Bending Steele (2 page)

He wouldn’t.

Hexe had watched her long enough. He’d tried
on every occasion he’d had to get to know her, but out here, she
was in control. Always, always in control. He needed to find a way
to get her off balance, to get her to let him in.

“I hope you have a good reason for this.”
Steele’s eyes narrowed and suddenly they looked tinged with frost.
“I hate to kill Kings.”

Hexe bit back a smile. There it was. The
bluff. But backing down would get him nothing. Nothing would
change.

“I have my reasons.” Hexe kept his voice low,
the rough baritone dark. He took a step closer to her, watched the
muscle in her jaw flex, but there was a flash of confusion in her
eyes too. Her thumb slid over the handle of her blade. Her eyes met
his and he saw the furious plea. She wanted him to back down. Hexe
lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Whether or not you’ll find them
‘good’ is another thing.”

Another step.

“Try me.”

Hexe shook his head. Not now. Not in front of
everyone. Not when he could still see the icy resolve around her.
She was giving him an out, but she really didn’t care. Then again,
it was hard to picture her ever caring, ever relaxing, with her
long black hair tugged out of her hip-length braid and hanging
loose in waves about her face. He doubted she’d believe him if he
told her that was the reason. He needed a Queen, an equal at his
side. A partner. But more than that, he wanted to see if the
flashes of the softer woman he saw in her eyes, the glimpses of
vulnerability and compassion, were real.

There was no denying she was beautiful,
strong. A warrior. It was hard to picture her without a knife in
her small hand. Yet somehow, when she slipped into his thoughts at
night, dark and deadly as sin, he wanted to taste her. To press her
back against a rocky wall and slip the zipper on her parka down. He
knew she was lean, slender. Toned. Every bit the warrior he was. He
doubted she’d be soft and yet, his gaze slipped to the hollow of
her throat.

What would she do if he kissed her there?

Hexe took another step and Steele stiffened.
Her blade made one last swirl over her palm before her fingers
closed confidently over the handle. The tribe had gone quiet behind
him, whatever squabbles they had over Marked females, or flirts
that had just begun—it had all died away. Hexe hesitated a moment.
If there was anyone here that could kill him and strip him from his
throne, it was the woman in front of him, her gunmetal gray eyes
the color of frost now.

He’d watched her fight once before. She
fought clean, fast, and deadly. Every bit as skilled as he was.
Hexe let his muscles tense, ready. When he came at her, he couldn’t
be soft because Steele wouldn’t give him a second shot.

But he didn’t pull his blade.

She had that advantage. He didn’t want her
dead, he just wanted her to be
his
. The muscle in her jaw
flexed as he stepped closer again, so obviously doing what she
didn’t want him to do. “You’ll be missing a kidney soon, my
King.”

Hexe didn’t answer her. He lunged, clearing
the last stride between them in a blur. Her knife whirled out and
Hexe jerked out of range, air hissing out of his teeth in a sharp
whistle. He caught her by her upper arm and flung her around, but
Steele kicked out, one booted foot connecting with his knee. He
grunted under the pain and jerked her back. Her knife slashed out,
deadly, and Hexe leapt away, letting her go.

Steele stood with her back to him, looking
over her shoulder. Her fingers played over the handle of her knife,
drumming. Calculating. Hexe licked his teeth and waited. She made
the first lunge, feinting with a slash of her knife at his gut. He
jerked back, just as her foot connected with his side. He stumbled,
lashing out when her knife blurred by again. Damn it. Hexe dodged
the slash and caught her wrist, jerking Steele sharply forward.

She stumbled, but only enough that she
managed to wedge a leg between his and catch him behind the knee.
Hexe gave a growl as he crashed down on top of her, but it was the
hoarse whoosh of air sliding from her lungs that roused a happy
rumble from his chest.

She struggled, twisting the knife around, but
he pinned one wrist above her head, snagging the other with his
free hand. Her hips pinned under his, he straddled her. He slammed
her wrists into the snow over her head. Steele’s lips tightened and
she went still.

He didn’t for a second think she’d
yielded.

“Drop the blade.” Her jaw tightened and Hexe
dug his thumb into the sensitive pulse of her wrist. “Drop it,
Steele.”

