He leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to her lips.
In the quiet of the night, he can appreciate her light snores and the slight imperfections in her features.
Why has it taken him so long to realize she holdshismind, body, and soul in her grasp?
There is no deal.
You are staying with me until the moment you embrace your Goddess. I cannot bear the thought of another man touching you. Of you whimpering under someone else’s dominance. Everything about you is intoxicating. You are a godsdamn drug invading my senses.
It is all of you. I need your gorgeous smile and your heavy tits, your beautiful mind, and your tight cunt.
You are mine.
November 8th, Year 100, 9th Era
Toftlund City, Salt Province
The sun has barely crested the horizon when Hest’s hooves clack upon the cobblestone. Sigvid lays a hand against Avina’s stomach to keep her secure on the horse as they enter Toftlund.
Waking up to his marks on her body has been the best start to his morning in months.
Owning her has already become intoxicating.
Throughout their morning, he does not attempt to conceal his obvious enjoyment at her strains to lift even the lightest objects. Thora grew murderous when Avina dropped and shattered the jar of apple butter that Thora passed. She must have startled herself, twisting on the chair when she rubbed one of the nastier bruises. For that, he owed Thora a new jar of her favorite treat.
Worth it.
He is pleased in his search through the Blackwood storage room to find a long-sleeved jet-black gown adorned with gold-inlaid runic designs along the seams. Knowing the Queen of Timber bore bruisesfrom his hand underneath a dress in the Salt style has him straining his trousers.
“Where are we headed?” she asks for the third time since they left home. It is not that their destination is a secret, but he thoroughly enjoys not instantly indulging her.
“It is the house of one of my Drengr,” he admits. “I want confirmation of what happened to Sven before we journey to the aqueducts.”
One of the larger homes built from solid timber and bearing the weather of age rises along the main street. He helps her dismount. The sudden shift in her seat paints a gruesome wince on her face.
“Still hurting?”
It brings me much pleasure to know you suffer for me.
Avina’s head twists to glower at him silently.
His smile widens.
They climb the worn, wooden steps to a yellow front door. Before Sigvid can pull on the knocker, it creaks open, revealing a disheveled Kar draped in a gray robe and ragged brown trousers.
“My Prince? Is there something I can assist with?” Kar opens the door to reveal his wife, Ingirid, bustling around a large hearth where no less than half a dozen children argue over benign topics with plates stacked with bacon and eggs.
“Good morning, Kar,” Sigvid cringes as he watches the children running about uncontrolled, failing to keep a straight face at the scene. He motions for them to move to a side room.
“I wanted to ask you about Sven. I know he has been missing. What happened?”
Kar’s gaze narrows when Avina follows them into the quieter room. Judging by the discarded toys, it is a bedroom shared by two of his children.
“You may want to have a seat.” Kar moves to a rickety rocking chair and settles in.
Sigvid perches on one of the two beds while Avina sinks onto the other bed, whimpering with soft “oohs” as her bum settles onto the mattress.
For a moment, Kar’s brow furrows at her discomfort, and then heshakes his head and begins. “After the Timber Queen,” he shoots a look of discontent at Avina, who, to her credit, does not flinch, “forced you to the Arena. Many fought tooth and nail to comprehend how someone could sell you into the fighting ring. Sven should have been training to be a Drengr, not roughing up couriers seeking answers.”
