Chapter 20

Ronan led me to a large but sparsely furnished bedchamber decorated in shades of dark blue. I trailed him, gazing around as he went to a sideboard against the wall and poured amber-colored liquid into two glasses.

"Big room," I said. "You took over Haluven's chamber?"

He answered without turning around. "No."

I studied his back, taking in his long sheet of white hair. The top half was pulled back and woven into his typical fussy braid. "You didn't have time to move in yet? Or you don't intend to."

Ronan faced me with a drink in his hand. "I've used this chamber for years."

"That's not what I asked."

He sipped his drink, his stare stony over the rim of the glass.

I wandered to the sideboard, picked up the other glass, and sniffed it. "Elvish spirits? Will I be stuck in Ishulum if I drink this?" I tossed the entire glass back in one go. The alcohol burned a fiery path to my gut. A second later, the burn became a soothing glow, warming me from the inside as if I'd swallowed a bit of sunlight. "Forgot," I said, slamming the glass onto the sideboard. "I'm already stuck here."

Ronan's fingers tightened on his glass. "You entered into this arrangement of your own free will. You've siphoned power from me for a decade, using it for your own purposes, and yet you persist in playing the victim."

A bark of sarcastic laughter burst from me. "Are you serious? What was my alternative, Ronan? Maybe you should run back to Liria and tell her." I glanced at the door. "Or I will."

He blurred, placing the glass on the sideboard and then blocking my path to the door in one smooth movement. "Do it," he rasped, "and you'll never get an ounce of power from me again."

Anger flared as I stepped toward him. "As if you were going to give me any to begin with. You like it when I fail."

"You're right, Sigurn. I'm thoroughly invested in Nordlinga's petty, unending uprisings. Next time you're in Ishulum, do bring a battle map. I'm dying to see it."

"Was that supposed to be sarcasm?" I waved a hand. "Sorry to ask, it's just that you're so bad at humor, I couldn't tell."

His eyes flashed. "The only joke here is you thinking I ration power because I take pleasure in your defeat. I assure you, I do not."

"Oh yes, you fucking do. You're stingy with power because it keeps me dependent on you." I was close enough now to touch him, and I flicked a lock of hair off his shoulder.

Another blurry movement, and he caught my wrist. "Don't fucking touch me."

I twisted from his grip, then grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. From the way his eyes widened, I'd surprised him with my speed. "That's not what you want at all, though, is it?" I demanded, lust spiking in tandem with my anger. One fueled the other, forming a loop that fed upon itself, spinning faster and faster. "You love lying to yourself, don't you, Ronan?"

He glared up at me, his eyes two narrow, icy slits. "Get your hands off me."

I dug my fingers into his perfect braid, taking care to do as much damage as possible. "Curious how you told Liria we never plan to fuck, and yet every time I visit Tur Dorna I find you…prepared for me."

His throat worked as he swallowed. "I won't tell you again."

"Always ready. And so very accommodating."

"RELEASE ME,"he said, the command booming inside my skull as it bounced off the chamber's walls. His magic wrapped around my wrist and forced my hand to my side. Another band of power whipped around my chest and squeezed.

Ronan stepped back, his eyes blazing. Magic seethed under his skin, lighting up the edges of the dreadravens that poked from under his collar. His expression was as unforgiving as the power he wielded. Otherworldly beautiful, he looked as sharp and frigid as the sword he loved so much.

I knew better.

He hadn't shut my mouth—and he wouldn't. His magic rooted me in place, but he'd left me with my most formidable weapon. I didn't hesitate to use it.

"Admit it," I taunted. "You won't let me leave because you're spoiling for a tumble."

"Shut up."

"Why don't you go bend over that big bed over there and I'll give you what you want. Or I can put you on your hands and knees and open you up the way you like."

"I said shut up." He muttered a foreign, sibilant elvish word under his breath as he stalked toward me. The band around my chest vanished, and I stumbled backward. I tripped, recovered, and grabbed his shoulders.

He grabbed me at the same moment, and we crashed together in a tangle of curses and tongues. I seized control, thrusting my tongue hard against his. He grunted and dug his fingers into my bicep. Using some of his considerable strength, he yanked us sideways, throwing me off balance and giving himself enough leverage to walk me swiftly backward. We kissed as we staggered, dueling in our usual combative fashion. Sex between us was always this way—an argument that turned into a physical battle that turned into a different kind of physical battle.

Ronan seized my shoulders, his hips bumping mine as he deepened our kiss. I braced to feel the bed hit the backs of my legs. Instead, Ronan shoved me away from him, breaking off the kiss and leaving me reeling long enough to hit me with another command.

"Get on your knees."

Magic punched me in the chest, forcing me back another step before settling on my shoulders. It sat like a rock between my shoulder blades, weighing me down. As I struggled to resist, the weight grew heavier. After another second, it was too heavy to fight.

Glaring, I sank to the ground. "You promised you would never order me to serve you." Not like this. Never like this. Always, it had been an unspoken rule between us. Ronan could make me do anything in Ishulum. But he'd never crossed this particular line.

He stepped forward and cupped my jaw. His sensual lips parted, and a shaky breath betrayed him as he gazed down at me with raw lust in his eyes. "Sweet Sigurn, it's not an order when you want to do it."

