14. LAYLA
Fourteen
LAYLA
The training yard is covered in fresh snow. I warm up alone, trying to ignore the eyes on me. Soren’s warriors still watch me like I’m a curiosity.
Erik approaches. The tall blond warrior Soren threw against a wall. We haven’t spoken since.
“Your Majesty,” he says, bowing slightly. Stiff. Formal.
“Erik. Come to spar?”
“If you’ll have me.”
We circle. He’s bigger, stronger, with reach that should give him every advantage. But I’ve been training since I was six. I know leverage.
He comes at me hard. I duck, sweep his leg, and throw him. He hits the mat with a grunt.
“Again,” I say.
We exchange blows, his heavy and powerful, mine fast and precise. I land a hit to his ribs. I dodge his counter and throw him again.
The other warriors watch now.
Erik stands, snow dusting his hair, and something shifts in his expression. Respect. Reluctant, but real.
“You’re good,” he admits. “Better than good.”
“I know.”
A ghost of a smile. “The king chose well.”
Soren appears at the edge of the yard, arms crossed. Erik sees him and bows deeper.
“Your Majesty.”
“Erik.” Soren’s voice is flat. “You treating my queen with respect?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. She’s… formidable.”
“Damn right she is.” Soren crosses the yard, ignoring everyone else. He stops in front of me, his eyes dragging over my body. “You done here, wife?”
“I was thinking of going another round…”
“No.” He catches my wrist, his thumb brushing my pulse. “You’re coming with me. Now.”
“Soren…”
He leans close, his mouth at my ear. “You’re driving me insane. You’re wet. I can smell it. And if I don’t get inside you in the next five minutes, I’m going to bend you over that fence in front of everyone.”
My pussy clenches. I can feel wetness dampening my shorts.
“Fine,” I say, trying to sound put-upon. “Lead the way, husband.”
He practically drags me from the yard. Erik watches us go, and I catch the smallest hint of a smile.
Soren pulls me into a storage closet, shelves of linens and candles, and slams the door.
“You were flirting with him,” he growls, yanking my shorts down.
“I was sparring with him.”
“Same thing.” He frees his cock, already hard. “You’re mine, Layla. No one else looks at you. No one else touches you.”
He pushes inside me in one thrust, lifting me against the wall. I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist.
“Possessive bastard,” I moan.
“Damn right.” He fucks me hard, the shelves rattling. “Gonna fuck you until the only name you remember is mine.”
“Soren…”
“Louder.”
“Soren! Fuck, Soren, yes!”
He comes with a roar, flooding me, his teeth sinking into my shoulder. I follow, clenching around him.
After, he holds me against the wall, still inside me.
“I love you,” he whispers. “So fucking much it scares me.”
“I know.” I kiss him softly. “I love you too. Even when you’re a jealous caveman.”
“Especially then.”
He carries me back to our chambers, his cum leaking down my thighs. The servants scatter. I bury my face in his neck and smile.
I’m his. He’s mine.
And Erik respects me now. That’s a win.