“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she threatens. “You wouldn’t want the media to hear all about how you beat your future wife, would you?”
“You’ll never be my wife.” I shove her back, and a venomous haze clouds over her eyes.
“On the contrary, I think I will. You see, Thorsen, there’s a benefit to being at the palace. You could only imagine all the things I overhear. Conversations between your parents. The pillow talk between your father and my mother. There are so many details I’ve become privy to. Details I’m sure you wouldn’t want getting out.”
I know I shouldn’t, but I take the bait. “Such as?”
“Such as your psychological problems and your little visits with a certain Dr. Blom. Does that ring a bell?”
I can feel the blood draining from my face as she closes in on me like an insect trapped in her web. She couldn’t know. There’s no way my father would bring it up after all these years. I don’t want to believe it, but Lavinia isn’t even close to done.
“It’s funny, you know.” She holds her hand out to examine the ring on her finger with a smile only a psychopath could wear. “The way your father tells it, you came crying to him about a woman teaching you how to be a man. He said you should be so lucky to have a hot woman like that. Did you have any idea that for a good ten years, he didn’t think you could even figure out how to use your dick? Until that girlfriend of yours came along. What was her name again? Anja something or other?”
“Fuck you.” I drag the bottle of akevitt from my jacket and take four drinks.
“I don’t really care about your problems.” She leans back into the seat with an easiness that betrays how confident she is that she’s won. “I just want the title. You don’t have to fuck me. You don’t even have to like me. You just have to marry me, or else I’m going to blab to the whole fucking world. And when I’m finished, your reputation will forever be cemented as the most fucked-up man in Norway.”
“You think you’ve got it all figured out.” I take another swig from the bottle as the driver pulls to a stop at the entrance of the palace.
“You’ll cave.” Lavinia lifts her chin. “It’s just a matter of time.”
She reaches for the door, and I lurch over her, snatching her hand.
“What the hell are you doing?” she screeches.
“Give me my mother’s ring,” I bellow into her face. “Or so help me, I will break every one of your goddamn fingers to get it off.”
Her bravery fractures, and she looks at the driver, but he’s following my orders, ignoring us until I alert him otherwise.
“There’s nobody to save you here.” I slide the ring off her bony finger and pocket it. “Perhaps you should consider that before you start making plans to walk down the aisle.”
“I will ruin you!” she shouts in my face. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“And you have no idea what I’m capable of.” I open the door and shove her out. “But test me again, and you’ll find out.”
My sweet little fire-breathing goddess is asleep in my bed when I get home. When I pull back the covers, she stirs, blinking up at me with sleepy eyes. And then she smiles, ruining everything.
I came here to punish her. The entire way home, visions of me beating her ass red were the only thing tempering the rage in my soul. I wanted to hate fuck her and torment her and make all the blackness go away. But now, she’s so content to be in my presence that I can’t bring myself to do it. This isn’t what I brought her here for. She isn’t supposed to look at me that way, and I’m not supposed to feel… like this.
I’m intoxicated, but it isn’t the alcohol in my veins that’s left me so off-balance. Heat crawls up my spine, threatening to choke off my airway. How dare she do this to me? How dare she make me feel?
“Thorsen?” she whispers. “Are you coming to bed?”
Are you coming to bed?
Does she really think she’s domesticated me? And worse yet, why haven’t I told her no? Why haven’t I told her she should be in her own room, in her own bed?
“Go back to sleep,” I growl, stumbling for the door. “And leave me the hell alone.”
26
Ella
Something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones.
Calder’s words from earlier come back to mind. He’s going to push you away. He’ll push everyone away.
I can’t let that happen. I’m too deep in it already, swimming in feelings more expansive than an ocean. Maybe that makes me sick in the head, but there are only two options right now. Let Thorsen’s demons win, proving that he’s alone in this world, or show him that no matter what he does, there will always be someone who cares, whether he likes it or not.
I drag my tired body up from the bed, wrapping the silk robe around me and knotting it at the waist. The first place I check is his office, but he isn’t there. When that fails me, I wander around the house like a ghost, haunted by the fear in my heart.
Nerium Oleander.
I know the bottles are still in my bag because I pulled them out this afternoon while he was away. But there’s still a sense of desperation clawing at me as I search the house, turning up nothing. Where is he?
The mantra plays on repeat in my mind while I stand in the middle of the kitchen and close my eyes, listening for a sound. Any sound. But all I hear is the lapping of water against the shore outside.
Outside.
I head for the terrace, opening the French doors, and when I find him sitting there bathed in the moonlight, I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved. He looks just as tormented as I feel, his profile staring up at the star-littered sky.
Wordlessly, I crawl onto his lap and grip his face between my hands, finding the confirmation I need in his hazy eyes. He’s drunk and emotional. But when I bring his head to rest against my beating heart, he doesn’t protest.
“Thor.” I kiss his forehead and comb through his hair with my fingers. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His fingers curl into my robe, holding me hostage as I comfort him the only way I know how. Touching him softly, I kiss his face with a reverence I truly feel. Even in his darkest moments or his cruelest, he leaves me spellbound, and I don’t think he has any idea. But I want him to.
“Min Gud,” I murmur into his ear, using the phrase I learned on Google today. If I am his goddess, then he is most certainly my god.
“Ella.” He holds me in a bruising grip. “Don’t ever leave me.”
“Don’t make me,” I whisper.
He reaches up to cup the back of my skull, forcing my lips to his. He tastes of akevitt and fire, and I’m feverish, working to undo his pants while he parts my robe and shoves the material aside. A frenetic, desperate hunger swirls between us as we come together, and I sink down onto his cock. Thorsen groans into my neck, and I force his head back, so he has to look at me.
When our eyes collide, there’s no other way to describe it. It’s a clash of thunder. A coup de foudre. Electricity crackles in the air between us, and my heart soars. It’s intimate, and it’s raw and more powerful than any reckoning Mother Nature herself could stir up.