Taming The Hellhound (Sons of Odin #1)

Prologue

Skull

"Prepare him for the Blood Eagle."

When Skull heard the order of his king, Ragnar, a devilish smile instantly made it's way towards his lips.

He can finally feel alive again. He can finally—fucking— feel alive!

With so much anticipation and unrestraint desire to shed blood, his bloodied fingers made it's way towards his belt to retrieve his favourite knives. His prized possession had been unused for days, much to his chagrin.

These cold beautiful steels were meant to be used if not every minute, then everyday of his miserable life, carving flesh and instilling fear to men who wronged his king and his brothers.

They were used to take life when it was due. And not using them for days, agitated him to no end.

It will end now. Yes. Yes. This it. Ragnar finally lets his torturer run wild. He will finally taste blood and hear the anguish cries of his victim.

The devil inside him laughed to no end. He lived for these moments. Torturing and maiming made him feel alive just as what killing did. Every cry for help and the pain of his victim's face as he drags his beautiful knives slowly down their bodies gave him a purpose. The stench of blood of his family's enemies—his lifeline.

"No...please...No! I—I swear...I told you everything I know! I swear by my armour ring! I swear to Tyr and Odin! Please—"

The cries of their prisoner sounded muffled in his ear. He smiled at that and forced himself to walk a little bit faster to reach his prey.

Skull could only imagine the horror that he would see in that man's eyes as he cut his body parts piece by piece while he's still alive. Or better yet, if Skull would really follow what his king Ragnar commanded, their very much conscious victim will have his ribs severed from the spine and his lungs pulled through to be eaten by their eagles. It was the ultimate torture for traitorous people like him.

The hellhound laughed when he reach the pathetic man's side.

"Please, Ragnar. I am still your brother!"

Skull spit blood into Svein, his king's younger brother by blood, Earl to their New York chapter, a backstabbing piece of fuck and shit and the one who's responsible for having another brother—Roth, dead.

King Ragnar trusted his little brother too much...much to Skull's disapproval. He knew Svein would betray them. He saw it in the way the traitor countered every decision of Ragnar and his every failed attempts to start a coup. He smelled Svein's traitorous stench the first time he joined a raid with him.

He fucking warned his king about his suspicions, but the young Ragnar was too stubborn and blind by the kinship he shared with that piece of fuck that he just laughed at  his hellhound's frantic warning.

Ha! So where it all got them? Their most important gun deals gone, the most powerful Mexican gang and Russian Mafia in the tristate area ganged up to ambush them and the best tracker in the fucking world of theirs was dead!

Roth died because of a traitor!

Skull started to become restless. His want to tear off Svein's face using only his teeth intensified.

"Brother?!" Ragnar's voice suddenly boomed in the confines of the abandoned factory. All the other brothers present shifted nervously for the fear that their king's wrath would later soon extend to them. All except for the torturer—the hellhound.

Nothing could fazed Skull, not even Ragnar or any other Earl of all the Motorcycle clubs he knew. He was only restless on his feet because of him, growing impatient as the clock ticked away. He wanted to torture the traitor so fucking bad that his body shook because of his restrain.