Pain flashed in her quicksilver gaze, but she
didn’t yield until her hand spasmed and the blade tumbled loose of
her grip.

She grimaced. “What now?”

He’d won the first round, but Hexe knew
better than to think the rest of this would be easy. She would be
slow to tame, slow to heat, but he’d seen metal turned molten
before and she reminded him so much of her namesake. She’d bend,
soften.

“You’re mine for the next two weeks.”

Her lips curved into a sneer and Hexe had to
fight not to lean down and steal a kiss.

She knew Wintersong, knew the Marks. She’d
known what would happen if she lost. She had hoped to win the fight
and deny him. Hexe grinned.

“I’ll play nice.” His gaze drifted to her
lips again, “But I won’t be giving you back your blade.”

Her hips flexed slightly under hers, her
whole body arching as she tried to reach for it. Hexe held her
fast, waiting. With a frustrated sigh, she stilled beneath him
again. He pinned both wrists with one hand, and swept the knife up
into his free hand. Her gaze sharpened and he didn’t miss the fury
that passed through her frost tinged eyes. But he recognized the
confusion there too, in the way her eyebrows drew down.

Then she seemed to shake it off and tensed
underneath him, her hands curled into fists.

“That’s fine. I’ll steal yours.”

He had no doubt she’d try.

Chapter
Two

He’d won. Steele had to admit she hadn’t seen
that coming. It didn’t mean anything. In the end, she’d still walk
away. But she didn’t
get
it. As King, damn near any other
single female in the tribe would want him. She didn’t. So why
her?

I have my reasons
. His words echoed
through her head, but they didn’t make any sense. She should have
guessed the Mark would come eventually. He’d tried numerous times
to get to know her. To talk to her, sometimes being so damn sweet
about it she’d wanted to scream. She liked the tribe for the
company, the presence of others. It kept her from going insane
sometimes.

But she didn’t want more. She sure as hell
didn’t want the hard length of his arousal she felt pressed against
her hips. Sex could be so innocuous at times. Without emotion, it
was just an act. But it could also be dangerous. Could lead to
stupid things like love. Trust.

And
that
wasn’t an option.

Hexe lowered his head a notch, his breath
warm against her lips. She thought of reaching up and biting him,
but his hand tightened over her wrists, one thumb pressing down
painfully. A warning. His eyes were hooded, locked on her lips and
she knew what was coming. Steele sucked in a soft breath and
clamped her jaw shut. He could kiss her but he wasn’t going to get
far.

A smile tipped his lips. There was a softness
in his green eyes that she hated, because he always seemed to see
more than anyone else. The rest of the tribe was willing to let her
be. They took her at her word—or sometimes knife—and stayed away.
Everyone except Hexe. The bastard had never gotten the hint.

He always pressed just a tad farther, toeing
the line between bluffing and her having to take action. So many
times it’d been over stupid shit. He’d tried to share one of his
kills, tried to get her to come join the group, tried to just walk
with her out in the mountains. She’d never forget the soft sympathy
in his eyes the night he’d found her wandering on the anniversary
of her mother’s death. Those green-gold eyes genuine, sympathetic.
They almost seemed to understand, even when he couldn’t have
known.

Staring up into those eyes again now, Steele
braced herself against the surge of emotion. Grief, loneliness,
longing. Hexe leaned in and Steele started to shake her head, when
he gave her a soft smile. “No worries. I won’t kiss you. Yet.”

Hexe lurched off of her. All that heat and
muscle was suddenly gone and he was standing a few feet away, her
knife wrapped in one hand. Steele forced herself to smile, to feign
smugness, but inside, her heart pounded, wild and out of
control.

“If I didn’t know any better, my King, I’d
say you were scared of me.” Only decades of practice kept her voice
from shaking. With one look, this man had always been able to see
deeper into her soul than anyone else.

And looking at him now, she knew he could
still see what no one else had. One corner of his lips lifted
slightly before the smile slipped away. “No. Only cautious. I know
better than to underestimate you.”

His attention flicked to the tribe, who still
lingered, watching them, and Hexe lifted an eyebrow. “You’re all
still here?”

