How to rule a king

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Alexei:

"What do you mean MOTHER MARY has never written one good song in their whole career? Have you even listened to them? If I ever see TT again I will tell him what his so called 'friend' thinks of his work."

I tried to hold back a laugh as Ronja kept on rambling about how fantastic MOTHER MARY's music was. She was so easily stirred up, all one needed to do was to find something she loved and voice one tiny comment against it, and you would have her all flustered up while she desperately tried to convince you how mislead you were.

"I didn't say they were horrible, just that they aren't the best band I've ever listened too, Милая мая."

She pushed herself onto her elbows as she lifted her head from its position on my bare chest, before sending daggers at me. Ever since we had taken Vasyli to bed in the bedroom we all slept in last night, we had been laying in the king-sized bed in the other bedroom of our private quarters on board. This one was completely held in dark colors, meeting my taste for once. I preferred the dark over the light in every choice I ever had to make and would ever have to make. Well, except for when it came to my family's souls. I never wanted to see them tainted by my gruesome lifestyle.

So here I was, lying in a black wooden bed underneath the dark grey sheets with my young wife only dressed in one of my shirts on top of me, while her fingers gently traced the scars on my body. The warmth radiating from her small form and her gentle touch could have lulled me to sleep by now, but she simply wouldn't shut up about TT and his stupid band. Normally I would have enjoyed her talking to me about anything being on her mind. Like the talk we had shared when I had driven us home from our "wedding" to the wolf's den, while she had tried to explain to me why it would be unfair of her to fall asleep while I had to drive the car.

But this talk we had right now while being so close was different. The second she realized I was only teasing her with my "hate" for MOTHER MARY she switched our roles in this game as she started telling me how overly hot TT was. Even though I would give her an angry warning grunt at every comment about TT's otherworldly beautiful face, it was only a question of seconds before she started talking about him again.

"...I mean, have you ever seen skin this flawless? I wonder which skin care products he's using? His facial skin looks softer than a baby's backside...maybe the two of you should have a spa day together, you could learn some things from him."

Without a warning her left hand left my chest reaching out for my face as she traced the part of my facial scar that was hidden by a few days' worth of stubble. I never had cared much about my looks, I was a fighter not a rockstar. Scars came naturally with my profession as well as a never fully healed broken nose. Until now I never wasted a thought over my physical appearance besides looking as scary and gruesome as I possibly could. Of course, having your front decorated by more scars than numbers my precious son could count probably wasn't the most appealing sight, let's not even start with the lashing marks all over my back, but  such trivial thoughts about myself had never crossed my mind before, since all I had ever cared about was a healthy and strong body, not one crazy fans would drool over. But now, with this woman in my arms, I all of a sudden felt self-conscious. I wasn't so sure anymore if me being healthy and strong was good enough for her. What if she preferred some young, perfectly tanned, scar-free, blonde surfer boy warming her bed instead of me? Would I have it in me to allow such a thing? I couldn't even imagine sharing her with any other man without feeling anger (and my dinner) rise inside of me. Even though I could never hurt her again, I wasn't opposed of the idea to skin any possible lover alive my wife might have one day. Then again, I knew I would give in to her every wish, no matter if her allowing another man in her bed would mentally destroy me. Ronja must have sensed my rising anger as she stopped her gentle strokes on my cheek, searching my eyes for a hint.