Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Bjorn
Bjorn did his best not to look quite as sore as he was. He remembered the pain of piercings, but he’d never pierced his cock before. After all, those were only done when a troll was certain he had found his bride.
Perhaps this had been a mistake. But as they both staggered back toward his mother’s cottage, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. The right thing to do was to give this a shot. His mother’s advice was sound, but even more than that, he wanted this to work.
In the labyrinth, it had been hard to believe anything could be done about his future.
He’d given up on the idea of living because there hadn’t been a future to have.
Fighting like he had, it had been inevitable he would make a mistake.
The time he had been in there had been spent during his youngest years.
He’d been a good fighter, and he’d stayed alive.
But he’d known those times would dwindle.
Someone would’ve eventually fought better than him, or the king would’ve given him an impossible task that would’ve killed him.
Now he was free. He wasn’t in those pits with no future and no hope. Perhaps he had feared hope for too long and now he didn’t have to fear it anymore.
With Astrid under his arm, he felt like hope maybe wasn’t that terrifying. Now, all he could do was pray that what he could offer her was enough to change her mind about the bonding. If he was lucky.
They made it back to his mother’s house, and he groped for the door. Opening it while leaning perhaps a little too hard on the hinges, he gestured for her to go inside. “Please.”
“What is this, Bjorn? We really need to get something cold for your... your...” The adorable little thing couldn’t even say the word, and that made him a little concerned for their future, but he was a patient man. He could figure this out.
If he had to wait a hundred years and still only get to taste her, then it was a life worth living.
Astrid headed in before him and then paused in the doorway, her mouth dropping open.
Bjorn had made sure they could share this moment without a single person interrupting them.
He’d shown his mother the dress he’d worked on for a good thirty-six hours, and then asked her to give them some privacy.
She’d been all too happy to do so, saying she’d stay with a close friend while they figured things out.
Even Bjorn was surprised he’d come up with a dress that pretty.
The woven pattern created a bodice that would wrap around her waist and cup her breasts in the same path he wanted his hands to follow.
The strands of silk seemed to glisten even from where he stood, with only dim sunlight to illuminate them.
The skirt would fall from her hips in a straight, silken line, stunning in quality and woven so skillfully that even he wasn’t sure where the pattern started and ended.
It had taken him hours to figure out how to do that kind of weaving.
But the best parts were the tiny crystals he’d added to each part, just like his mother had done all those years ago. Frozen water drops in the form of smoothed crystals that he’d carved out with his claws. His hands still ached from the work.
“What is this?” Astrid asked.
“It’s for you.”
“Where did you get a dress like that?”
He could feel his cheeks heat. “I made it. For you.”
The stunned expression on her face was worth all the work he’d put in. She looked back and forth between him and the dress, clearly trying to match the man to the creation. “You... made it?”
“That’s where I’ve been.” He leaned against the door frame, trying his best to focus on this conversation over the throbbing between his legs.
But still, all of this was worth the pain and the work.
“A troll husband does more than just provide jewelry and protection. Gifts are a large part of who we are. Handmade gifts.”
“I didn’t know you could... could...”
“I had forgotten how to weave, but then I remembered,” he interrupted. He was feeling a little awkward with her praise. “Try it on. I’d like to see if it fits.”
Then he headed back outside, closing the door to temptation.
The longer he was with her, the more he wanted to see of her.
Just a few days gone from her side and already his mind had wandered to dangerous places.
He wanted to know what it would look like as she slid that ugly dress off her shoulders.
Would she blush knowing he was watching?
It was a twisted part of him that even wanted to watch. Trolls and humans rarely mixed, even though trolls often needed humans to create children that were stronger in magic. But it wasn’t often that the human woman wished to be with the troll husband.
If they ever bonded.
He knew the history of their people, the torment they often found themselves in.
He knew without a doubt that this relationship between them had flaws even he could not control.
