Chapter Twelve: Our Wedding Night

We had a staring contest as he slowly stalked towards me. I was reminded of those predators in the wild that I’d seen several times on the National Geographic channel.

Still holding his gaze, I rose from the chair at the dresser, needing to put some distance between us.

I was more afraid of the reactions going on in my body at that moment.

His footfalls created steady thuds on the polished wooden floor as he advanced towards me.

“Um, hi,” my voice came out as a squeak as I retreated slowly.

“We uh, I don’t think…We—we haven’t been introduced properly, which is wild since we um, just got married,” I rambled, trying for a casual smile, but it came out wobbly.

He said nothing, just kept advancing. His expression was inscrutable. But his eyes sparkled with what I could only suspect was challenge. His aura was dark and oozed pure male power.

I was suddenly, acutely aware of approximately everything at once. The lightness of my chemise. The looseness of my hair. The coolness of the ring on my finger and the wolf at my throat. The fact that I was alone in a room with him for the first time, with no congregation or banquet table of strangers to distribute the attention across.

I retreated until my back hit something hard and solid. The wall. There was nowhere else to go. Except sideways and backwards, that is. And so I did.

He kept following me, and we did a little strange dance that ended with us back at the dresser.

Shit.

His eyes glinted with something that might have been amusement, but I had no way of telling because even though we’d just gotten married, we were practically strangers. I capitalized on that thought to try for a conversation, at least.

“I’m—I’m Sigrun. W-what’s your name?”

The back of my thighs brushed against something behind me. The arm of the dresser’s chair. He reached out to pull out the chair from behind me, and it was all I could do to stop myself from flinching. I heard the scrape of wood against wood. Then—

“Sit," he commanded softly. His low voice reverberated across the room. It was rough and edged with something addictive because right then, my feet turned to jelly. I’ve never been one to bend to male authority, but this time I did.

Oh my God, is this foreplay? I thought. Because if it is, it’s working.

He shrugged off the dark coat from his shoulders and draped it on the dressing table. The shirt he was wearing underneath was black and open at the collar. I caught a glimpse of a silver necklace, but the pendant disappeared into his shirt. I had a feeling it was similar to the one I was wearing.

Somehow, I found the thought of that sexy, husband and wife wearing identical pieces of jewelry.

I swallowed and tried to slow the thumping of my heart.

He braced both hands on either arms of my chair and leaned into me. I was trapped in the heady mix of his scent and his eyes. This close, I could make the dark rings of his irises, his long, thick eyelashes, the Cupid’s bow of his upper lip, and the day-old stubble shadowing his jaw. He really was beautiful.

He let go of one chair arm to caress a stray lock of my hair between his thumb and forefinger. His forefinger brushed softly against my cheek. Then he cupped my chin gently, raising it to get a better look at my face. He leaned forward ever so slowly. My lips parted of their own volition. His eyes dropped to my lips. When they came back up to my eyes, they were much darker.

Thump. Thump. Thump. My heart thudded painfully against my chest. I tried to think of the plethora of reasons why I shouldn’t be reacting to him this way, but my brain came up with nothing.

His cool breath brushed against my lips.

“Are you afraid of me, Sigrun?” He asked, his voice low and velvety. It was the first time he’d ever said my name. It was a crime, how beautiful my name sounded on his lips.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, but I did anyway. Raising my chin defiantly, I answered, “N-no.”

He chuckled darkly. Then he wrapped his hand around my throat, the pads of his fingers pressing gently at the sides. His knuckle rings were cool against my hot skin. I was suddenly lightheaded. Just when I thought I would pass out from either fear, excitement, or both, his hand left my throat.

His fingers brushed over the silver link around my neck and the wolf pendant resting on my chemise, between my breasts. My nipples puckered painfully, rubbing against the cotton chemise. He stared down at the peak points with a low hum. Liquid pooled between my legs.

I was helpless to stop the needy moan that came out of my lips. I couldn’t remember a time when I was this turned on. I felt as though I could combust, which was wild because he was a total stranger—and he had barely even touched me, for goodness sake.

He chuckled, a low and dangerous sound, fully aware of the wicked things he was doing to my body. He leaned into my neck, breathed in my scent, and whispered into my ear, “You should be, Princess.”

Then his teeth grazed my pulse just the same time that his hand cupped my breast and his fingers rolled the sensitive nipple.

That was all it took.

My back arched off the chair, my fingers gripping the armrests as a white-hot sensation shot up my spine. And before I could think to stop it or be embarrassed by it, I cried out loud and came explosively. Sparks flashed behind my eyes.

When I came to, I was breathing hard. My surroundings slowly came into focus. Varul was watching me with a roguish twinkle in his eyes. After a few moments, he straightened up slowly, but not before promising in that dangerous tone of his:

"I am going to enjoy playing with you, Princess."