Page 42 of The Dark Prince
I reared back as black blood spurted from the wound, quickly coating my hands and bleeding down the side of the fake beast.
“It is just sheep’s blood. I don’t want the young ones to be squeamish if they are forced into this situation. I want them to be prepared to kill, and not hesitate.”
I couldn’t stop staring at the blood. It seeped under my nails and dripped down my wrist into the ground below.
“Where did the beast come from?” I asked, turning to him nonchalantly, as though we were doing nothing more out of the ordinary than having tea.
Tyr ignored my question. “I will have something made especially for you, and to match your hands.” He tucked away the knife I held in my hands, then seized my fingers and carefully wiped each one with a handkerchief he drew from his pocket. The fine silk quickly became stained with red.
His hands against mine felt warm and secure. I knew he was hiding something from me, but I couldn’t help how I felt when he touched me. I let out a contented sigh before I could help myself. He froze and looked at me.
We locked gazes.
I covered his hand with my other one, trapping it in between both of mine. Not that I was under any illusion I could ever truly trap him, of course.
“Why did you let me see you without your mask?”
Especially when the men who fought and bled next to him never had. What made me so special?
Tyr looked away, but brought his other hand up to mine until all our fingers entwined together. He tightened his grip on me, almost painfully so.
“You saw the ugliest part of me already and refused to be cowed. What was a bit of sagging skin after that?”
My mind whipped back to the destroyed room. I remembered the smashed chairs, the broken furniture, and the bits of glass everywhere. Rage of that nature normally frightened me. Men normally frightened me.
But Tyr didn’t.
“I must speak to Maddeus. I’m leaving him here to watch over you and the village.” Tyr leaned down and before either of us realized what was happening, he’d kissed my brow. A lazy grin stretched across my lips, and I tilted my chin up to look at him. It was a casual gesture, but it felt like climbing to the top of a mountain. It was what a husband did to the wife he adored.
“And entertain the princess?” I pouted, annoyed.
He gazed at me with such longing and reverence that it took my breath away. I wanted to kiss him, but blood still covered me. I needed another bath thanks to him.
Filthy man.
“Leave her in her room to rot. She’s familiar with the castle and grounds. Let her entertain herself,” he suggested.
I didn’t know how I felt about the princess having such intimate knowledge of my husband’s castle.
“Be safe,” I said to him. “Come back soon.”
He gave my hands another squeeze and rewarded me with a rare, quick smile in his eyes.
I made a split second decision. I didn’t care that I was dirty; so was he. I didn’t care if he was as skittish as a young colt around me. I felt oddly possessive of him with the familiar princess nearby.
I hooked my arm around his neck and leaned all my weight down, forcing him to bend and stagger down toward me. I grabbed his face with both of my bloody hands and kissed him, ignoring the cold mask under my fingertips.
He seized immediate control, grabbing my waist and forcing me backward until my back hit a tree. He knocked the breath out of me, but I tightened my hold on his neck, refusing to let go.
Tyr groaned into my mouth, a sound that was more animal than man as it morphed into a possessive growl. One hand groped down my side, fisting the fabric of my dress in his hands.
I bit down on his bottom lip, knowing that for every aggressive move he made, I would need to egg him on or else he would retreat into himself, convinced he’d hurt me. How could I convince him that not all pain was bad?
His questing hand continued up past my stomach and ribs until he palmed one breast through the fabric of my dress. I gasped out loud and his mouth descended on my neck, his teeth ghosting along my throat. Grunting, he tore the top of my dress, popping a breast free and licking right across the nipple, his tongue rough and textured. The other hand came up to my neck and squeezed lightly.
A moan left my throat. I didn’t care if someone came upon us. In fact, I wanted someone to. Let them see how much my husband wanted me, and how much I wanted him.
Tyr’s mouth left my breast, and he kissed me, one hand roving south as his sharp nails slipped under my hem and traced burning a path up my legs. He nuzzled into my neck and nudged my legs apart, supporting me against the tree.
