He turned the cup and, holding her gaze, slowly put his mouth to the spot her lips had touched and drank.
Sweet, smoldering Freika! Kham practically melted.
“If you don’t stop trying to seduce me over breakfast, we will never leave this room today,” she warned him with a rueful laugh.
Even before she finished her laughing admonition, Wynter’s nostrils flared, and his teasing, seductive playfulness gave way to a stiff, distant coldness. His eyes turned snowy, and the tea in the cup turned so abruptly into ice that the delicate porcelain shattered. The frozen brown block of ice that had a split second ago been steaming tea thumped on the tabletop. His fingers fisted around the broken cup handle, and drops of violet-tinged blood stained the tablecloth.
“Sweet Halla!” She jumped up, snatched a napkin from the table, and reached for his hand to staunch the wound. Before she could touch him, his free hand closed around her wrist, and she gasped. It was as if she’d been shackled with an unyielding ring of glacier ice.
“Wynter!” She yanked against him, trying to pull her arm free, but he didn’t budge.
He rose to his feet with slow deliberation, straightening inch by massive, aggressive, all male inch, until he towered over her, forcing her to crane her head back to look up at him. His eyes were pure white now, his face hard as graven stone. Gone was the seductive lover, the teasing mischief in his eyes. He was pure, cold, Winter King, full of wrath and ice.
When he spoke, his voice filled her with dread. “You bound your life to mine.” Each word tore from his lips with a sound like the very earth ripping apart from unimaginable pressure. The low, dangerous rumble shuddered through her, rattling her bones, making the hairs on her arm stand up. “You promised me the fruits of your womb.”
She gaped at him without comprehension. “You said that was what you wanted!” Her throat was dry. The air had gone so cold, each breath scraped through her lungs like sharp knives. What on earth had set him off?
“You smile at me and invite me to your bed. You make me swear to take no other in your place. You act as though you welcome my touch . . . as though you want my child.”
“I did. I do! Wynter, for Halla’s sake, tell me what’s wrong!”
“And all the while . . . all the while as you were smiling so sweetly, welcoming me into your bed and your body, convincing me you were different . . . better than your kin, more honorable and trustworthy . . . all the while you were every inch the lying, deceitful, treacherous witch Valik warned me about. A true Coruscate! Corrupt to the bone, just like every other member of your cursed family!”
“Of course, Your Grace.” The maid bobbed a swift curtsy and hurried out.
“I think I frighten her,” Wynter murmured. He looked not the least bit remorseful.
“You know you do. Wasn’t that your intention?”
White teeth flashed in a dazzling smile. “Perhaps.” He reminded her of Krysti, with that mischief sparkling in his eyes, but there was nothing boyish about the low, husky voice that made her toes curl in her slippers.
Khamsin cleared her throat and reached for her teacup, taking a quick sip of the bitter brew. “If I’d known you wished to join me this morning, I would have had Bella prepare more food. I don’t normally eat much breakfast.”
He glanced at her plate. “We can share this until she brings more. I’m in no hurry.”
“You’re not?” Gah, she felt like a ninny, repeating everything he said. But this was the first time he’d been in her bedroom in broad daylight, and for some reason it felt so unsettling. She’d grown used to having him in shadows and firelight. In the bright light of day, he seemed bigger, broader, more real. And so desirable, she could scarcely put two coherent thoughts together.
“No hurry at all. Everyone’s been telling me for months to slow down and start enjoying life again.” With deft hands, he smeared the creamed cheese across one slice of the toasted wheat-and-nut bread. “I thought we might ride out together again after breakfast. There’s still much work to be done in Skala-Holt, and the villagers you saved will want to thank you.”
“They don’t need to thank me.”
“Yes, they do. And they will want to. So just say, ‘Yes, husband. I would love to ride with you to Skala-Holt today.’ ” He layered smoked salmon across the cheese-covered toast, then cut the prepared bread into inch-wide strips.
She honestly couldn’t manage a reasonable objection. “Yes, husband. I would love to ride with you to Skala-Holt today.”
“Good. That’s settled.” He lifted the first of the strips to her lips and waited for her to take a bite.
She was intimately aware of his intent, focused gaze as her teeth sank into the moist salmon, cheese, and bread. The combination of flavors burst in her mouth. She chewed slowly and found she couldn’t tear her gaze away as he carried the remaining slice to his own lips. She watched his white teeth bite through the food, and all she could think of was those teeth nibbling at her flesh, scraping across her br**sts, his lips tracking lines of fire across her body.
He reached for her teacup, and she almost laughed at the incongruous sight of his enormous hand closing around the delicate cup. In Wynter’s grip, the cup looked like one of those miniature doll’s toys her sisters had played with when they were young. He held the cup to her lips, and she drank without hesitation. The tea could have been as bitter as wormwood, and she still would have drunk it because he had offered it to her.
He turned the cup and, holding her gaze, slowly put his mouth to the spot her lips had touched and drank.
Sweet, smoldering Freika! Kham practically melted.
“If you don’t stop trying to seduce me over breakfast, we will never leave this room today,” she warned him with a rueful laugh.
Even before she finished her laughing admonition, Wynter’s nostrils flared, and his teasing, seductive playfulness gave way to a stiff, distant coldness. His eyes turned snowy, and the tea in the cup turned so abruptly into ice that the delicate porcelain shattered. The frozen brown block of ice that had a split second ago been steaming tea thumped on the tabletop. His fingers fisted around the broken cup handle, and drops of violet-tinged blood stained the tablecloth.
“Sweet Halla!” She jumped up, snatched a napkin from the table, and reached for his hand to staunch the wound. Before she could touch him, his free hand closed around her wrist, and she gasped. It was as if she’d been shackled with an unyielding ring of glacier ice.
“Wynter!” She yanked against him, trying to pull her arm free, but he didn’t budge.
He rose to his feet with slow deliberation, straightening inch by massive, aggressive, all male inch, until he towered over her, forcing her to crane her head back to look up at him. His eyes were pure white now, his face hard as graven stone. Gone was the seductive lover, the teasing mischief in his eyes. He was pure, cold, Winter King, full of wrath and ice.
When he spoke, his voice filled her with dread. “You bound your life to mine.” Each word tore from his lips with a sound like the very earth ripping apart from unimaginable pressure. The low, dangerous rumble shuddered through her, rattling her bones, making the hairs on her arm stand up. “You promised me the fruits of your womb.”
She gaped at him without comprehension. “You said that was what you wanted!” Her throat was dry. The air had gone so cold, each breath scraped through her lungs like sharp knives. What on earth had set him off?
“You smile at me and invite me to your bed. You make me swear to take no other in your place. You act as though you welcome my touch . . . as though you want my child.”
“I did. I do! Wynter, for Halla’s sake, tell me what’s wrong!”
“And all the while . . . all the while as you were smiling so sweetly, welcoming me into your bed and your body, convincing me you were different . . . better than your kin, more honorable and trustworthy . . . all the while you were every inch the lying, deceitful, treacherous witch Valik warned me about. A true Coruscate! Corrupt to the bone, just like every other member of your cursed family!”
