The Bloodsworn by Erin Lindsey Page B

manipulated, she didn’t seem to mind. She was fierce, his priestess, and matched his passion with her own, as if answering a challenge. And then of course she had to outbid him, pressing her body into his, tugging suggestively at his armour. The thin thread of restraint snapped. Rig hoisted her onto the table, sending the wine jug teetering dangerously. She hiked her robes up around her thighs and wrapped her legs around him, ignoring the sound of fabric tearing as her hem caught the edge of his chain mail. That would have to come off, right now. Buckles,
so many blighted buckles
, stood between him and what he wanted, but Vel was practiced by now, fingers deft and sure; she stripped the armour from him piece by piece, letting it clatter to the floor. More fabric ripping, Rig wasn’t sure where, but it didn’t matter, she didn’t care; his hands climbed the bare skin of her thighs, soft beneath his callused palms.
    â€œWe’re going to spill the wine,” she breathed.
    She was teasing him. She knew nothing could stop him now, not the Warlord himself. He slipped his fingers inside her smallclothes, making sure the momentum wasn’t his alone. She nipped his ear, near hard enough to draw blood, and he knew she was with him. Still, he took no shortcuts, kissing her throat while he stroked her, listening to her breath climb in pitch until she gasped, her whole body seizing. Then he scooped her off the table, just high enough to rid her of those last scraps of clothing in his way. Her fingers twined in his hair in anticipation. She threw her head back as he took her, neck curved invitingly, skin glowing bronze in the candlelight. Rig paused to savour the feel of her, the sweet ache of tension hurtling toward him in an ever-building wave.
    She clutched at him, impatient.
    Rig surrendered himself to instinct, riding the riptide to oblivion.
    *   *   *
    Sleep had almost claimed him when the guilt came rushing back.
    â€œVel.”
    She hummed in acknowledgement, rolling onto her side. Dark eyes peered at Rig through a mass of dishevelled black hair. Gods, she was beautiful.
    â€œI hope I didn’t . . . I wouldn’t want you to think . . .”
    She let him struggle for a moment before she took pity on him, full mouth curving into a smile. “I’m a grown woman, Riggard Black. I am capable of resisting your charms if I so choose.”
    â€œI wasn’t trying to manipulate you, is all,” Rig said gruffly.
    â€œI would hardly think you capable of anything so subtle.”
    â€œI’m serious, Vel. I may be thoughtless sometimes, but I’m not a
complete
bastard.”
    She hitched a shoulder indifferently. “You’re making an issue where there is none. Ardin was in your blood, and in mine. I see no need to complicate a most enjoyable couple of hours.”
    He sighed, gazing up at the ceiling. Somehow, he doubted she would see it that way a few days from now.
    â€œIt’s not the lovemaking you feel guilty about,” Vel said with cutting clarity.
    â€œYou’re right, it isn’t.”
    â€œIt is unfair of you to ask me to go. I’ll not spare you that. But I choose to believe I would have done it anyway, even if my feelings for you were”—she faltered briefly—“less than they are.”
    â€œI think so too.” They both needed to believe that, though for very different reasons.
    â€œThe situation is obviously grave.” Vel slid over and tucked herself into him, head propped on his chest. “Your sister’s expression made that clear enough. She looked near to tears when I walked in.”
    â€œShe was, though that had as much to do with personal problems as matters of war and peace.”
    â€œShe would not wish you to tell me about it, I suppose.”
    â€œI shouldn’t think so.”
    He fell silent, thoughts drifting back to his conversation with Alix. She’d