With a curse, Marrok snapped his gaze to Bram. “Fix it.”
“Impossible. The damage is done.”
Her father curled a gentle hand around her shoulder. “My sweet, you’re going to have to learn not to broadcast your feelings quite so clearly. Many in this house know you’re furious with Marrok, happy to meet me, and are trying to break your mate’s curse with the Doomsday Diary.”
Olivia felt a flush spread from her eyebrows to her toes as she stepped up beside Marrok.
“No need to be embarrassed,” Bram assured. “You’re young and untrained. You will learn—”
“Not at your hand.” With a roll of his massive shoulders, Marrok edged closer. “You promised if we arrived that you would tell us what you have learned from your grandfather’s journals. We have kept our end of the bargain; now keep yours.”
Bram seemed to weigh his options. Beside her, Olivia could feel the wall of Marrok’s fury. He didn’t like being manipulated, and Bram didn’t care as long as he got what he wanted.
Finally, Bram said, “According to Merlin’s writings, the symbol is actually a key that opens the diary. Two keys, in fact. Somehow, the symbol comes apart, yet fits together again to latch into the Book of Doomsday and unlock it.”
“Where are these keys?”
Bram shrugged. “Morganna gave them to her son before she was banished by Merlin. No one knows what he did with them. They’ve been absent for a thousand years.”
Richard piped in. “We can explore this later, but we have a more pressing matter now.” He turned to Marrok. “You were Arthur’s greatest warrior. Some believe you may be the greatest warrior of all time. But Bram is telling the truth. Olivia needs protection from Mathias. You are not magical. You can stop no one.”
Marrok’s eyes narrowed. “I protect what is mine. I may not be magical, but thanks to your ancestor, I am invincible.”
“Your curse may prevent you from being killed, but it will not stop the Anarki from storming your home, immobilizing you, and taking the diary and Olivia away. If you ever see her again, she won’t be the same woman.”
Marrok flinched and clenched his fists.
“What Mathias can do to a woman…” Richard shuddered.
“I am aware.”
“Then let her come with me. I know how the Anarki works. I can protect—”
“Nay. Olivia needs me. Without me, she falls very ill. Before I understood that, she nearly died. She will not endure such hell again.”
“We’ll arrange safe visits for you. But let me hide her.”
“Nay.”
“You are risking her life to spare your pride,” her father argued. “If I hadn’t learned how to hide from the Anarki, I would have been dead long ago.”
“Without me, she will be dead. Safe visits may be too difficult or come too late.” Marrok was resolute; he would not stand aside.
“Are you listening, you stubborn warrior?” Richard snarled, “She is my daughter, and—”
“She is my mate. You failed to acknowledge her for twenty-three years. Why should either of us believe you now care?” Marrok removed her father’s hand from her shoulder.
Olivia frowned. “Marrok, surely we can work something out? I’ve waited my whole life to meet my father. If he knows how to hide from the Anarki, shouldn’t we at least listen to him?”
Her warrior paused, turning deadly still. “You waited because he did not come for you. What kind of father is that? You should not put your safety in the hands of someone who could not be troubled to even meet you.”
“He was in hiding, trying to avoid bringing danger to our doorstep.”
“Excuses.”
“And what are yours, huh? You withheld the little fact that we’re essentially married.”
Marrok grasped her shoulders in his huge but surprisingly gentle grip. “You were unwell, and I feared your body could not endure such shock after you awoke.”
“Yesterday, maybe. Today, I’m fine. You just gave me excuses. Why should I believe them?”
“Because I am your mate and I will protect you with every ounce of my strength and every breath in my body. This, you know.”
“Do I?” Marrok wasn’t with her because he cared. He was with her because his curse and their mating made it mandatory. He’d never once said he had feelings for her. God, how careless she’d been.
“You should.” Marrok bristled, then pointed at her father. “What do you know of him?”
They arrived back at the cottage, and the silence was grating, even for Marrok. Olivia had not uttered a single word since they’d left the party.
Bram’s driver let them off in front of the cottage, saving them the long walk. Marrok had actually looked forward to carrying Olivia the mile-plus up the road to spare her little feet in those ridiculously sexy high heels. At least he would have been touching her. As it was now, she stormed up the steps of the darkened house.
Given everything he’d heard tonight, Marrok thought better of it. “Wait!”
She didn’t even face him as she reached for the door. “What?”
He grabbed her hands before she could touch the knob. “We must be cautious. Let me make certain the house is safe before you enter.”
She glared at him over her shoulder. “If you were so damn worried that someone could find your place, maybe you should have at least listened to my father instead of being confrontational and rude. He knows how to evade the Anarki. But no, you had to be a proud jackass and assume you’re powerful enough to fight anything.”
Marrok gritted his teeth as he nudged her aside, unlocked the door, and stepped into the cottage. He sensed nothing. Doubtful that Mathias’s ruffians could pass his line of magic protection, but just in case…His gut told him they were alone, and instinct had saved his life more than once when he’d been mortal. Still, better to look with his eyes, as well.
Silently, he eased into the house and flipped on the lights, quickly checking the little cottage, every room, every wardrobe. Nothing.
He returned to the entry where Olivia still waited, looking more than a trifle irritated.
“Are you even listening to me?” she groused when he returned to her side.
“Aye, and I heard plenty about Richard Gray tonight. He knows not only how to evade the Anarki, but how to twist the truth as well. It seems convenient that he should take such an interest in you now, when you know where to find the Doomsday Diary.”
