A Queen Named Victory

Chapter Twenty-One

Grendel's POV

I awoke to Sigrid's frightened scream and a swift kick to the face. I instantly jumped to my feet with my sword halfway out of the hilt, ready to kill the cause of her fear. Our room remained quiet and undisturbed. Melted wax puddles decorated the benches and trunks beside our bed. Our blankets and pillows laid upon the bed, crumpled from our restless night with the faint scent of sex and soapberries.

"Sigrid?!"

"I'm sorry!"

She peeked from behind the other end of the bed through a nest of tangled curls bouncing in all directions. "I'm not used to sleeping with...a man. Well, I mean, waking up next to a man." She pulled her hair behind her ears as she rambled about her surprise this morning when she found herself in my arms.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"I think I'll have to pop my jaw back into place," I said while rubbing my chin. She took my remark seriously and frowned as she reached for my face. Her fingers grazed me with the same tenderness as she had the night before. I pushed away before lust struck again. Sigrid lasted longer than I expected for a human. Her passion kept us busy throughout the evening, and my eagerness to satisfy endured her charge.

She moved well despite the expected soreness. Slight reddened scratches connected the speckles along her back. Her breasts, plump and tender, swayed as she crawled back under the covers. I sighed and left Sigyr at the side of the bedpost before rolling under the blankets beside her.

"Are you sore at all?"

She shook her head then asked, "Did the bite heal?" She traced her fingers on my shoulder, where she punctured me during her first orgasm. It was surprisingly still tender to the touch. It should have healed within moments of happening, but the bloody skin barely scabbed overnight.

"I'm sorry for that," she said apologetically.

I leaned closer to my temptress. Her sneaky fingers made any excuse to graze my skin. Whether it was my biceps or my shoulder, Sigrid searched for scratches and marks worth touching to light my simmering hearth.

"Your hands seem lost."

"I hadn't noticed," she responded coyly with a look of pride upon her face. She eyed the rest of my body beneath the blanket. "My jaw needs tending," I added as I guided her hand back to my face. Sigrid acted remorseful as she caressed her way along my jawline to my neck. She lingered on the bitemark again.

"Do I need to show you where they belong?" I asked.

Her touch baited me, and I took it. I pulled her arms above her head as I rolled on top of her. She caught her breath when my erection touched her body.

"I did not have this position in mind," she said, squirming her way out of my loosened grip.

"Oh?" I followed.

"How do you intend to make up for kicking me in the face?"

"Like this."

Sigrid crawled beneath the covers. Fabric shifted when she slithered her way to my lower abdomen. Warm wetness kissed my tip then spread down to the base. Her tongue tortured me by twirling along the sides. I leaned back into the pillows, enjoying the way she devoured me. Sharp jolts traveled down my spine with each gurgle and moan from her mouth.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" I gasped as she momentarily took her mouth off my cock.

She responded from beneath the covers, but her voice was too muffled to understand her answer. It hardly mattered since I had the pleasure of enjoying her talents onward.

She returned deeper than before. Now, she engulfed my cock in the deepest part of her mouth. Pressure and warm flesh swaddled me, pulling me away from my body into a world with the gods. More vibrations drummed up my spine. The build-up spilled over, sending tremors through my body.

Sigrid received my cum with a gracious gulp.

"By the gods, you'll be the death of me," I burst as she reemerged from our blankets, wiping the corners of her mouth. I pulled her beneath me once more to continue where we left off last night.

"His Majesty, I have urgent news from Tolkniat." Sabre's pounding startled Sigrid out of her rest.

"Leave us," I ordered.

Sigrid scrambled for something to cover her bare body. She slid into my night tunic she found on the floor while Sabre continuously beat the door. "Get up, Grendel," Sigrid hissed. She dumped my neatly folded clothes on my lap.

"She can wait," I grumbled in her ears, trying to convince her to return to the bed. The pounding continued.

"Someone better be dead," I growled when I opened the door.

"Will he suffice?"

Sabre lifted Deinoth's severed head in the air between us.

Sigrid covered her mouth at the sight of the old King. One eyelid hardened mid-blink, which kept his creepy gaze on us. Flakes of dried blood caked the bottom of his neck along hardened flesh from air exposure. His wrinkled skin dried like newly pressed parchment paper, and what little hair he had left thinned into fine strands. I bounced the head between my hands, examining Deinoth's weight.

"Don't play with it." Sigrid slapped my shoulder.

"Well, Sabre, you outdid yourself," I praised with the head still in my grasp.

She scowled and said, "I didn't have the pleasure. Ivar sent this."

"The Frost Fairy King?" Sigrid said, with raised brows.

Ivar's gift? I snuck a glance at my wife, who was still startled by the corpse's head. This threat would have meant little if I did not have her in my life. War bells were once music to my ears. Now, I had more to lose than a throne. Ivar was not stupid enough to send the head to the wrong nation. Either Deinoth proposed a treaty with him to go against us, or he foolishly attacked the icy fortitude with the hope of getting territory closer to Montver.

Both possibilities left a bitter taste in my mouth.

We met once in passing while our King's discussed treaty plans for our generation. My father died before he had the chance to betray the treaty and take the fairy kingdom. Word of Ivar's brutality toward everyone, even his closest comrades, spread like frost. Many escaped slaves trudged through the frozen terrain seeking freedom in Montver from his frightful nature. Rumor has it that my punishments paled in comparison to the Icy King. But those were just rumors.

But even if it were true, Sigrid may give him some competition.

"Does Ochre know?" Sigrid asked quietly.

Sabre looked away before answering. Only the three of us knew of Ivar's message. Though Deinoth was a terrible father, he was her father, nonetheless. "I'll leave that to your discretion," I said to Sabre after returning the head to her.