Tempting each other like this would only end in heartbreak, and yet he was willing to have his heart broken if he got a few minutes with her.
Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention as a pair of blood witches approached. They were elderly women, even frailer than the usual sight of a blood witch. Twins, he realized as he looked them over. A rarity among his people.
The two old women sat down on the logs outside his mother’s home, stretching their legs and massaging their thighs.
They both wore traditional clothing, which he hadn’t expected.
The long red fabric was threadbare, a testament to the many times they had worn the ceremonial garb.
Though the threads still clung to their shoulders, the long skirts had been torn multiple times, revealing their thin legs.
The charcoal coloring of their skin was broken only by the raised strips of scarring that looked like the pattern of waves.
“Svala,” one said, and then pointed to the other. “And Lykke.”
“It is my honor to meet you,” he replied gravely, only to see more women joining them.
These two were clearly bone readers. The bones rattling on their dresses were in patterns made to make it easy for them to read the bones that twisted against their skin in reaction to those around them.
One was burnt orange in color, the other a light blue that rivaled the sky.
They were young women, far younger than he’d seen bone readers.
But each of them wore necklaces of a different creature.
One was a snake, the other appeared to be a rat.
They must have been renowned readers, because he didn’t expect to see them sitting with ancient blood witches like they were.
And last were two smoke readers—his mother and another, a new mother herself.
He was stunned to see the smoke reader with skin the color of pale moonlight and her silver child on her hip.
He hadn’t seen a baby troll in such a long time.
The little one had plump cheeks and bright eyes, along with the tiniest tusks he’d ever seen.
The two of them sat on the third log in front of his mother’s fire pit, staring at him expectantly.
He had no idea what was going on.
“Mother?” he asked, his voice perhaps a little gruff. “Why are all of you here?”
“Light the fire for us, my son.”
Of course she wouldn’t answer him. When did any of their people answer questions?
He tried not to grumble under his breath as he worked on lighting the fire pit, trying his best not to wince and then have them ask why he seemed in pain. The last conversation Bjorn wanted to have with his mother was to tell her that he’d pierced his own cock and that it was sore.
Thankfully, the fire lit quickly, and he could sit down on the last remaining log. Nerves bit at him. He had wanted this moment to be special between him and Astrid. The dress was meant to be a gift that he had made for no reason other than to see her smile. Now, it felt a bit like an ambush.
It was too late for him to change anything or to usher the ladies away. The door opened and out stepped Astrid and he...
He forgot how to speak.
The dress clung to her curves in all the ways he would have dreamt, but also now wanted to hide from the sight of others.
The silver threading looked like gossamer.
The stones glinted in little flickers that made the eye dance all over her form.
She’d let her hair down, so it flowed over her shoulders, melding into the silver of the gown until he was enchanted by the goddess who stood before him.
He was unworthy of even a moment of her time. She was beyond beautiful, stunning, glorious, and he was an animal wallowing in the muck begging for a ray of her attention.
The troll women around him hummed out appreciative breaths. The one with the child said, “Well done, Bjorn. I remembered your weaving, but I didn’t know you could do this.”
His mother agreed, “He was always talented.”
One of the blood witches, Svala, he thought, said, “Now that is a witch if I’ve ever seen one. There are few like her, I’d guess. Lif, take some of that smoke and see what the rest of us can see.”
So that was what they were doing. All these women had gathered together to peer into Astrid’s potential magic without asking if she was actually willing to do so. Meddling beasts. They were going to make this so difficult for him.
Astrid walked over to his side, standing right in front of him in the dress he had made, and watched the proceedings of the women before him. “Did you want me to perform in some ceremony?”
He couldn’t help himself. Bjorn placed his hand on her hip, turning her to look at him and only him. He wanted to see her for a few moments. Just to look at what masterpiece he had created with time and energy. “You look...” He didn’t have the words for it.
A pink blush spread on her cheeks, just as he had hoped it would. “You are too kind, Bjorn.”
“Do you like it?”