30 UNDER MY SKIN

THE CHIEF-ENFORCER HALTED, his gaze raking over Bree.

Staring back at him, she swallowed a scream of frustration. Everywhere she turned, this whoreson was always there, thwarting her. How she longed to thrust a blade between his ribs.

Pushing down her rage, Bree sucked in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "That was a brief meeting, husband," she said, surprised at how calm she sounded .

His mouth pursed. "Fast but decisive … I'm riding out with my enforcers and a host of warriors at first light."

Bree went cold. Ancestors, what had he learned? "Is the High King going with you?"

"No, Prince Kennan has that privilege."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not telling you that, wife." Mac Brochan advanced on her then, yet unlike earlier, Bree didn't back away. "Such information is privileged. I wouldn't tell you, even if I trusted you … which I don't."

She held his eye, even as the blood roared in her ears. Kill him!

However, taking down two unsuspecting guards who had their backs to her was one thing—fighting the chief-enforcer and his fae hound was another. Bree had the wits to know when she was outmatched.

"We have much to discuss," he said then.

"Do we?" Bree put her hands on her hips and raised her chin.

"Aye … you were about to tell me how you really learned your fighting skills … and about what happened to your escort."

"I've already responded to both questions."

"You lied." He loomed over her now, his eyes stormy, a muscle working in his jaw. "I want the truth ."

"And if I don't give you the right answer?" she shot back, unable to stop herself from goading him now. "What will you do? Torture me?"

His mouth twisted. "That's our High King's pleasure, not mine."

Bree snorted. "Really? You mean you don't enjoy spilling a little blood … watching fear bloom in your victim's eyes?"

"When they truly vex me, aye," he growled back .

Heat pulsed in Bree's gut now. "And do I vex you?"

His gaze narrowed. "I know what you're doing, Fia … and it won't work."

"What am I doing?" She shoved him in the chest. Ancestors, it was like smacking a boulder.

"Trying to draw my attention from the matter at hand."

Snarling a curse, she lashed out at him then, aiming for his jaw. Aye, she was outmatched, but she could still do some damage.

Mac Brochan caught her wrist, and she struck at him with her other fist. He caught that one too, and she lunged toward him, bringing her knee up to drive it into his cods. However, moving at breathtaking speed, he spun her around and shoved her forward.

One moment they were standing in the center of the alcove, the next Bree found the front of her body flattened against the stone wall on the far side. Her husband held her fast, while his hands pinned her wrists at her sides.

Behind them, Skaal growled. The low, threatening rumble carried across the alcove.

"Brute," Bree gasped, struggling in his hold. It was impossible to budge him though. Curse it, she was so weak in this body.

"Aye." His breath whispered against her ear. "But this is the side of me you constantly try to provoke, isn't it?"

Heat pulsed traitorously low in her stomach at these words. Aye, this arrogant bastard sparked something wild inside her. She became keenly aware then of the hardness and warmth of the body pressed full length against hers.

"Let me go," she wheezed.

"Tell me who taught you to fight, and I might. "

"My father."

That wasn't a lie. Her father, one of Mor's best warriors, had taught her and Gil a few moves before they both had formal instructors. He'd been hard on them both too—his criticism harsh.

"And why would he do that?"

"It's how things are done in my family."

Mac Brochan leaned harder against her, his hold on her wrists tightening. "Try another, less flippant, answer."

Bree gasped, even as his heat, his scent made her senses reel. "I come from a line of warrior women," she eventually conceded. Again, it was the truth. "He wanted to continue the tradition."

"Is that another lie?" His hot breath caressed her neck.

"No." To Bree's horror, her answer had come out as a sigh. The Great Raven forgive her, this man's presence was overwhelming. Her eyes fluttered shut, and, unable to stop herself, she found herself softening her body and sinking back against him.

Moments passed, something shifting between them—a mutual awareness that couldn't be denied.

When the chief-enforcer spoke, his voice was strained. "Why do you get under my skin?"

"Because I challenge you," she whispered back. "And you like it."

Mac Brochan made a rough sound in the back of his throat, tension rippling through his big body.

An instant later, he spun her around to face him once more.

And then, his mouth crashed down upon hers .

The suddenness of it made her gasp, her body stiffening against his, before hunger snapped through her like a bullwhip, and her lips parted to receive him.

They kissed hungrily, violently, tongues tanging and teeth clashing.

Bree bit down on his lower lip and tasted blood.