My cock, which had been semi-hard since I ran my gaze down his hair, pressed painfully against the front of my pants. My heart pounded, each beat pulsing in my shaft.

"Take my dick out," he said softly.

There was no magic behind the command. He simply waited, his gaze locked with mine. Familiar, addictive tension stretched between us.

And it was addictive. I'd fought it in the beginning. Young and green as a wobbly colt, I'd rushed from the presence of the prickly, intimidating elven lord before I could embarrass myself. Safely across the Covenant, I'd found willing maids and spent long evenings between their thighs, reassuring myself that curves and soft skin satisfied my desires. They did—and the longer I spent in Nordlinga, the easier it was to forget the confusing, unwelcome feelings that plagued me whenever I bantered with Ronan Morendiel.

But the need for power always carried me back to Ishulum. Eventually, something more than a lust for magic drew me across the Covenant. My confusion turned to resentment. Resentment boiled into arguments. The rafters of Tur Dorna rang with angry shouts. And then one night, Ronan and I stumbled into something I'd never truly understood. If I had to guess, he didn't, either. We never spoke of it. He'd been truthful enough when he told Liria our couplings didn't occur with any regularity. We met only when we needed the things we could only get from each other.

And now Liria had come between us. I'd stopped believing in gods around the hundredth time I watched knights pile dead bodies on a pyre after a battle. But if I were a religious man, I might have believed some mischievous god had a hand in maneuvering a boar into Liria's path the same night I stood at the Covenant debating whether I wanted to seek Ronan out and tell him I was finished being bound.

"Go on," he said now, his fingers cool against my hot cheek.

More heat blasted me as I reached up and unfastened his pants. I did it without breaking his stare. Because I didn't need to look at what I was doing. I did it from memory, tugging the leather open and freeing his cock. It bobbed, thick and heavy, before my face. The smooth, round head brushed my lips.

I didn't think. Just dabbed my tongue over the slit, tasting salt and magic.

"Fuck," I breathed, sucking the taste to the back of my throat.

Ronan eased his hips forward, letting his cockhead brush my cheek. "Go ahead and suck. You know you want to."

"You're an asshole."

"I know." He nudged his cockhead against my lips, wetting them with his arousal. "Make me regret it."

With another muttered curse, I closed my lips around his tip. Lust fogged my senses as I held his stare and took him deeper, sliding my tongue along the underside of his shaft. More salty moisture seeped from him, and I swallowed it eagerly.

He clenched his jaw, but it wasn't enough to contain his groan. The sound broke from him as he slid his fingers into my hair and rolled his hips slowly, feeding me more of his cock.

I reached both hands up and gripped his ass. I tugged his pants down a bit, then kneaded the firm muscle and pulled his cheeks apart. His eyes slid shut as I used my grip to guide him deeper. When his cockhead nudged the back of my throat, I stilled. After a few slow, deep breaths, I swallowed carefully, letting my throat close around Ronan's dick.

His eyes flew open, and he stared down at me, his jaw slack and his breath coming in tattered gasps. He clamped a hand on my shoulder as I held position and breathed through my nose.

"Look at you," he said. "You love this. You love sucking my cock."

Maybe I should have pulled away. In earlier years, I might have. But he and I were long past the point of pretense. He knew damn well what I liked.

I liked unraveling him. Messing him up and making him lose control. And he liked it, and he hated that he liked it.

I liked that, too. His torment. The battle in his eyes as he fought his desires and ultimately gave up.

The floorboards dug into my knees, but I barely registered the discomfort as I eased off his dick. My eyes watered, and I released my grip on his ass long enough to swipe the drool from my chin. Then I began to suck him in earnest, bobbing my head and swirling my tongue over his shaft.

"Fuck," he gasped, tipping his head back and bucking his hips. "Fuck."

My own cock throbbed as I hummed around his dick. One hand on his ass, I used the other to cup his balls before sliding a finger to the sensitive skin between his sack and his hole. He hissed in a breath and thrust harder, his cock swelling in my mouth.

Yes.I hummed again, knowing the vibrations would drive him crazy. I wanted him to sweat—to tremble and beg until he was shaking with the need to come. I sucked him harder, hollowing my cheeks as I swallowed his shaft over and over, taking him to the back of my throat. More shots of precome spurted over my tongue. His fingers dug into my shoulder, his grip as punishing as the floor under my knees.

But his broken moans and helpless grunts erased the pain. Mutual desire flowed between us as he jerked his hips, thrusting his dick in and out of my mouth.

I pressed two fingers against his taint, seeking the spot guaranteed to break him to my will.

"Yes!" He bucked harder, the muscles in his thighs straining. His balls were tight and heavy as they swayed against my wrist.

Then, without warning, he staggered back, pulling his dick from my mouth. The sudden movement left me flailing, and I pitched forward and caught myself with one hand on the floor.

"What the fuck?" I demanded, confusion and anger swirling.

Ronan grabbed his wet, bobbing dick. Jaw tight, he looked toward a spot on the wall.

I followed his gaze, my confusion growing. But as Ronan and I looked at each other again, awareness crept down my spine.

Ronan winced as he tucked his cock into his pants. Then he raised his voice. "Don't just watch, Princess. Come in here."