Chapter 11: Unmarked

Torin did not speak until the door of his room had shut behind us.

Then he stood with his back to me and both hands braced on the stone mantel, and I watched his shoulders heave.

"Torin."

"I nearly shifted in the hall," he said hoarsely. "Two hundred people. I nearly tore him apart."

"You didn't."

"I wanted to. I wanted it so much that I could taste it."

He turned. His eyes were still gold.

"That is what they say I am, Ylva. That is the thing in the rumors."

"I saw a man tell a coward to keep his hand to himself."

"You saw me lose control."

"I saw a man who held a pass for nine days, and held his temper for three minutes," I said.

"I've seen a great deal worse at the Lowmere dinner table, and nobody there even raised their voice."

His laugh was short and ragged.

I crossed the room and put my palms on his chest, and he stood still and let me.

His heart was going like a hammer.

"I'll end it properly," he said. "Give me the mark. Today. If you're bitten, the exchange can never be called again."

"No."

His eyebrows drew together.

"I want the mark," I said. "I know that already."

"But I won't be bitten because Gudrun made a speech, or because it's useful."

"When I ask you for it, it'll be because I want it, and nobody will have pushed me to it."

He stared at me.

"They've pushed me my whole life," I said, more softly. "I'd like one thing to be mine."

Something shifted in his face.

He lifted one hand and cupped my jaw, and his thumb brushed my lower lip.

"Then you'll have it when you want it," he said. "And not a day before."

"Good."

"And until then?"

"Until then," I said, "I'd like you to stop standing so far away."

He kissed me.

It was slow this time, and deep, and when it ended he dropped to his knees in front of me.

I looked down at the War God of Hartfell, kneeling on the stone with his hands sliding up the backs of my legs.

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