gods would not have drawn me to her and her to me otherwise.”
“Are you sure she did not just spread to save her life?” he asks.
I snort. “Nobody can pretend that mass amount of pleasure to save their life.”
Gunnar chokes, then coughs a few times. “Aaric,” he grunts.
“She was genuine in her desire for me,” I say, puffing out my chest and feeling proud at the way that I made her feel, more than once.
We don’t speak again for a long moment. “I want this to be genuine, Aaric. I just do not know how it can be. Have you thought about tying our islands together by marriage, strengthening our country instead of marrying a stranger, a foreigner?”
In truth, I had thought of that. I’ve also decided against it. Our women are beautiful, but most are strong, tough warriors. They are not soft, gentle, or sweet, at least in my experiences. Especially not women with power.
I’m sure there are one or two gentle creatures out there that I have yet to find, but it is not the way of our people. We need to be strong in all things.
Our weather is not made for the weak. Our lands not made for the soft. There is no gentleness allotted in war, and our women have been known to fight beside us if they are needed.
“I like this one,” I state.
He doesn’t push me, knowing that if he does, I will lash out with my own brand of anger, the likes of which he has seen, but thankfully never experienced. Standing, I empty my cup before I toss it in a pile with the rest and turn toward my tent.
“We leave after we break our fast. Also, see if there is a slave who has an extra dress for my bride. Leave it outside the tent.”
Without another word, I leave Gunnar to his drink. I’m sure that I have caused him grief, but I do not mind it so much. He will be okay, this is my decision to make as a man and as the konungr of my people.
If I thought for a moment that this would be bad for my people, I would not marry her, I would keep her as a bed slave and nothing more.
Liv will be the dróttning of my people.
She will sit at my side as a beautiful creature to gaze upon. She will bring my sons to life and she will bear me beautiful daughters with hair like fire and eyes like the clay that makes up Wolfjour Ail.
Chapter Four
LIV
I gasp as I feel something heavy against my belly. “Hvíla,” a voice rumbles behind me.
My first thought is, wow, Aaric really sounds freaking great even if I can’t understand him. The second thought I have is, holy fuck, I’m still here.
Rolling over in his arms, I face him. His eyes are closed, his lips pursed slightly. His long reddish-blond beard begs to have my fingers slide through it, then again, so does his overly long hair. I’ve never been into men with long hair, always having preferred the clean-shaven business types, but this is different.
Aaric is nothing like any other man that I’ve even seen before. He’s rough, rugged, frightening and absolutely sexy as sin. He grunts before his eyes slowly open. I wonder if I watch his blue orbs, if they’ll shift and move like water does.
He lifts his hand, cupping my cheek tenderly before he slides his hand through the side of my hair. His fingers grip the strands at the back of my neck, tightening as he continues to watch me. His lips twitch into a small grin and I know that he has something planned.
I’m sure that I am supposed to be frightened, but I’m not. I’m the opposite, I’m fucking thrilled and excited wondering what he will give me next.
Orgasms? Please.
Tender looks? Yes.
Gruff orders barked in his sexy language? Hot.
Saying my name with his accent? God, please.
I expect him to tug my head back, to expose my throat to his mouth like he did earlier, but he doesn’t. Instead he releases my hair, his hand sliding around the side of my throat then down the center of my chest until he reaches my stomach.
His touch. It does something to me, something that I can’t quite understand. My entire body starts to feel hot, as if I’m starting to catch fire from the inside out. Pressing my thighs together, I whimper as that fire begins to build inside of me at