“You put yourself in my dreams. Tell me the truth. You did it. You made me think of only you. Want only you.”
Her nod was slow in coming.
He squeezed his eyes shut tight at her answer. Even now, some small sliver of hope, desire that she wanted him for more than a sword, still ached in his soul. Idiot. He sucked in a large breath of air. Then his gaze met hers. She pulled her chin from his grasp and shrank lower into the lake, the water sloshing over her lips. She looked more afraid of him than ever.
Good.
He always hunted best when his prey panicked.
CHAPTER FOUR
BREENA BIT BACK THE urge to scream. What good would it do, anyway? From the looks of him, he’d only laugh. Osborn seemed to be pleased by her growing unease. As if he grew stronger from her fear.
Then she just wouldn’t be afraid of him.
Ha! Impossible.
Her first, and really her only, instinct had been to shrink away from him, and shield herself with the water. And she wasn’t exactly getting the reaction she wanted from him—to back away from her. Still, she wouldn’t show her fear of him. She was a princess, and one of her singular skills was acting. “Why are you so angry with me?” she asked, deliberately keeping her voice low and laced with the confusion she felt.
“You ask that?”
The man basically roared at her. A pair of birds took to the trees, and the leaves rattled. No one had ever dared to raise their voice to her. Not once in her entire life. Breena found she didn’t much care for it.
“Your bellowing is scaring the wildlife.”
His lips thinned, as if he were forcing himself to calm. “I don’t bellow.”
She almost destroyed their uneasy truce by lifting an eyebrow and replying with something verging on sarcasm. Her mother would be appalled at that kind of tone, but she’d learned it from her brother Nicolai. Her parents would be shocked at some of the stuff her brothers shared with a girl who was supposed to be a gently raised bridal prospect. Another wave of homesickness racked through her. Breena’s throat tightened, but she quickly swallowed away the stiffness along with the sadness.
She needed this man’s help. Desperately. Everything else she’d attempted to do to gain his attention had failed. Well, not everything. Her body had his full notice. Breena felt herself warm despite the coldness of the water. But he’d already proved she couldn’t change his mind with kisses. Neither did the logical approach of simply asking for his help.
But this was her warrior. There was no denying it. Why dream of him? Why did he dream of her, if he were not chosen for her?
Breena smiled sweetly. She’d get him to help her. Somehow and some way. “Of course you didn’t bellow. My apologies.” Even if she had to lie to make it happen.
His eyes narrowed. His gaze searched hers, obviously looking for signs of deception. Breena held her breath, willing every muscle of her face to remain slack. I’m completely truthful. His broad, tense shoulders began to relax.
Either he wasn’t very good at spotting deception, or he scared everyone around him so much, no one dared to lie.
Or maybe he knew she was lying, and enjoyed the idea of making her think he believed her every word. She could go around and around with conjecture but what she needed was action.
“I never meant to upset you,” she tried again.
The warrior made a scoffing sound. “You didn’t upset me.”
Yeah, he’d have to actually care in order to be upset. This hard man in front of her didn’t appear as if he cared about much.
“Hurt?” she offered, enjoying going further down the path of “upset” when he clearly expected her to go the opposite direction.
He crossed his arms.
“Sad?”
His expression told her she was pushing it.
“Angry?”
“Closer.”
“Enraged?”
“Closer still.”
But his dark brown eyes no longer held a trace of ire. The tension never returned to those big shoulders of his, and his hands hadn’t fisted at his sides. What do you know, the warrior in front of her had a sense of humor.
“Irritated?” she finally questioned.
“Irritated,” he said with a nod.
Yes, she just bet he was. If she’d ever been allowed to bet.
“I apologize if I irritated you,” she said formally.
Surprise flitted in his gaze until he promptly masked it.
Her mother wouldn’t have been able to find fault with her apology. Except the part where she was naked. Wet. And standing in front of what she assumed was an equally naked man with only her hair as any kind of covering.
A princess at the Elden Court was seen but rarely heard.
“Your power comes with marriage,” her mother would often instruct Breena, “and the best marriages are arranged with a man who knows nothing about you. Can’t know anything about you because you’ve been silent your whole life. Conduct yourself right, and there will be absolutely nothing any potential bridegroom can object to. Nothing his ambassadors can negotiate over on the marriage contract.”
Even at the young age of eight, her mother’s tutoring sounded bleak and lonely. Breena hadn’t been very good at neutralizing her features then. The pout was already forming, the need to argue quick on her lips.
The memory played on. Queen Alvina squeezed her hand gently. “Once you command your own palace, your own kingdom, then you’ll be the woman you were meant to be. Until then, observe. Watch the servers and the cooks and the seamstresses. Listen to their conversations, what concerns them. Learn to read the faces of the hunters and soldiers before they ever report to the king. Knowledge and understanding…that is how you rule.” A girl could almost be forgotten when she lived among the shadows. Instincts alone told her when someone’s words didn’t match their expressions, as often happened with the visitors and foreign dignitaries who spoke with the queen and king in chambers.
Over time, she’d also grown to know the feelings and emotions of her people with only a look, or from a few hushed whispers. Such as when a kitchen maid was sad or one of the young huntsmen was in love. Her family might be vampires or wield powerful magic, but she could uncover what most people wanted to keep hidden. Like the proud man in front of her. Breena suspected this man held a lot of secrets. And she wanted to know all of them.
And wasn’t she just bemoaning the dullness of her life not so long ago? Since then she’d been awakened, raced through her home in search of her brothers, been captured and brought before—
Something searing and painful lanced across her mind. Breena blinked back tears, either from the pain or from the memory, she couldn’t be sure.
Avenge.
Survive.
The two conflicting commands battled inside her head, until she doubled over, gasping for breath.
“Are you all right?” He grasped her arm with his big hand a little too painfully. Perhaps her warrior was unused to touching females. A tiny thrill shot through her. The warmth of his fingers soothed and actually stopped the commands echoing in her mind.
She looked up at him. A sense of urgency filled her, and she suddenly grew desperate to make him understand. To want to help her. His touch could block the pain of her memories, could block the words echoing in her mind.
“What we talked about before…it’s all true. My magic led me to you.”
He made a scornful noise. His hand fell to his side, and the corner of his lip curled up in disgust. He didn’t trust her. She sensed the man didn’t trust many. What had made him, his life, so very hard?
But she’d seen him with his guard down.
In her dreams.
There he’d smiled. And laughed. And desired. And shared himself with her. The hard man in front of her now would hack off his own arm before baring his private thoughts, his soul, to anyone. Least of all to her. He probably viewed her as the woman forcing her way into his sleep, when he was most vulnerable. No wonder he didn’t trust her and was so very angry with her. But she had to make him believe her.