“Rangar,” she said, breaking the kiss. “Really. You need a bath, and proper clothes. I’ll call for a maid—”
“Don’t you dare leave this bed,” he threatened.
He trailed his lips down her jawline and onto her neck. It felt wrong to do this under the shadow of King Aleth’s death, and yet Bryn recalled how much their coupling after learning of Aleth’s illness had eased Rangar’s tension when they’d first returned to Barendur Hold.
She hesitated.
Shehad needed the release then, too, just as she needed it now. Faced with so much uncertainty, what she craved more than anything was to feel one with him. It would be a month before they were bound together in matrimony, and after so much separation, she hungered for that connectionnow.
He brushed her hair off her shoulder and kissed up to her chemise strap. He slid the strap down and replaced it with his lips as his other hand cupped her breast through the fabric.
She sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. It felt impossibly good to melt into his strong hands. He smelled like wood smoke and horses and pine trees, and she closed her eyes and imagined they were in the forest.
“Lay back,” he ordered.
She let herself collapse against the soft blankets. He climbed on top of her, bracing himself with his hands on either side of her head as he kissed her again. Her hands massaged his tense shoulders, gliding over his many hexmarks until she reached his belt. She slipped a finger under it to touch warm skin.
He groaned and pulled back to let his gaze worship her.
“I thought about nothing but you,” he whispered. “I wanted to find that bastard Broderick just so I could return here as fast as I could and dothis.” He dipped his head to capture her nipple beneath her chemise in his lips. “And this.” His hand hardened over her other breast. “And this.”
His knee pushed between her legs, teasing the sensitive area that was already growing wet. Bryn slid her other strap down, freeing her breasts. With his mouth, Rangar sampled her nipples until she felt breathless. She wove a hand in his tousled hair, holding his head steady.
Suddenly, he straightened and dragged Bryn closer a few inches until her hips were flush with his. He started undoing his belt. Her breath came fast as she watched him remove the remainder of his clothes. He was beautiful, her prince—no, her king. She’d so rarely had a chance to admire his naked body in a season of heavy wool clothes and bearskin cloaks.
He pulled her chemise all the way over her hips and treated himself to a long caress over her curves.
“My queen,” he breathed.
“Not yet.” Her voice was barely a whisper, given how hard her heart was pounding.
He dismissed her words with a grunt. “You’ve always been a queen. You could be a peasant, and you’d still be a queen.”
He straddled her widest part as his lips possessed hers, unrelenting. Tingles of pleasure flooded her body as she felt his cock nudging against her entrance. She angled her hips to allow him to slip inside her, urging him to take her.
A funeral . . .
A coronation . . .
Stop it, she commanded herself. All she wanted to think about was Rangar. For years, he’d believed that her soul belonged to him after he’d saved her life. Thefralenbond. She had thought it frightening and backward at the time, and there was still something so boldly possessive about it . . . and yet now that she had also savedhislife, she couldn’t deny that their souls felt intertwined in a way that could never be separated.
Her nerves burned as she wiggled her hips, begging him to fill her. He was only too happy to oblige. He spread her knees as his cock pierced her swollen heat. She shuddered with pleasure as he pulled out and drove into her again.
He wove a hand in her hair to hold her steady as he continued his thrusts. Her whole body was growing feverish. Her breath came faster than she could count. She curled her legs around his hips, urging him to go even deeper still.
He pushed into her one more time, and a wave of tingling crested over her. As she let out a gasp, feeling her pleasure peak, he emptied himself inside her, dripping sweat onto her face.
She sighed deeply, her body going limp. Both breathing hard, they weren’t prepared for the knock at the door.
Bryn sat up sharply.
“My lord? My lady?” It was Lada, one of the maids who’d been helping Bryn with wedding planning. Another timid knock came at the door. “I have your grieving garments here . . .”
“Not now!” Rangar growled.
Bryn shot him a look and called out kindlier, “Just a moment, Lada.” She reached for the robe at the foot of the bed, but Rangar held her hips firmly against his.
“I’m not done with you,” he said in a dark growl. “What if I want you again?”
