I shook my head, a dark, joyless smile touching my lips. "I don't need to ask for things, sweet Addie. I take what I want." I leaned closer, my mouth grazing her ear. "The question is: what are you offering to balance the scales?"
A shadow of disappointment darkened her eyes, a flicker of something—maybe hope—dying out as she realized this wasn't going to be the romantic surrender she’d dreamed of. It was a transaction. The sooner she realized that, the better we'd get on. Everything between us would be a business transaction. It was my only love language.
"I'll give you what every man wants; I’ll give you a blow job. Just leave Nell out of the fallout."
The arousal that had been a wildfire between us moments ago dampened. Her tone was clinical. It was a line item on a ledger. It was an insult to the wolf in me that wanted her soul, not just her mouth. But I was still a man. I wanted the blowjob, too.
I released her throat. The sudden absence of my touch left a faint red mark on her pale skin. I stood up, the bed creaking as I withdrew my weight, and looked down at her with a coldness that matched her own.
"I’ll add it to your ledger to collect at a later date. I prefer my debts paid with interest, and right now, your heart wouldn't be in the trade."
I turned toward the door, my shadow stretching long across the floorboards.
"Are we keeping score now?" her voice followed me, hoarse and jagged.
I paused at the threshold, looking back over my shoulder at my wife with her red hair and pale skin against the pillows. My red mark was a brand on her throat. It turned me the fuck on. Which is why I had to leave. I didn't fuck with a fogged head. And right now, I wasn't seeing straight.
"Always," I said. "You owe me, sweet Addie. Don't forget it."
CHAPTER TWENTY
ADDIE
Itossed and turned until the pre-dawn light turned the shadows of my room into haunting silhouettes. Every time I drifted off, the phantom pressure of Vidar’s hand pressed down against my throat. I woke with a start, my heart hammering.
The room was empty.
After getting dressed, I fully expected the door to be locked. It clicked open with a soft, silent pivot. I tiptoed into the hallway, my sandals sinking into the plush runner.
Vidar’s bedroom door was firmly closed. I hesitated, my hand hovering in the empty air. Part of me wanted to knock, to walk in there and—what? Apologize? Demand a seat at the table? He’d made it devastatingly clear last night what my role in this marriage would be, and "equal partner" wasn't on the list.
I turned away and headed downstairs. The Great Hall was quiet, but this time, it didn't feel lonely. There was a clear dividein this house, a psychological border between the grand rooms where outsiders were entertained and the warm, lived-in spaces where the family embraced each other. I was standing on the family side.
The low drone of a lawnmower drifted through the window. I peered out and froze. Gunnar was outside, shirt off, pushing a mower across the vast emerald lawn with a casualness that defied his status as a high-level enforcer. He glanced up, caught me staring, and offered a wink before turning back to his work.
I pulled back, a flush warming my cheeks, and retreated into the family room. Ivar was sprawled on the couch, a thick math textbook open on his lap and earbuds jammed into his ears. He was nodding along to a beat I couldn't hear, completely lost in his own world. I didn't want to disturb the peace, so I slipped past him toward the scent of garlic and ginger.
In the kitchen, Mei Ling stood at the stove, humming as she stirred a pot. Fenrir stalked behind her, his large arms wrapped around her waist as he nuzzled the side of her neck. It was a private, tender moment that I had never witnessed with my parents. Most of my memories of my mother were of her anxiously shoving me into a corner and placing herself in front of me, or trying to get my baby brother to settle while glancing at a locked door.
Fenrir’s gaze shifted. He caught me watching and winked. I blinked, completely caught off guard at his grin. A small smile tugged at my lips, a treacherous sense of belonging blooming in my chest.
I backed away, overwhelmed by the warmth, only to thud into a wall of solid muscle.
I didn't even have to look up to know it was Vidar. For a split second, his chest felt like something I wanted to melt into, a sanctuary against the confusion of the morning. But when I looked up, the man standing there wasn't the one from mydream. His face was a mask of hard, expressionless marble. He barely spared me a glance.
"I’m taking Addie to the penthouse in the city," Vidar announced.
Fenrir’s brow furrowed into a deep frown. Mei Ling’s hand stilled on the spoon. Neither of them argued, but the air in the room shifted from gold to gray. I felt the weight of it in my stomach. This wasn't a honeymoon trip; it was a relocation. It was a punishment.
"Be careful," a voice rumbled from the dining table. I hadn't even noticed Magnus sitting there, a cup of black coffee in his hand. "Things in the packs are more than a bit shaky after last night."
My ears pricked up. Strategy. Intel. I leaned in, hoping to learn more. Anything I could use to extricate my brother from this family.
"The Volkis and the Lupettos aren't happy. They’re calling it a breach of?—"
"We’ll discuss it later," Vidar cut his brother off.
The wall went back up, higher and thicker than before. My husband didn't want things discussed in front of me. Because I’d been caught snooping.
