Married by Treachery Page 3

  She almost asked. Her lips parted to start listing off all of the questions that’d been mounting inside of her since her abduction, but then she caught herself. “You’re trying to distract me.”

  “Am I?”

  She pressed that blade as hard as she dared, but the Bear Prince did not flinch, and also, she didn’t feel any hair upon his neck. Adrenaline and circumstances had initially distracted her, but now that she thought on it, she realized her blade rested against smooth skin.

  Confused, she reached for his face with her free hand, but his free hand lashed out with that impossible quickness and caught hers.

  This hand also felt significantly less hairy than she recalled.

  “It seems we are at an impasse, my bride,” he said, as if the entire situation was completely under his control and it thoroughly amused him.

  “We’re only at an impasse if you believe that I am not prepared to die.”

  She felt him studying her.

  “You are prepared to die?” he asked.

  She did not like the mockery in his tone. “If it results in your death and an end to Harran’s debt to your people, then yes.”

  At this, he jerked their joined hands around the back of her neck and pulled her close so that she was practically lying on top of him. Raquel strained in his grip, against the blade at her throat, their breaths mixed between them.

  His smelled sweet, she noticed. Like the blooming buds of spring.

  “You mortals and your pathetic ideals.” In contrast to his breath, his tone held no sweetness at all. It was all winter and ice. “I’ve heard it a thousand times over, from a thousand different men, but each time your kind stares death in the face, you cower in fear. Every one of you. You do anything to avoid it. Betray your neighbor, your family. Because fear of dying is your greatest weakness and our greatest advantage over you.”

  Raquel trembled with seven years of rage. “That is true for some, but it is not true for me.”

  “Oh, and do you possess some rare power that evades the rest of your miserable kind?” he said derisively.

  “I do, and so do others who are fortunate enough to find it,” Raquel answered without hesitation.

  For a moment, he did not seem to breathe. “And what power is that?”

  “The power of love.”

  He graced her with a deriding chuckle.

  “You mock it, but love is the greatest power of all,” she persisted, conviction flying from her lips in passionate drops of spittle that (hopefully) landed upon his face. “It is greater than all the magik in the world, because love is boundless. It gives beyond all comprehension, stands beyond all reason, and it gives a strength of will that your miserable kind can only dream of, if you dream at all. But I’m not surprised you didn’t factor this into your little equation, because your kind has no heart, and that is your greatest weakness and our greatest advantage over you.”

  One breath.

  Two.

  “You have given this an obscene amount of thought,” he mused.

  “Every day of my life for the last seven years.”

  “I might advise you find yourself a hobby.”

  “Lucky for you, I did.”

  Raquel had not been sitting idly while she’d been speaking. With the hand caught in his grasp, and in his momentary distraction listening to her speak, she had turned her wrist just enough, using his own grip to catch the small clasp at her wrist strap. As soon as she spoke that last word, she turned her wrist just so.

  The small spring snapped, and the hidden blade stabbed into his palm.

  The Bear Prince cursed in shock and in pain, his grip loosening, but it was all Raquel needed to twist away from him. However, she’d hardly made it off of the bed when he grabbed a fistful of her skirts and yanked her right back.

  She yelped in surprise, twisting on the rebound, and slashed with her blade. He ducked to avoid being skewered, then barreled into her stomach like a battering ram, sending them both stumbling back to where Raquel slammed against the wall. The blade flew from her hand as she struck the wall with impressive force, knocking something—a portrait? —free of its support, and it crashed to the floor as Raquel reached for his…

  “Where is all your hair!?” Raquel exclaimed.

  The Bear Prince grabbed her hands and slammed them over her head, against the wall, the both of them heaving. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She was heaving with exertion, but his breath was perfectly and irritatingly even.

  “And where are your manners, my bride?” he taunted.

  “You speak of manners when you’ve murdered six innocent young women?” She tried to knee him in his Forest-man parts, but he easily twisted away.

  “Six innocent…Ah, you mean the other mortal girls.”

  “And you’ve already forgotten them!” She managed to rip a hand free and clap his ear.

  He flinched back with a cry, which gave Raquel just enough space to slip out and under, away from him. However, he promptly grabbed her skirts and jerked her right back again.

  “Blasted, useless heap of”—she started, and he pinned her to the wall—“fabric!”

  To her annoyance, he’d fastened both of her wrists over her head with just one hand, using his body to keep her legs from flying at him while his free hand slipped beneath her neckline. She gasped in outrage. “Don’t you dare—”

  His fingers reached only so far as to snatch the little lockpicks she’d secured.

  “Thief! How dare you! Return those at once!”

  “Need I remind you that you are the one who snuck into my bedchamber in the middle of the night to murder me in my sleep.” His one hand calmly gripped both of hers and held them fixed over her head while he held the lockpicks with his other.

  “You left your door totally unguarded and unlocked,” she shot back. “One might think you wanted me to murder you.”

  “I did wonder if you had the nerve,” he admitted. “Though I failed to realize how many more little claws you’d hidden on your person.” He leaned closer, and his sweet breath brushed over her face again. “I wonder… Should I strip you down until I’ve uncovered every one of them, my beloved bride?”

