“My King!” She manages out through her hazy submission.
In a firm thrust, his shaft spears her core just as hisfingers abuse her swollen bundle of nerves. She cannot hold out any longer, and she comes undone.
She screams through the gag, convulsing in the bindings as he plows away. Only when calm ebbs over her pleasure does she feel him pulse inside of her, pumping his seed into her belly.
“I have always wanted to fuck you on a throne.” Sigvid undoes the belt and removes her gag.
“I am certain your fantasy involved my Timber throne.” She answers in a breathy whisper.
Sigvid wraps her in his arms, kissing her cheek. “I would have bound and abused you. Only it would have been before the entire Timber Court, my little Queen. You should know everything I have done to your body since the Arena has long festered in my mind. You are my dream manifested. Had the gods made you in their image, I could not have crafted a better woman or partner.”
Avina wraps her arms around his chest. “I am yours, Sigvid Thordsson. I am yours.”
49
SIGVID
December 22nd, Year 100, 9th Era
Blackwood Inn, Salt Province
“He is coming for her.”
Helga’s words plague Sigvid’s lonely trek along the dirt road from the city to Blackwood. Thrain’s mystery accomplice entered the town a few hours prior. What his brother did not count on are the well over two hundred Drengr awaiting their Lord Commander’s directive.
As soon as the shieldmaiden shared the conversation his brother and fucking Ceowald had with his Avina, the Salt Prince knew it was a matter of time. Thrain would come to claim her, and Sigvid would gut him where he stood.
Sigvid watches his home rise atop the hill shrouded in snow-covered trees and accepts the haunting reality that war is once again on the horizon for him and the Queen of Timber. Only this time, he will not fucking lose.
He is almost to the steps leading to the porch when a crash sounds in the frozen bushes to his left.
What in the fuck?
No one in their right mind would dare break into his home.
A glance around the woods shows the perimeter deserted. Calder ended his watch not long ago, and the replacement Drengr has yet to show.
Sigvid strides toward the disturbance, slowly edging a blackwood axe from the sheath on his leather belt. To think this scum has been anywhere near his little Queen.
Your death will be agonizing when I remove all of your organs while you are still alive.
When he reaches the bushes, he finds them empty except for a smaller set of footprints leading around the back of the house.
He collects his breath and pursues the intruder, keeping up on his toes to avoid crunching the thick, wintery powder.
Whoever he uncovered is sloppy. Do they wish to be apprehended?
A cloaked shadow dives between the tree trunks up ahead, and his feral grin widens at the thought of ripping them apart. His stride lengthens until he can reach out and touch them. Screams emanate from his prey as his fingers curl around the cloak’s hood and slam their back into the nearest blackwood tree with his blade at their neck.
“Avina?” Sigvid recoils, his mind racing to make sense of this.
“Good evening,” she quips as if he interrupted her nightly stroll. Her expression is so full of forced indifference that he is disturbed.
He growls, dropping his axe to the ground, and wraps his hand around her throat. “Do you understand what I do to unannounced intruders?” His hot breath cuts through the icy air, falling over her.
“Are you going to kill me, Sigvid?”
Is she fucking taunting me?
