Bound to the Warrior King. Maisey Yates

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       CHAPTER FOUR

      OLIVIA WAS TEMPTED to break into her antianxiety medication before meeting Tarek in his office. But no, she needed to save those for full-on panic attacks. Which, fortunately, only happened when she was boarding planes these days. She should have had one when confronted by a naked man with a sword. But panic had not been the dominant emotion.

      She squared her shoulders and raised her fist to knock on his office door. She wasn’t going to dwell. Not on the conflicting, heated feelings that had gone coursing through her veins when she’d seen him out in the corridor last night. Naked, tortured.

      She was sick to focus on his nudity. She didn’t know the man. He obviously had a great many issues. He seemed scarcely more than a feral beast.

       You came prepared to marry him.

      True. Which made his naked body very much pertinent to her and her interests. The idea behind marriage, after all, was for him to produce an heir.

      She didn’t consider sex a negative. It was part of marriage, as far as she was concerned. Not an unpleasant part. She’d never been under any illusion that this marriage agreement would mean celibacy. And in the two years since Marcus’s death she had, indeed, been celibate.

      She knocked, ruthlessly cutting off her line of thought.

      So many things were innocuous in theory and much more daunting in practice. Tarek, his body and what she felt on the subject, was one of those things.

      “Enter.” She heard his voice through the door.

      She pushed the door open and shut it behind her, the breath rushing from her lungs at the sight of him standing in front of his desk with the posture of a soldier, hands clasped behind his back. There was no bracing for the impact of Tarek. She just needed to recognize that now and move on.

      “I have entered,” she said, waving a hand. “Now to get down to business.”

      “I am happy to take direction from you when it comes to matters of my civilization. However, that does not mean you will be assuming total control of my daily life.”

      “Only for the next twenty-nine days.”

      He chuckled, an entirely humorous sound that chilled her. “No. If you are to be my wife, then we must start as we mean to go on. I do not know how your previous marriage was conducted. However, should you become my wife, you must be aware of this one thing—you will not be my minder.”

      “I didn’t think I would be,” she said, her stomach tightening painfully. “And the subject of my first marriage is off-limits.”

      “You spoke of your husband only this morning.”

      She sniffed. “It’s different if I broach the subject.”

      “Are all women so difficult?” he asked.

      “Only when dealing with impossible men.”

      His black gaze was impassive. “Then, this should be interesting.”

      “That’s one word for it. I assume that somewhere in the palace you have the proper tools to take care of your facial-hair situation.”

      “I’m not certain. We could find out.” He walked over to the door of the office, swung it open and took one step out into the corridor. And then he shouted. Possibly the name of a servant, or just the demand, she wasn’t certain.

      “What are you doing?”

      “I am investigating the presence of a razor. Is that not what you wanted?”

      “I assume you have a telephone on your desk. One that might reach servants in a more direct manner than bellowing like an animal.”

      “I did not consider that.” He straightened and stepped away from the door, closing it behind him. Then he walked over to the desk, gazing at the phone situated there.

      “Do you know how the phone works?”

      “I have used it,” he said, his tone clipped.

      “Better idea. We go to your bathroom. I’m certain we’ll be able to find something.”

      “I suppose.” He didn’t sound convinced.

      “Follow me.”

      She headed toward the door and felt no sense of movement behind her. She paused. “Are you coming?”

      Rather than sensing any movement, she felt his heat behind her, his breath warm on her neck. The proximity, his warmth, burned through her with the ferocity of a spark on dry tinder. “I am not a dog to be brought to heel. Make no mistake, my queen, I am not your pet. You are not training me for your enjoyment. I will do what I must to fulfill the needs of my country. But no matter the trappings I am wrapped in, the man beneath will remain the same. I am not a good man. I’m not a bad man. I am simply a man who does what is necessary. You will do well to remember that.”

      She felt the loss of his presence like a physical blow, and she froze for a moment, gasping for breath. In that moment, he moved ahead of her, striding out of the office without waiting. She fortified herself, blinking rapidly, trying to gain control as she went after his retreating figure.

      He blazed a path through the palace, leading them both back to the wing that contained their bedrooms. He flung open the doors to his suite wide and she followed dutifully.

       I’m not a dog to be brought to heel.

      Well, neither was she.

      She thought her quarters were quite grand. His surpassed anything she had ever seen before. She had been a guest at many palaces during her tenure as queen of Alansund. They all paled beneath the shimmer of the palace in Tahar.

      Tarek’s СКАЧАТЬ