And now? Now he had a choice to make. He could keep sparring with her until one of them made a mistake. Nadine would be damned if it was her. Or he could finish this.
He had her by the wrists and her hair. The tension screamed in every strand of her braids and every cord of her muscles. His body was shoved up into her back, and surely he would try to settle her on the altar as he had a dozen times before.
The fool.
He should have known by now that Nadine was too flexible and quick to allow herself to be pinned like this while he scrambled on after her. Still she should never have allowed herself to be caught. Not that it mattered. Because just as she’d suspected before they’d begun this little game, the barbarian was all talk.
He didn’t respect her. Didn’t see her as an equal match. If he had wanted to use all his advantages against her, Nadine knew, with her worsening condition, she’d be lanced. Yet he would never use his strength against her. Wouldn’t risk hurting her for fear that she would break, whimper, and pout. That she’d hold it against him like a sniveling child who was too ignorant to understand the rules of what she’d agreed to. He was exactly what she’d expected.
Nadine had never been more disappointed.
Still, she couldn’t deny the overwhelming swell of lust burning beneath her flesh. Blood lust. “Go to hell.”
He sighed against her neck and she squelched the urge to shiver. His body tightened behind hers, and once more she was shoved forward. Time to continue the dance. Nadine gritted her teeth and sucked in a breath. She drew a knee upward to brace her foot against the edge of the altar.
Magnus stepped around her and blocked her raised knee with one of his legs swung around hers. Before she could react, his arm slipped down from her chest only to pull in at her waist as the arm tangled in her hair rammed her forward. Nadine’s face smacked into the black surface of the altar.
Her vision went white.
She was bent in half with the barbarian curled around her like a great bear mauling its kill. Only he didn’t maul her. Nadine squeezed her eyes shut and hissed through her teeth as she tried to make the stars clear. She was being dragged. Her surroundings spun and went bright. Magnus had flipped her over.
She stared up at the cave’s pockmarked ceiling, the winding branches of that old tree blocking out the streams of light which intruded through the holes. At the center of all of it appeared a wild-faced barbarian who stared down at her with steely-eyed determination.
No more begging from him.
Nadine threw a palm up toward his chin. He caught it and shoved it back down to the altar. She strained to do the same with her other hand, but it was already caught beneath his knee. He straddled her. Nadine bucked. “Get off me!”
It was over. He didn’t need to say it.
He looked her in the eye, and his mouth flattened. He reached back to the belt of his pants and, with his free hand, unsheathed his ivory-hilted dagger.
Nadine hissed. Her head ached. Warmth seeped into her hairline. Blood. She must’ve been bleeding. She was about to be bleeding some more. The barbarian’s weight was settled somewhere between her chest and belly. She tried to kick at him, but she couldn’t get enough momentum. The man covered her nearly down to her thighs. He was a damn giant.
She struggled to get her arms free, but that was useless as well. When she thought she might be able to slip through, he dug his knees harder into her forearm. Yudvir, that hurt like the sun. It was going to bruise.
His hand moved for the top of her tunic. She tried to bite him, and he flicked her in the forehead.
“Stop that,” he rumbled.
She didn’t. But it didn’t matter. He made short work of the thing and had her top down in the blink of an eye. Nadine’s flesh burned as his eyes perused her body. Nadine wasn’t a modest woman, but she’d also never been lying at a man’s mercy as he hovered over her naked form with a knife. She didn’t know whether to be furious, terrified, or thrilled.
His eyes met hers. “Be still while I do this, woman.”
If possible, Nadine fought harder. Magnus sighed, but it was hard to see amidst the heaviness of his breathing. He shoved his forearm against her shoulders to flatten her, and with his other hand, he began his task.
Nadine hissed at the sting of the knife as it carved into the flesh above her heart. There was little she could do to move, yet the sweat beaded on Magnus’s brow along with his squinting eyes told her he was struggling to do his job.
He hunched low over her until they were nearly close enough to kiss, his gaze fixed on his task, his hair hanging around their faces like a curtain that held the heat of their shallow breaths in an intimate fog. Nadine almost considered forcing her body to relax, if only to take the arch out of her spine which, in that moment, even she couldn’t be sure was purely combative.
This barbarian was feral. He’d lived up to his people’s reputation. A total brute. A man bent on having what he desired and willing to get it at any cost.
She’d learned something else today too.
Magnus the Vast was not afraid to hurt her. He wasn’t afraid to fight her, or to lose to her. Most importantly, he was strong enough to win on her terms. Despite herself, the knowledge counted for something.
When Magnus finally drew away, he looked more exhausted from the act of putting his mark on her than he had the entire past hour of sparring with her. He was shaking. Sweat rolled off his hunched shoulders. With a grunt, he tossed the knife somewhere off the back of the altar, well out of Nadine’s reach. Smarter than he looked.
He sat back on his heels, still straddling her, and met her eyes for the first time since putting the blade to her flesh. There was pain in his expression, but not a glimmer of regret. This was a real man.
Nadine stared up at him. She was still now, though not at ease. She lay stiffly under him, waiting to be released. Her breasts remained exposed, and her blood was drying on them. She raised a single brow.
Magnus shook his head once. “It didn’t have to be like that.”
“Yes, barbarian. That’s exactly how it had to be.”
Magnus blinked. Then, with a heavy sigh, he removed himself from her. She might as well have been lying beneath a bison. She sucked in a breath and filled her lungs with the merciful coolness of the air, then threw herself upward and swung her legs off the altar to stand. She marched toward the pack Magnus had brought.
“Where are you going?” Magnus called from behind.
“To clean up this mess.”
“I’ll help you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can manage.”
She rummaged through his things, taking no care to keep them tidy. She could feel him hovering over her shoulder, wanting to interject but wisely keeping his mouth shut until she found what she was looking for. Several strips of cloth. She pulled them out. “One would think you’d have had these ready.”
Magnus swallowed. “That didn’t exactly go the way I’d imagined.”
“No doubt you imagined carrying a weeping woman to the altar and listening to her begging for mercy.” She took the rags toward the water. Magnus caught her by the arm. Nadine whipped around to glare at him.
“Not there.” He knelt to the pack and pulled out an animal skin. “That water’s sacred. Use this.”
Nadine sighed loudly and took the flask. “Just tell me one thing, savage. Do you feel any better now that you’ve got your name carved into my flesh? Do you think you own me now?”