Mac Brochan grunted a curse against her mouth, hauling her hard against him. Bree answered by wrapping her arms around his neck, her body melting into his as she soothed his lower lip with the tip of her tongue.

And in response, her husband tangled his hands through her hair and deepened the kiss. Bree couldn't help it—she moaned. His embrace was dominant; it utterly undid her.

She felt it then, the thick column of his arousal, straining against his breeches, and pressing into her belly—and the lust that had caught fire in her veins roared into an inferno.

Iron consume her, she needed this, needed him . It was wrong. It was dangerous. And yet at that moment, she didn't care.

Her hands slid down to the broad expanse of his chest, her fingers fumbling as she clawed at his vest. She had to get this off, had to touch his hot skin.

Breathing hard, he broke off the kiss and helped her, tearing off the leather vest and tossing it aside.

Bree lowered her gaze then, her mouth going dry at the sight of the magnificent bulge in his breeches. Suddenly, she ached to free his rod from its leather prison. The wild urge to sink to her knees before him, to take him deep into her mouth and listen to his groans fill the alcove, swept over her.

Sighing, she reached for the laces of his breeches, yet to her surprise, he brushed her hands aside. Before she could protest, he bent down, caught the skirt of her tunic, and lifted it, drawing the garment up and working it over the swell of her hips and bust, before pulling it over her head.

And when she stood before him, naked save her bronze arm ring, mac Brochan's gaze devoured her. His lips parted, and his blue eyes darkened to black.

A faint flush had risen to his cheekbones, and his gaze glittered with such hunger that dizziness swept over Bree. No one had ever looked at her like that. He gazed upon her as if she were The Maiden herself.

Whispering an oath under his breath, mac Brochan yanked her into his arms again, his mouth capturing hers for another hot, greedy kiss. His tongue stroked hers with a sensual determination that made Bree writhe against him, while his big hands claimed her body. The feel of his callouses against her smooth skin, the heat of him that enveloped her like a furnace, made it difficult for her to form a coherent thought.

She was greedy for him too. For this brief moment in time, the heat between them incinerated the lie she'd woven.

Tearing his mouth from hers, her husband sank down before her, his palms sliding across the sensitive skin of her breasts as he lifted and pushed them together. He then bent his head and drew a nipple deep into the hot cavern of his mouth.

Bree gasped, wet heat pulsing between her thighs. Reaching up, she slid her fingers through his short hair, pushing him against her, demanding more. And he delivered, sucking hard enough to make her sag against him. And then, when that nipple was swollen and aching, he shifted his attention to its twin.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she let her head settle back against the rough stone wall, giving herself up to sensation .

Meanwhile, his hands continued their exploration of her body, and when they parted her trembling thighs and slid between them, her gasp filled the alcove.

A groan rumbled in his throat, and he ripped his mouth from her breast. "Fuck … you're so wet."

Bree whimpered. There was no denying it.

Stroking her with a tenderness that made an ache rise in her chest, he then spread her legs wide, hooking one over his shoulder so that he exposed the tender skin between her thighs to him.

The warmth of his breath feathered over her most intimate place, and Bree steadied herself against the wall with her hands, her fingertips digging into the stone. And just as well too, for an instant later, his mouth found her—and as his tongue flicked, lapped, and circled, Bree bit down on her bottom lip. Pleasure coiled and pulsed between her thighs.

His grip on Bree tightened, and he opened her wider, lifting her against his mouth. Shades, he was relentless, pleasuring her as if it were his life's purpose. She couldn't believe they were doing this—and that nothing had ever felt so right. And if his questing tongue wasn't enough to drive her insane, he sucked her as he had her breasts, before grazing the sensitive pearl of flesh nestled within the petals of her sex with his teeth.

Bree choked back a cry, molten pleasure flooding and twisting through her lower belly and loins as she bucked uncontrollably against him. He continued to lick and suck her through her climax, until she sagged against him, panting.

Breathing hard, mac Brochan released her and climbed to his feet. And as he did, their gazes met once more. The intimacy of the moment made the ache rising under her breastbone intensify. It was too intense to look at him like this, to stare into the depths of his woad-blue eyes and see her own hunger reflected back at her.

Still struggling to catch her breath, she lowered her gaze, taking in every hard-muscled inch of him until her attention settled upon the huge bulge in his breeches.

Whispering an oath, she reached between them with unsteady hands and stroked the length of it, and when mac Brochan groaned, stepping back so she could touch him properly, hunger clenched low in her belly. Without stopping to consider her actions, she sank down before him and unlaced his breeches.

And this time, he didn't stop her.