  “Stop calling me that!” Raquel kicked high, knocked the lockpicks out of his grasp, and they flew across the room as she twisted away from him. This time she remembered to grab her skirts before he could, and she dove for the blade she’d lost. Still, he moved lightning-quick and was upon her a second later. She just managed to roll out from under him, onto her back, as she raised the blade.

  Only to be blocked by his.

  He’d pinned her again, but this time to the floor. His body was over hers, his heavy legs weighing hers down, while their blades crossed resolutely between them. “Most women would beg for me to call them beloved.”

  Raquel couldn’t help it. She snorted.

  “Well, that isn’t very loving, my bride,” he drawled, and—to Raquel’s satisfaction—he now sounded marginally out of breath.

  “I find it incomprehensible that anyone would pine for the affections of a feral beast!” Raquel tried to buck him, twisting her legs to gain the advantage, but he remained one step ahead. As if he anticipated her movements and was simply toying with her. And while that was deeply concerning, there was something infinitely more pressing that Raquel needed to sort out.

  “Where the devil is all your hair?” she demanded again.

  His shoulders shook with quiet laughter, and then a light sprang into being.

  4

  At first, Raquel could not make sense of what she was seeing, because the light shone from a lantern behind the Bear Prince, and all she could make out was his looming silhouette. But it quickly became apparent that this silhouette possessed no bushy mane.

  She might have thought he’d chopped it off, but it wasn’t even the same texture. This was smooth and glossy, in contrast to that wild mass of tangles, and he’d tied it back at his crown, though a forelock slipped free as he leaned over her. No, h
e wasn’t the Bear Prince at all. This man had hair black as night, a pair of intense honey-brown eyes that pierced right through to her soul, and smooth (un-hairy) skin. His features were sharp and fine like that of his kind, but mischief curled his full lips, unbalancing his aristocratic air, which Raquel found oddly and woefully endearing.

  Saints above! This was not good. Not good at all.

  And, to her dawning mortification, he was naked. Utterly and completely. Bare as a new babe in his mother’s arms.

  His mischievous curl deepened, and two dimples appeared. It was definitely the sort of smile that most women would beg for.

  “And how do you find your prince now that you can see through all of his hair?” he asked lowly. His words slipped around their crossed blades and grazed her lips.

  Raquel’s cheeks caught fire for entirely different reasons. She’d never seen a man naked before, not like this, let alone had one on top of her. “You could have warned me!”

  “My sincerest apologies, my beloved,” he said in that small space between them. His eyes were liquid gold. “The next time you attempt to stab me in my sleep, I’ll request an intermission to clothe myself. However, I must admit: this appears to be proving a far more effective distraction than anything else I’ve…”

  Raquel growled in frustration, shoved their blades aside, and slammed her head against his nose.

  The Bear Prince, who resembled a bear no longer, cried out with a laugh—actually laughed!—as Raquel kicked him off of her and climbed to her feet.

  “I think you broke my nose.” He sounded almost impressed. He touched his nose where bright red blood trickled, and then he stood at full and glorious height.

  Oh, sacred saints in heaven.

  Raquel was definitely not gawking at him. He was going to kill her. One did not gawk at one’s murderer, no matter how devastatingly beautiful he was.

  “Get dressed!” she sort of shrieked at him.

  He looked at her as if she were a crazed animal.

  And then a light rapping sounded upon the door. “Everything all right in there, Jake?”

  Raquel recognized the voice as belonging to the man with the braided locks—Marix—who’d met them at the gate when they’d first entered.

  “Jake?” Raquel hissed at the Not-a-Bear Prince.

  The Not-a-Bear Prince smiled viciously through blood-stained teeth. “Everything is perfectly fine, Marix. My beloved just wanted to”—those golden eyes danced—“get better acquainted.”

  Raquel made a face and those blasted dimples reappeared.

  Marix chuckled from behind the door, and then his footsteps retreated. Meanwhile Jake, or whoever he was, touched his nose with his pointer finger, and both blood and break disappeared.

  “That is totally unfair!” Raquel exclaimed as Jake crossed the room. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting dressed.” He stopped before a wooden chest, then glanced sideways at her and arched a brow. “Unless you’ve changed your mind…?”

  Raquel scowled. He flashed her a wicked grin then turned back to the chest and lifted the lid. He pulled out a pair of breeches, a tunic, and some other item that didn’t register because her attention had, unfortunately, drifted.

  Raquel clenched her teeth and forced her gaze from his bare (and perfect) backside to his face. “What is going on?” she demanded. “Where is your hair, and why did that man call you Jake?”

  He released the lid and let it drop with a loud thunk. “Who’s to say I didn’t cut my hair?”

  “I’m not an idiot,” she said, though he did not appear to agree with her. “It’s not just the hair… you are a completely different man from the one who kidnapped me!”

  He stepped into his pants.

  Oh, mother of all that was holy!

  “Mm. Are you so sure…?” He fastened his buckle.

  What was she sure about? Raquel suddenly couldn’t remember, and she squeezed her eyes shut so that she could think properly. “I mean to say that you are the same man who kidnapped me, but your appearance is vastly—”

  “It was glamour.”

