LIV
Dinner is… uncomfortable, to say the least. People sitting around the large table talk in hushed tones. I couldn’t understand them, even if they yelled, but they probably don’t want Aaric to hear them talking about his wife, their queen.
I hear Sylvi giggle next to me. Looking over to her, I press my lips together at what I’m seeing unfold right in front of my eyes. Gunnar has his head tipped, but his eyes are on Sylvi. She has her chin tilted down.
If I could see her face, I would guess that she is looking directly at Gunnar. Looking directly at a man who is probably twice her age and her brother’s warrior. Also, from what I can tell, his best friend, too.
Aaric reaches beneath the table, his hand curls around my knee and my entire body jolts as I turn to face him. Looking up into his eyes, I can’t help but smile as he watches me warmly. The man confuses me.
He hates me one minute and wants me the next. It shouldn’t surprise me, I feel the same way about him. One minute I want to scratch his eyes out, the next I want to jump on him and ride his beautiful big cock.
Just thinking about him, about his dick, and the way he absolutely knows how to move it, I have to squeeze my thighs together. Biting the corner of my lip, I tilt my head to the side and watch him.
His eyes sparkle as he grins down at me. It’s as though he can see and understand my thoughts without either of us having to say a single word. “Soon, fagr,” he rasps.
“What does fagr mean?” I ask.
I watch as he shakes his head a couple of times. “It means beautiful,” he says. “You are a rare beauty, Liv. I’ve never seen a woman who looks anything like you before.”
“Why is that?” I ask, completely confused.
At home, I’m nothing special. I’ve dated a few men, but I don’t think they’ve ever told me I’m the most beautiful woman they’ve ever seen. I’m average, at best. I know I’m nothing to sneeze at, but a rare beauty I am not.
Aaric lifts his hand, reaching for my hair as he takes a piece between his fingers and feels the strands. “Hair this color, the color of fire? It does not exist in this land or any land that I have come across. Rare. Your eye color, the same.”
“Nobody has green eyes and red hair? I’m guessing you’ve never seen any Irish people then?”
His brows furrow and he presses his lips together as if I’ve totally confused him. Right. I suppose there is no Ireland in this weird alternate universe.
“Eyes, yes, in some of the other lands. The hair? No, not that I’ve ever seen, not this vibrant, and I have been all over the world.”
“Wow. So, my hair makes me beautiful then?” I ask.
He almost rolls his eyes at me, I can tell that he’s trying to keep from doing just that. He’s fighting the urge. Instead, his jaw clenches and I watch as a muscle tics in his cheek. Aaric narrows his eyes at me, then lifts a brow as he relaxes his hardened features.
“I think you know that is not the case. It makes you rare, but more than just your hair makes you fagr, Liv.”
I want to make him tell me what he thinks makes me beautiful, but I don’t. It doesn’t matter, not really. He thinks I’m beautiful, he’s my husband and as long as he doesn’t act like a giant dickhead again like he did earlier, we’re going to be okay.
As much as I want to hate him, be angry at him for what happened, I can’t. I’m not sure how I am processing any of this. It all seems unreal, completely unrealistic as well. I can’t expect him to be perfect, although having me carried out of his room completely naked is as far from perfect as a person can get.
Fiske shouts and the room goes quiet. Aaric’s head whips around to face his brother before I’m able to look down toward the end of the table myself.
I can’t understand him, but he shouts and holds up his cup of, judging by the way he’s swaying is full of booze. The room erupts in applause, then other men around hold up their cups and shout as well.
Shifting my gaze from Fiske, I see the woman who assaulted me when I arrived sitting next to him. Her eyes are focused on me and she has a smirk playing on her lips as she watches me, a cocky one. I can’t help the immediate sensation of dread that fills me at the sight of her and her smile.
Fiske shifts his head, dipping his chin down at her. She stands, puffing her chest out, awfully proud of herself as he drapes his arm across her shoulder. Then, before I realize what I’m watching, he reaches over her shoulder and grabs a handful of her breast right here at the dinner table.
Everyone cheers, but I’m so confused. Are they cheering because he’s grabbing her boob? What is actually going on here? Turning to look over to Aaric, I shrink back in my seat. The look on his face, it does not mirror the jovial attitude of the rest of the room.
In fact, he looks even more pissed at his brother than he ever has at me. Personally, I thought he was pretty pissed when he had me dragged out of our bed for unknowingly practicing witchcraft.
Apparently, he can get even angrier. I wonder what would happen if he unleashed all of that rage that is obviously building inside of him, at whatever his brother has announced to the rest of the room, while he grabs his lady’s booby in front of God and everybody?
Aaric stands. I am waiting for him to say something, to yell and let off some of that building anger, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns to me, holding his hand out, palm up. Hesitantly, I slip my hand inside of his and rise to my own feet.
Without a single word, he tugs me behind him. We walk past the entire table. I don’t look at anyone, not even Fiske and the bitch at his side. Keeping my gaze straight forward, I move my feet as quickly as I can, following my husband.
We slip inside of our bedroom and I silently watch as Aaric bars the door before he turns around to face me. Gasping, I gulp at the sight of his black eyes.
Chapter Twenty
LIV
“Aaric,” I whisper. “What happened in there?”
He shakes his head once, taking a step toward me, then lets out a growl before he turns toward the stone fireplace. I watch in silence, waiting for him to explain to me what has happened, what his brother said to make him so upset.
Instead of telling me immediately, he turns to the fireplace and starts to fiddle with the wood. The slow burn of the fire begins and I’m kind of grateful because it’s starting to get a little chilly, but I would really like to know what the hell is going on.
“My brother,” he sighs as he stands. He doesn’t turn around to face me. I don’t ask him to, hoping that he’ll finish his sentence soon. “He has always been the difficult one. He is full of defiance and spirit, he’s always been wild, feral even.”
“Sounds like my sister, Birdie,” I snort.
He looks over his shoulder, his brows furrowed in the middle. “Birdie? Like the animal, a bird?”
Tilting my head to the side, I can’t help the small smile that appears on my lips. “I suppose, yes, like the animal.”
“Why would your parents name your sister after a bird? Knowing how free-spirited and how they lack roots?”
Slowly, he turns around to face me, his brows lifted high as he waits for my answer. Shrugging a shoulder, I lick my lips and take one hesitant step toward him.