Page 25 of The Dark Prince
I flinched at the anger in his voice. Then I balled my hands into fists. I’d spent most of my life being bullied by my step-father and Roselle. I’d be damned if my husband bullied me. “If you don’t like the way I look, you should have picked Roselle. May I point out thatyouchoseme?”
His grip on the ax tightened. “So I forced you to marry me. Is that the way of it?” Tyr’s voice was soft, but oh so deadly. Goosebumps pricked along my skin.
“I am thankful you married me,” I protested, willing him to understand. “The house was hell. But I don’t understand why you haven’t yet … Why we haven’t …” My cheeks burned in shame. “I figured I wasn’t pleasing to you,” I finished lamely.
Tyr didn’t say anything back. Instead he stood, dropping the ax on the small table. He whirled around to face me, eyes flashing.
Wildly, I hoped he’d kiss me again, like on our wedding night. Heat pooled in my belly at the memory, my lips parting is remembrance.
“You cannot look at me like that,” Tyr snapped, his hands going to his hair in frustration.
“Like what?” I asked coyly.
“Like I’m a normal man. Or some kind of hero. I’m not.” His voice broke, and he glanced away.
Boldly, I stood on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his neck. I pulled his face down to mine, careful of the edge of his mask as I gave him a light kiss on his lips.
He groaned with need, then pushed me away.
I stumbled, tripping backward and landing on the pile of furs in the corner.
Tyr stood hunched over, hands covering his mask and eyes. “Please. I’m sorry. I cannot give you what you want or what you desperately deserve. I just … I’m sorry. Go to sleep.”
He sat back down at the table and turned his back to me, picking up his blade and returning to his steady cleaning motion of back and forth.
Inwardly, I was reeling. Clearly, he wanted me, but he was resisting. Why? To what end? It was hard not to feel rejected, but I reminded myself of that one desperate kiss we’d shared. He wanted me, all right.
I bet it had something to do with his mask. He hadn’t taken it off once since he’d shown up at my manor. Did it hide a horrible visage like all the rumors said? If it did, he should know that my constitution was sterner than most—I wouldn’t cry or run screaming like Roselle would have if she’d been his bride.
I burrowed into the furs, piling them on top of me. At least I could take comfort in the fact he had chosen me over her. If nothing else, I had to believe in that. And that with time, he would hopefully open up to me.
The day had been long, and my exhaustion was catching up with me. Sleep found me as my eyes drifted closed, Tyr’s hulking figure that last thing I saw before slumber took me.
Hands were everywhere. My mother’s body lay in state in our chapel, and nobles from far and wide had descended upon our manor to offer their condolences.
I was sixteen. They were men grown—boys who’d just reached their majority, men comfortable in their middle years, and even older men with beards and hair streaked with gray and white.
They all had come to pay respects to my step-father and lavish praise on my step-sister. But in the alcoves and shadowy corners, they stalked me. The other servants tried to help, but after my step-father had Marie beaten for lying about where I was, they’d kept their eyes down and made themselves scarce.
I hid under my step-father’s desk in his study. The hands wouldn’t find me there. They wouldn’t be able to touch me there. They—
Isadoooooooraaaaaaa …
No. It was a trick. No one knew I was here.
I curled up into a ball, wrapping my arms around my knees.
Isadoooooooraaaaaa …
Don’t cry. If you cried, they’d find you faster.
“I see you….”
I didn’t have time to scream as a hand reached in and grabbed, dragging me from my hiding spot like I weighed nothing. It threw me on my step-father’s desk and then there were hands everywhere. They tore at my dress, my hair, my skin. I screamed to stop, but no one listened. I screamed and screamed and screamed—
“Isadora! Wake up!”
My eyes shot open, darkness greeting me along with the warm glow of candles. The hut. The furs.Tyr.