  She opened her eyes to see him holding up his tunic, appraising it. Taking his time while the lantern light warmed his muscled—

  “Dress faster,” she snapped.

  He looked straight at her, his eyes molten in the lantern light. “I’m going to die soon. I might as well enjoy what little time I’m afforded.”

  Raquel’s lips parted and closed. “You heard that.”

  He winked and pulled his tunic up and over his head.

  Raquel had had quite enough. “Who—are—you?”

  “Fair warning, my bride.” He shoved his arms through his sleeves, and the inked vines encircling his biceps flexed and shifted. “The more you learn about me, the more difficult it will be for you to take my life. I believe it has to do with that heart of yours that you possess and I lack. It makes your kind prone to sympathy.”

  “Doubtful, in your case.”

  Jake stopped and glanced over at her with a thoughtful expression. “You are so resolved to despise me when I have done nothing but—”

  “Nothing? You murdered my brother’s betrothed!”

  His features opened with an ah, and then he fastened the ties on his tunic. “The last bride, I imagine. What was her name again…? Adair… Adienne… Ad—”

  “Adina!”

  “That’s right.” He tugged on his sleeves and pushed back his hair, which had inadvertently fallen free of its tie.

  “You don’t even remember!”

  “Slight girl with raven’s hair and beady eyes?”

  “She did not have beady eyes!”

  “See? I remember.” He glanced at the knife in her hands, which now trembled with barely controlled rage. “Careful, my beloved, or you’ll drop it.”

  “You wretched, heartless…how can you be so callous?”

  He tapped two fingers to his chest. “No heart, remember? But to be fair, I am not one to get particularly attached. Especially when I know a person isn’t going to be around for very long.”

  “You are the reason she’s gone!”

  He strode for the hearth and snapped his fingers. A fire sprang to life, and Raquel suddenly noticed the ampoule and silver goblet standing atop the fireside table. He snapped his fingers again, and a second goblet blinked into existence beside the first.

  “If you think I am going to share a drink with Adina’s murderer, then you have grossly underestimated me.”

  “I don’t think I have.” He picked up the ampoule and tipped it over one of the goblets, his back to her.

  This was her chance. Answers be damned, she’d let this futile interrogation go on far too long already.

  She threw the knife.

  It was a good throw. Lee would have been proud. And the blade would have struck this abominable Forest kith right between his broad shoulders, but at the last second, he raised two fingers like an afterthought. The blade promptly flipped around and shot right back at Raquel, halting impossibly just one inch from her breast.

  Raquel’s breath lodged in her chest as she eyed that little flash of silver hovering in midair before her. She took a step back, but the blade followed. She stepped to the side, but still, it followed, never increasing the distance, while never decreasing it either.

  Meanwhile, the man—Jake—lazily picked up his goblet and took a long sip.

  “Scoundrel!” she snarled.

  He raised his chalice in toast.

  “Hateful…conceited…murdering piece of—”

  “Here, have a drink.” He picked up the second goblet and approached her as easily as one might approach a fluffy kitten.

  Which only inflamed her anger. “You can burn in the fiery pits of hell!”

  “I probably will someday, but before then, I would like to share a drink with my bride. And I find that awkward situations are better digested with wine. Probably a lot of it, in our case.” He stopped before her, goblet extended.


  She spat at him.

  The glob of spittle landed on his chin, which he wiped upon his shoulder. “Yes, I can see why you’re still a virgin.”

  “Ah!” She lunged for him—to what end, she couldn’t say—but she did not make it far, because the knife still hovered over her chest, and the moment she leaned forward, its tip dug into the upper swell of her left breast, puckering the skin.

  He eyed her. “I see this is a sensitive subject. Here.” He held the goblet before her again.

  Raquel clenched her teeth. “I said I will not share a drink with Adina’s—”

  “Murderer. Yes, I know.” He leaned in close, over the dagger, his mouth at her ear. He smelled like the forest, like summer and fresh rain. “I did not murder your dear Adina, my bride,” he whispered. His sweet breath tickled her ear, and a shiver swept over her skin. “She still lives. However, I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. Especially my brother.”

  Adina was…alive?

  Raquel stood frozen in shock. Her gaze met his, and then she remembered how close he was standing, and she promptly looked ahead at nothing, though his presence filled her periphery and invaded all of her senses. “Liar.”

  “I cannot lie, my bride.”

  Raquel had nearly forgotten this part about the Forest kith. She didn’t know if nature prevented them from lying or if it was something to do with magik. Perhaps both. Whatever the reason, this inability to lie had made the Forest kith infamous for twisting truth.

  “If Adina lives, then where is she?” Raquel asked.

  He leaned back an inch, but he was still too close. “I do not know. As I said: I’m not in the habit of getting attached.”

  “Then how do you know she’s alive?”

  “She was when last I saw her.”

  “Which was when, exactly?” Raquel dared to look back at him, determined to find the lie in his truth.

  He lifted his goblet to his lips and took a small, unconcerned sip. “Not long after my brother brought her into this cursed kingdom.”

  “Then she would’ve come home by now.”