There was a sharp chiding to his tone, a
rebuttal, and Steele listened to the scrape of boots, suddenly
nervous as they hurried to busy themselves. Oh, he’d known they
were there as surely as she had, but he managed to dismiss them all
without making it a command.

Hexe turned back to her and she watched as he
palmed her knife, holding it up so he could see the tribal
characters etched into the hilt. His brows lifted as his gaze
slammed against hers. “’Til death do us part?”

The words opened a raging hole of grief,
anger. Steele lurched to her feet, hands shaking. “It was my
mother’s.” Given to her by the bastard that had been her father.
“Don’t lose it.”

Understanding dawned as he jerked his head in
a slight nod. “I won’t.”

Damn. But she hated him for that. She’d just
given him another insight into her soul and he’d pick it apart and
use it against her. “It’s nothing. Lose it. I’ll find another.”

“It means something to you.”

“No. It doesn’t.” She bit the words out as
she took a threatening step towards him.

Hexe held up a hand. “All right. It means
nothing to you.”

He unzipped his parka halfway, revealing a
navy shirt, crisscrossed with leather straps. The knife disappeared
inside and he tugged the zipper up against the cold, but his words
danced around in her head.
It means nothing to you
. But it
did. And they both knew it. Having him say it didn’t make him
believe it any more than she did.

Damn him. How did he do it? He took a step
closer and she couldn’t help but stiffen. “It means nothing to
you,” Hexe said softly. “But I’ll still keep it safe.”

And those words were like a sucker-punch to
the gut, leaving her vulnerable.

She’d never liked being vulnerable.

“Just because you have my knife doesn’t mean
I’m unarmed.”

“I wouldn’t be so stupid.” Hexe closed the
gap between them, slow and confident. There was a swagger in the
sway of his hips. She thought of lashing out, but then he was
there, pressing close, his coat whispering against hers. He curled
his hands around her upper arms and Steele lifted her chin to look
him in the eye.

He’d won one fight. According to tribal laws,
that meant she had to spend the two weeks of Wintersong in the
mountains with him. Live with him, share meals with him…and for
many of their females, much more than that. As much as Steele
braced herself against the idea, it wasn’t sex that made her
nervous. It was spending time with him.

Something about Hexe made her feel safe. He
always had. He made her want to talk. Made her almost want a
friend. None of which she could afford, but she didn’t have a
choice. He’d won the fight. Tribal laws said she had to stay with
him until the Mark faded. After which they could either formalize
the mating or go their separate ways.

If she reneged on their law and refused to go
with him, she could be exiled. And the tribe was the only family
she had left, the only contact she had with anyone other than
herself. She feared not having that, having nothing to keep her
human.

“So tell me, Steele, your word. You’ll be
with me until the Mark fades.”

She laughed, a hard, brittle sound. “It’s
law.”

“You don’t always follow our laws.” His hands
moved over her jacket, massaging softly through the thick parka. As
if she were a wild animal he could simply soothe.

“What makes you think my word is any
good?”

“Because you hesitate to give it.” His voice
dropped lower. “Because you’ve never promised anyone anything that
you didn’t follow through with.”

Her jaw flexed. Damn. He’d watched her,
closer than she’d even realized.

Hexe gave her a grim smile, his expression
soft. He gave her arms an insistent squeeze. “Steele.”

Damn it. Her mother hadn’t raised her to be a
liar. If she made a promise, she kept it. One look in Hexe’s eyes
and he knew it. Two weeks. Steele shivered under his stare. It was
warm, but always alert. Always watching. She tried for a bluff. “I
don’t intend to keep you alive that long.”

“Steele.”

“Fine. ‘Til death, or the end of Wintersong,
do us part.”

Hexe grimaced a little. “That’ll do.”

One hand released her arm, only to gently
grip her chin. Hexe tilted her lips up to meet his. He ghosted the
faintest brush of his lips over her mouth, despite the way her jaw
clamped shut. “That’ll do.”

He stepped aside and let her go, backing
towards a nearby ledge. “Let’s go.”

He turned, his body twisting as he took a
step towards the steep rise of the mountain and in a single,
effortless bound, Hexe shifted from man to cat. The pale white of
his fur was dotted with black rosettes, his green-gold eyes
flashing as he looked back at her. Daring.