Page 36 of Chosen

Enzo was right behind us. He stepped into place beside Cardinal Ant and started to pray. He kept it short and in no time at all, he was waving for the crowns and scepters to be brought forth.

When Enzo moved to place the crown on Sig’s head, he took a knee and allowed it. So, when he came forward with mine, I did the same. Sig smiled with approval and the scepters were placed in our hands.

The crowd applauded and people outside cheered wildly.

“I think they already love us,” Sig mused, with a grin.

I couldn’t help it, I kissed him right there in front of everyone. Etiquette be damned.

“Come here, I have a gift for you,” he whispered, against my neck.

It sent chills through me. I let him capture my hand and hurried behind him toward his bedchamber. I was certain that I knew exactly what he was about to give me. When the doors opened, however, I was greeted with the sight of a long table. Maps were scattered about the tabletop and it was littered with wine bottles and spent candles.

There in the center, with a dagger holding it in place was the map of Ramir. My breath hitched. I’d lived with Ozias long enough to know what a war table looked like. My mind snapped to Gisla and Enzo. They would be leaving for Ramir any day. It was their home!

“I want to give you a second crown, Renata. Say you will do it with me. Say that we will take this Holy City in the name of the Gods and the Bay,” he whispered like a mad man while his lips skimmed my throat. His hands roamed my hips and anchored against my ass.

I pulled back and studied his face. His eyes were glossed and wild, but he was serious.

It was Enzo’s pride. His homeland meant everything to him. Such a move would leave his family split in two.

My new family.

“I want to give you Ramir,” he repeated. “I will have it… but it would mean the world to me if it were written that you took it with me.”

My heart hammered in my chest. I couldn’t stop studying his face for some sign of jesting. I’d waited my whole stupid life to hear a man beg for my presence so passionately. He wanted me and damned if I didn’t want him to.

I wanted to be famous, and yes, I wanted to be his! The same Vikings that had enslaved and owned me would write sagas and sing songs in my name.

“Yes,” I whispered, a thousand times.

THE END