“Who the fuck are you?” Sigvid demands as his blood pressure rises from the disturbance. His arms cross over his thick chest.
The stranger lifts his head, peering at Sigvid over his glasses. “Oh my.” He smirks while his eyes land firmly on his cock. “Mmm, hello Lord Thordsson. Well, now I see why she kept that collar.”
The stranger stands. “Is it Sigvid? Or do you prefer theBeast?”
Sigvid’s left eye twitches. “Most people state their intentions clearly to avoid my fucking axe in their skull.”
“Oh, we are tightly wound. Avina warned me about your temper.” He stretches, clutching the goblet and the book with the romance title outward.
Sigvid cracks his neck and is about to physically relocate this uppity prick to the porch when he hears giggling from the opposite end of the hall.
“...and I told Lod it was snowberry juice!” Thora cackles along with Avina.
“Sigvid…” Avina’s voice trails off as she and Thora appear in the doorway and take in his very naked body.
“Dammit, Uncle Sig! You are embarrassing me!” Thora spits as she averts her eyes.
“Language, Thora.” Avina reprimands.
“Sorry, Aunt V.”
“Now that everyone is here, can someone introduce me to…” Sigvid glares at the stranger.
“Duke Bertram Alexandrite. Avina’s father and my mother are siblings.” He flashes a toothy smile.
Avina mutters, sliding the fox scarf from around her neck and wrapping it around Sigvid’s waist. “This is my cousin, Bertie. He is staying with us for a while. He got in late last night, and Slode has been watching over him.”
I bet Slode has.Sigvid clutches the fur to his member and drops his gaze to Avina’s sweet, pleading eyes.
The gods created you to torture me at every corner, did they not?
“Welcome, Wine Lord, to the Blackwood Inn.” Snark seems to be the only reliable friend he has these days.
Avina flinches. “Come on, Bertie. Thora is going into town. Why don’t you join her?” The three of them disappear, leaving Sigvid needing a more substantial distraction than reading.
After begrudgingly throwing on clothes, he reclines in one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs at the long table in the central space of Blackwood. Black tattoo pigment and needles scatter the surface, allowing him to expand his tally marks.
After the shit continued to pour in, he has yet to update his count. By his calculation, he has well over three hundred kills by his hand alone, including the battles before the Arena.
Every dark slash stood as a reminder to his people of who protects them from the monsters of the Endless Shore continent and a further reminder to himself of his responsibility as their Prince.
But he will reserve a special line for Lord Leto, the bastard who has set so much in motion in the first place.
“What are you up to?” Avina’s voice warms the void where his heart should beat.
She emerges from the kitchen stairs with Nellie and Carrot Chubs quick at her heels. She drinks in his bare, inked chest and the scattered items between his fists.
“Adding to my collection.” He grumps.
“Your marks of how many men you have slain?” She takes the spare chair across the table from him, poking at the pigment jar.
“Yes.”
Why must she loiter here when the entire lodge is at her disposal?
For over two weeks, he has done a piss poor job keeping her at arm’s length. Enough distance to satisfy his cock, yet somehow not fucking far enough. No matter how his insides twist over the situation, keeping her safe is more important than anything else. Even if it means concealing his devotion to his Queen, lest he inadvertently warn Thrain and trigger the death of his mother and Thora.
“You must have hundreds to add since your time in the Arena.” She releases the ceramic jar, creaking back in her chair.
