“You are not trying to be funny?” he asks, his tone lethal.
Instead of speaking, I choose this moment to find my silence as I keep my eyes focused on his blue ones and shake my head slowly from side to side.
“Nei, Liv,” he growls. “Nei.”
“That’s not really an option, Aaric,” I snap.
He rounds the bed, his legs moving faster than I can attempt to scramble to get away from him. I am able to stumble backward, my back slamming against the stone wall of the room. Aaric lifts his hand and slams it on the stone next to my head.
Jesus, but that’s a move that I think every guy I’ve ever dated has pulled when we’ve fought and I’ve been backed against the wall, or when we’ve fucked against a wall. My belly dips at the thought of Aaric’s strong body holding me against this wall while he moved inside of me.
Visions fill my mind and suddenly, I’ve forgotten everything we’ve been fighting about. The intense desire to have him inside of me overrides whatever seemed so important just moments ago.
I try to shake off the sensations, to hide the need that is beginning to build, to shove it elsewhere, but it doesn’t work. Aaric’s nostrils flare as if he can smell my desire as my pussy clenches.
“If you try to leave me, the only way you’ll be able to make money here, without a man, is to spread your legs for strangers’ coin. If you wish to do that, then be my guest, but my child will not be raised by a hóra.”
He pushes off the wall and without another word, I watch as he storms away from me, again. This freaking dick cannot stay and finish a conversation, even a heated one, without stomping off like a spoiled child.
Dickhead.
Chapter Nineteen
AARIC
Walking out of the húsgørd, thankfully my sword is on my belt as I make my way toward my men who are training. With a grunt, I unsheathe my sword and join in the battles. Nobody asks me any questions, they just fight with me, challenge me and force me into exhaustion.
The sun sets, the dinner bell rings, and although I would like to continue, my men are tired and hungry. I have a wife to fill with seed, then men to meet when the moon is high in the sky.
“Your wife causes you grief? Is she not falling all over you after you paraded her through the húsgørd?” Gunnar asks.
I grunt. “It was not my finest hour,” I admit on a grumble.
“You are better than that, Aaric.”
Shaking my head, I stop walking and turn to him. “She makes me lose my good senses. It is either her magic or the gods playing tricks.”
“Probably a bit of both, but most likely because you actually care for her more than you have anyone else and you are unsure of how to act on that, especially when you have this prophecy and your people to worry over.”
Nodding my head slowly, I clear my throat and level my frændi with my eyes. “It does not matter how or what I feel for her. She was sent by the gods, she is my fate, and she yields magic that she cannot control. She is dangerous.”
He hums, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “Possibly, but maybe your hesitancy is less due to the fact that she holds power, which includes power over the water and winds which could be helpful to us, and more to the fact that you actually like her, possibly have already fallen in love with her.”
I should punch him in the face, slam my fist against his cheek, but I don’t. It’s not worth it and he is not wrong, which I hate. “We meet at the cabin, later?” I ask, refusing to comment on his observation.
“Yes,” he agrees as we reach the entrance doors.
Our conversation dies as does the rest of the room’s conversations. All eyes are on me and although I should feel uncomfortable, because I know why they are staring, I do not. My wife, however, will no doubt feel awkward.
News travels fast in the capital city of Wolfjour Ail. My people are good, hardworking, but they do enjoy their gossip, especially when it is about their king and his family. Typically, it is conversations about Fiske and whatever he has done to either ire a man, by sleeping with his companion, or angered some farmer for sleeping with his daughter.
It is almost never directed at their king.
Ignoring everyone’s gaze, I march toward my bedroom. Not bothering to knock, I slip inside of the room to gather my bride. She is almost exactly where I left her. Except she’s sitting on a small stool while Sylvi arranges her hair.
“Will you please just accept one of the slaves as your personal assistant so that you don’t need to find people to attend to your body?” I say with a heavy sigh.
Liv ignores me. I sigh, then ask Sylvi what she’s doing. She turns to me, a big smile on her face. “Enjoying my new sister, Aaric.”
“But you cannot converse with her,” I grunt.
She laughs softly, shaking her head a couple of times. “Doesn’t matter. I like her. She is kind, so are her eyes. Even though I cannot understand her words and she cannot understand mine, we have had fun together. I like your choice of a wife, bródir.”
“Go on, food is ready,” I grunt.
She smiles, bending down she touches her cheek to Liv’s before she tells her that she is going. I know that Liv does not understand her, but I watch Liv give my sister a smile and nod as though she does.
When we are alone again, I dip my chin toward my wife. “It is time to eat,” I announce.
“What did your sister say?”
Smirking down at her, I debate on telling her the truth or lying to her. In the end, I decide to tell her the truth. “She said she must go now, to eat, but that she would love to help you arrange your braids tomorrow.”
“I like your sister, she’s sweet.”
I hum, staying where I am as I watch her fidget with her fingers in her lap. “Both of my sisters are sweet in nature.”
She nods, looking down at her twisting fingers. “My sisters are too, all three of them. I miss them.”
“The prophecy proclaims that you will all be together again, sváss,” I remind her.
She hums before she stands to her feet. My eyes roam over her dress and I am caught off guard, not only by how perfectly it fits her, but also how much she looks like one of my people in the light blue gown.
Slowly she lifts her gaze up to meet mine, her green eyes sparkle as she watches me for a moment.
“I would never sell my body for money, Aaric,” she whispers. “I could cook or clean, but I couldn’t do that.”
Lifting my hand, I cup her cheek. “We must stop lashing out in anger and with magic, yeah?”
“I don’t know how,” she admits.
“Runa will just have to teach you then,” I murmur.
“Okay.”
“Hungry?”
“Starving.”
Holding out my arm, she lips her hand in the crook and together we walk out to the dining hall where our people wait for us.
Liv holds her head up high, knowing without a doubt that if they didn’t see her naked flesh, they all heard about it. She does not show that their stares or knowledge affect her at all, her cheeks do not even tint pink at the knowledge.
It is now that I realize, she is indeed my match, my dróttning. She is fated to be mine and it has never been clearer to me than in this exact moment.