Olivia slammed the door. “Bram just found him. Richard couldn’t have known that I know something about the diary.”
“He contacted Bram once before looking for information about the diary. Then, lo and behold, he and Bram are suddenly chatting again just as you mentally blare to all and sundry that I have the book. Make no mistake, if that word reaches Mathias and the Anarki, we’ll be in for one bloody fight.”
“It was an accident! What do you want, an apology in blood?”
“Of course not. I understand you knew not about projecting your thoughts. But I will not release you to a stranger, even if he shares your blood. You know naught of his past, his allegiances, or his character.”
“But he’s proven that he can ditch these monsters.”
“Is that how you wish to spend your life, running?”
She hesitated. “No, but I want to live to see another day.”
“I want that for you. I want to give that to you.” He took her hands in his big, slightly rough ones. “I want a mate who trusts that I can take care of her.”
Olivia shook off his touch. “Yeah? Well, I want a man I can trust, too. One who might have bothered to tell me we were mated in the first place. It would have been dandy if you’d also let me make a decision about where I’m safest, since I’m an adult, not a blow-up doll. If I’d made a list of the most attractive traits in a man, deceiving and controlling wouldn’t have made the cut, pal.”
“When you were weak and recovering, I dared not stun you with the truth. I could hardly believe the strength of our bond myself.”
“Ten minutes after I woke up from my trance or whatever, I can understand. But what stopped you for the last forty-eight hours? Did the truth just slip your mind?”
“No. It is…complicated.”
“Yeah, I can see it would be hard for you to confess that you’re only with me because you think I’m your ticket to the land of the uncursed.”
“That is untrue.”
She propped one hand on her hip. “Really? Then what exactly made you answer my Mating Call?”
“The same thing I assume that made you issue it: It was impossible to resist.”
Olivia wondered if there was any truth to that. She wanted to believe him so badly, it was a physical pain. But she didn’t dare. “Did you know what it meant when I said the words? I sure as hell didn’t.”
He hesitated. “Aye.”
Her jaw dropped. “You weren’t shocked?”
“I was.”
“And you said nothing, asked no questions?” She frowned. “At the time, you thought I was Morganna. You believed you were binding yourself to the woman who cursed you? Despite your protests, you did answer my Mating Call because you intended to use it to somehow end your curse. I gave you—” she paused, choked. “Every bit of me. I was nothing to you but the means to an end.”
He stared at her with solemn blue eyes. “Whatever this bond between us, it is one we share. I feel it too.”
“Aww, such pretty words,” she mocked. “The only thing you feel is that I’m the key to your freedom. Let me tell you, jackass, from now on, you can go to hell.”
Olivia stomped out of the room, hardly able to believe the turn her life had taken.
“You will die without my touch,” he said from behind her. “Because you are mated and untransitioned, you need sex with me to retain your energy.”
Not a single word about their lovemaking being something his heart craved. Nothing about how he enjoyed being with her or that he cared. He didn’t, and she’d been a fool to indulge in the fantasy that he did. No wonder he’d never had a relationship. He sucked in the sensitivity department.
She almost thanked him for opening her eyes; she wouldn’t make that mistake a second time.
Stiffening her spine, Olivia told him, “I’d rather die than let you use me again.”
CHAPTER TEN
A FEW HOURS SLIPPED BY, and Olivia wondered if she’d spoken too soon. At the moment, she wouldn’t rather die than have Marrok touch her. Even if he was a tricky, lying bastard, her body ached for him. Her skin felt tight and itched for his touch, flesh prickly, insides fevered.
She rolled over and encountered a hard chest. When had he slipped into bed beside her? Instead of rolling away, she scooted closer and smoothed a hand over the sleek bulge of his shoulder, down the steely rise and fall of his pectorals, across his ridged abdomen.
He groaned in his sleep. She snatched her hand away.
Since he’d withheld the news of their mating, she shouldn’t be tempted to drop her grip to the erection she suspected he’d have. But with his warrior’s body under her hands and midnight scent around her, the temptation crept in.
All the time he had spent with her, given her incredible pleasure, acted as if he cared about her, none of that had been real.
Olivia looked at the clock. Not quite two in the morning. She was groggy but awake. Her body was on red alert, with gut clenched, nipples peaked and flesh swollen. Damn it.
She rolled away. Instantly, her energy dissipated, as if some vacuum sucked it from her. Dizziness swooped in, debilitating. But she throbbed, itching to cross the sheet and resume her exploration. She barely had the energy to move a muscle. Chill seeped in. Awareness bled out. The edges of her vision turned black.
God, she was going to pass out.
Pain set in, and Olivia moaned. She remembered nearly dying and so didn’t want to experience that nightmare again.
Being dependent on Marrok sucked. She’d been a burden to her mother for years, and she’d be damned if she was going to repeat the experience with Marrok.
He thought himself cursed? Welcome to the party.
What had compelled her to seal their union with those nonsensical words? She’d tried a dozen times to recall whatever had driven her. But she could only remember the way every cell in her body had screamed to say those words and her euphoric joy when he’d accepted and touched her.
None of that helped now. She was trapped in a hell of her own making. She needed him or she would die, that simple. But Olivia refused to be a sacrificial lamb. She’d get what she needed on her terms, in her way.
She focused on that mantra. A twitch of fingers became a curling of knuckles, then a fist. She fought to reach Marrok, as if shifting her arm through thick water with the current raging against her. Trembling, she battled the fatigue using her anger.