The Isbjørn

The Isbjørn

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[Completed Story ✔] Daire was used to being owned, by Wayland none the less; this has been his life for the last five years. Now, he belonged to no one. This lasted for all of four hours... In ancient times there lived Diarmuid Moynihan, an Isbjørn who lived the simplest life he could... outside of his homeland, Iaran'talamh. Under the hard hand of con-man Wayland Wainwright, he traveled as a theif and hustler. But his contentment would be disturbed when their robbery goes awry and Daire's third offense has him ripped from the ownership of his master. A curious man and his strange companion would be quick to purchase him from the crown where Daire would reluctantly leave, unaware that not was all as it seemed with his traveling companions or the world at large. ~~ GOING BACK AND EDITING NOW but nothing about the story will change. Happy reading!!
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Askeladd prides himself on being unreadable, yet the moment someone catches the glint beneath his mask, he scrambles to hide what's already been seen. Fiadh wants little more than to stir her pots in peace, seasoning life with spice and a hint of poison. Instead, men keep tripping into her path, mistaking her patience for permission. Sneak peek: "But you've been keeping something from me, haven't you, Fiadh." "I don't know-" "That wasn't me asking, that was me stating the obvious. But since you seem eager for questions... here's one." What a prick. Again, Askeladd's eyes cut directly toward me, but there was no humor in them. "Do you take me for a boy to toy with?" Shit... his thoughts were aligning with mine. My face went blank. "Of course not." "Hm. Could've fooled me. Let's be plain, Fiadh, and I expect the same from you." His eyes narrowed. "I'm no boy for you to play your little games with, dangling the promise of your skirts like a carrot. I'm a man. And like any man, I've got needs. Keep testing and denying them, and I start wondering if the game's worth playing at all." (Slowbuild) (Slowburn)

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