2 book of the series
Irvina was always a religious woman. So far North, people believed more than down South. Every one of her decisions was first at least twice consulted with her Seeress. So when the lost raven-haired woman sailed to her shores, i...
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Irvina stared as the sculpted man before her dressed. The flimsy tunic and the trunks did not do him justice. He fiddled with the laces looking into the glass over her dressing table. Even tilting his head unsurely, he was confident. Once he turned towards her, her heart raced. She never felt this nervous and never felt this tightening in her chest, nor the sweaty palms. What the heck were those things she felt in her stomach.
"You're only settling for the night, not going to meet a King." Huffing, he angrily swatted the laces.
"No, but I am in the company of a Queen" —Halfdan smirked at her as he slowly advanced towards her bed— "should I not look good since she abducted me and made me lay in the same bed."
He climbed onto the bed, advancing like a feral animal stalking its prey. His confident purpose was transparent. It was not hard to see that he was dominant as it took only his eyes for her to lower herself onto her back. She gladly opened her legs as he climbed between them. "At first, I was reluctant to be in your clutches but now" —he leaned down his breath mingling with hers— "now I am ready to serve."
Her legs seemed to quiver with the desire that pooled between her legs. The room seemed to heat, and she could feel the hunger sneaking over her body. Was this what Sigrún meant when she said he was her Fate? He growled lowly, not liking that she was not focusing on him before he surged forward. His lips claimed her collarbone, sucking and biting. His lips trailed over her skin like a whisper of wind before reaching her ear. He bit her earlobe and suckled. A startled gasp left her lips. What was the feeling that made her stomach tighten?
He breathed deeply, and she shuddered at his breath, hitting the nape of her neck. Her head rolled, allowing him better access to her flesh. "I know I will be more compliant with my answers if you offer that sweet body of yours." The tips of his fingers traced her nape. As they trailed over the side of her face, she felt enchanted. She wanted him like no other man before. And then hot fury boiled inside her. She was the Queen here, and she dictated how things were going to go. Meeting his eyes straight on, she let a coy smile slip on her lips. Her hands slid behind her head as she pretended to offer herself as a pig on a platter. And then she showed who was the prisoner here.
The dagger glinted as she pulled it swiftly from underneath of her pillows and aimed straight for the thing he was thinking with now. She pulled him towards her with the tying on his trunks and the dagger closer to his flesh. Gazing into his bottomless eyes, she did nothing to hide her smirk.
"Do you need a reminder who is the prisoner here?" He didn't stir, completely calm above her. But those eyes didn't let her out of his sight. They watched still devouring her and in a trance.
"But don't worry, you will be offering your body very soon." Grinning, she removed her knife before tracing her lips over his jawline. He shivered as if only the nip of her teeth could bring him over the edge. He looked pleased only with the trace of her lips. Maybe he felt his soul entwined with hers as much as she. Huffing at the fluttering inside her, she pushed him off.
He sprawled next to her, and a heavy sigh left her lips. His breath came out ragged, and if she didn't know better, it sounded as if he came. Grinning like a maniac, he turned to her. She wanted to demand from him to stop looking at her as if he wanted to eat her. But she liked how his eyes devoured her. Yes, she did and especially the woman parts of her. She turned her back on him and did her best to fall asleep at least for a few hours. Not that she could sleep any longer.
"Mother, what is going on?" She could hear the noise of battle from outside. Her mother and her brother's wife were hidden in her mother's room. Alfhild reached for her hand, and she gave a squeeze in return. Her brother's wife was beautiful, but she wasn't a warrior. Her brother didn't allow her to pick up a weapon saying his wife was too fragile. Now that Irvina thought about it, maybe that was the reason why she came down so easily.
"Get behind the door and don't make a sound." Why was she panicking? Why was everyone fighting, her father wasn't at war with anyone? The woman next to her was shaking, and Irvina grabbed a poker and smiled. She tried to reassure the women around her. After all, she knew how to fight. Yet still a small part of her was feeling like she should run. The door barely stopped the men. The things they put before the door didn't even make them sweat as they pushed them aside. Even her standing before them didn't make them show any mercy as one of them pushed his sword deep into her gut.
Startling awake, she sat up. Her breath was heavy, and she felt cold even though the fireplace was still blazing. Shivering as the sweat poured over her, she kicked the covers aside. She picked up her night robe and tiptoed out of the room while the handsome beast of man snored. She needed quite her throne room offered. Taking her crown, she put it before her before sitting down in the cold room.
The cold didn't really bother her anymore, and then her eyes fixated on the crown. She could only stare as the cold wood of her throne gave her comfort, wrapping her in the power it possed over people. And then she was alone, as always, alone with her drowning thoughts.
