He smiled at her. “Now, are you going to thank me properly?”
“I said ‘thank you.’ That’s considered in some cultures as thanking you properly.”
“I was hoping for a little more than that.”
She studied him for a long moment before she nodded.
“All right.” She scooted down a bit on the bed, pulled her gown up high on her thighs, and relaxed back into the mattress. “If you could make it quick before the food gets here, that would be great.”
Gwenvael felt a small twitch beneath his eye. He often got something similar right on his eyelid but only when he had to deal with his father. Apparently a new one had developed that belonged only to Lady Dagmar. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I hope you’re not expecting me to get on my knees because I don’t think the healer—”
“No!” Good gods, this woman! “That’s not what I meant, either.”
“That’s always what men mean when they ask to be thanked properly.”
“Your world frightens me. I want us to be clear on that.” He leaned over and grabbed her waist, lifting her until her back again rested on the propped-up pillows.
“I’m unclear as to what you want, then.”
“A kiss,” he said, pulling her dress back down to her ankles. “A simple kiss.
Gwenvael looked down at his body. Horrified, he sat up. “What is this? What’s happened to me?”
“Calm down. It’ll heal quick enough, I’m sure.”
“Heal? I’m hideous!”
“You’re alive.”
“Hideously alive!” He covered her face with his hands. “Don’t look at me! Look away!”
“Stop it!” She pulled at his hands. “Have you lost your mind?”
Gwenvael dropped back to the bed, turned his face toward the wall. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“Gwenvael—”
“I’ll have to live alone, at the top of a castle somewhere. I’ll hide from the daylight and only come out at night.”
“Please stop this.”
“I’ll be alone but not for long because you’ll all want me more. You’ll lust for the beautiful warrior I once was and pity the hideous creature I’ve become. Most importantly, you’ll want to soothe my pain.” He looked at her again. “Don’t you want to soothe my pain? Right now? Without that dress on?”
“No. I do not.”
Dagmar tried to stand, and Gwenvael caught her hand, pulling her back down. “You can’t leave me. I’m tortured and brooding. You need to show me how much you adore me so I can learn to love myself again.”
“You’ve never stopped loving yourself.”
“Because I’m amazing.
Normally, I’d lie and connive and do whatever necessary to make you take me into the south.”
“But …”
More tears began to flow. “But that thing …”
“Thing? What thing?”
“That thing … in one’s head … that tells you when something would be wrong to do. It won’t let me do it.”
Feeling a sudden high level of annoyance, Gwenvael carefully asked, “Do you mean your … conscience?”
Her tears turned into hysterical sobs, and she went down on her side, her head dropping into his lap.
“Dagmar! Everyone has a conscience.”
“I don’t!”
“Of course you do.”
“I’m a politician, Gwenvael! Of course, I don’t have a conscience. At least I didn’t. Now I’m cursed with one. And it’s your fault!”
Somehow he knew that last bit would happen.
It was those damn wool socks. He didn’t realize he loved her until she
told him about out-negotiating a god of war—the most haggle-loving of the
gods—with socks!
He stopped before opening the door and faced her. "You'll leave the window open for me and you'll be naked. When I come back, I'll take what I want from you, as many times as I want to." He grinned; it was pure and raw and astonishingly beautiful. "Understand me Lady Dagmar?" She shook her head. "No. You'll have to explain it to me."
"I will. Even if I have to tie you to bed and explain it to you again and again and again." He looked over one more time. "And don't play with yourself after I'm gone. Don't want you wearing my pussy out before I've had a chance to use it." With his hand on the door, Gwenvael rewarded her with the warmest smile she'd seen from anyone. "Besides, you look so beautiful when you come, I don't want to miss a second of it.
Stichwörter: gwenvael lady-dagmar
It means she's amazing - and terrifying. Annwyl kills without question, rules with an iron fist, and has little patience for anyone. She can be cruel , she can be loving, she can be heartless, and she can care too much... I can't explain Annwyl
G.A. AikenYour cold, inflexible heart makes me burn to be inside you.”
“Charmer.
Stichwörter: humor rhona vigholf
You want me to be honest with you?” Vigholf snapped. “You want me to tell you why I have my hungry face as you call it? Because of you. Because I’m hungry for you. If there’s anything I want to eat—it’s you.”
Rhona stepped back, hands on hips, and accused, “You cannibalistic bastard!”
(Ragnar just came back from the war.)
Then Keita the Viper spun around and ran into his arms, hugging him tight. "This is all your fault!" she accused.
"What is?"
"How much I missed you! And I was shockingly worried about you. I actually cared if you were hurt or had been damaged in some way. She leaned back, squinted up at him. "You weren't, were you? Damaged?"
"Not so that I won't heal."
"Good." She rested her head on his chest. "Believe it or not, I don't know what I'd have done if something happened to you." Keita abruptly pulled back from him and punched him in the chest. "What have you done to me, foreigner? Well, let me make it plain that you'll not trap me in your evil web of amazing sex and unconditional love! I'm stronger than that!"
And Ragnar sighed...loudly.
I’m off duty, cousin, which by Cadwaladr law means I can beat you ugly.
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