Chapter 12 Calder
CALDER
Toftlund City, Treland
Aura Sigvidsson-Redwood is determined to destroy me.
After her spectacle in the bedroom and now coming undone in his lap, she seems stubbornly resolved to break the control he has worked tirelessly to construct.
It is bloody torture.
Entering Toftlund does little to mitigate Aura’s scent, which seems to be a permanent fixture in his mind and on his fingers. He almost relinquished his self-control and claimed the Princess’ body back in the mud along the forest floor.
Why did the gods craft such a perfect woman for me to ensure she is entirely unattainable?
Calder growls low, still savoring the sensation of her warm, wet pussy clenching tightly against his thick fingers.
He salivates at the mere thought of seizing the young woman and devouring her in a side alley of the city.
What he wouldn’t give to consume her moans as he wrecks them from her curves.
All the while, she begs him to stake his ownership.
Those gorgeous eyes, intent on drowning him in a sea of sinful longing, were not what had sealed her fate with him.
It is every fucking aspect of her.
She embodies fiery passion, even as she offers gentle kindness to the people she loves most in this world. Her determination is fiercely inspiring, as if reminding him that some good remains in this life worth protecting.
Above all, she possesses no fear in the presence of the Iss Drengr.
As they trudged into the woods, he had a fleeting idea that she was about to allow him to look deeper into her soul–something no one had ever cared to do.
Dammit, his long-dormant inner feral predator has awoken with a primal need to safeguard the Princess.
When that precious woman's eyes brightened and stature altered at the sight of a damned weasel, I forgot every reason why I evolved into a cold-hearted bastard.
And then she offered him her drawing.
He had yet to decide how to handle her, but there’s no leaving her side now. He will annihilate any fuck who crosses her.
As the late afternoon sun burns overhead, her gait holds a light bounce to it that accents her thick ass in a manner that stirs his cock. The ache in his groin since his damned arrival in the country has reached a height that has the Iss Drengr wild with a thirst for that voluptuous young woman.
“While we are here,” she pauses at the top of the street they need to venture down, “I need to collect a gown for Mum that she had altered.” A sheepish expression crosses her features. “I am several days late in fulfilling the request, and today I received a nudge.”
Calder smirks at her innocent admission. “The decision to journey into the marketplace occurred in the forest because of my needs. When would you pick up her dress if we didn’t come today?”
Despite the shouts, the rattling of wagon wheels, and other street noises, he can still hear the faint increase of her precious heart rate as he steps closer.
“Forgive me. I have been busy providing a tour of Toftlund to a Jarl of Skalor.” She smirks.
“I enjoy having a personal guide to Toftlund.” He hungrily admires her curves with his gaze.
As precious as she is, I still want to bind her arms behind her back and pound her until she cries my name.
“Jarl Avardsson!” She glances around as if he should care about how unhinged she drives him. “We can continue the tour after the market.” She winks.
How cute. She believes she can choose to spend time with me.
She clutches the new leather notebook to her chest like a cherished possession and joyfully bounces along the street.
Under any other circumstance, he would have dragged her back.
However, the street has minimal traffic, the seamstress is only four shops away, and, more importantly, the only tanner he trusts besides himself may still hold animosity after all these winters.
Moreover, he is not yet prepared to introduce Aura to the evils of his world.
“Aura!” He calls out. “You will wait outside the tannery once you have Queen Avina’s dress.”
The wicked smirk she gives him over her shoulder has him itching to chase her down and mark that pretty little neck with his mouth. He begrudgingly enters the tannery only when she vanishes into the seamstress shop.
Calder glances around the space. “Hello?” he grunts.
A wizened man shuffles through a back door. “All orders are placed on Mondays and Wednesdays…” He drops the rag in his hands as recognition flares in his features. “By the gods!” His slumped back straightens. “What are you doing here?”
“I am here for the Conclave, Balli. King Sigvid invited Skalor.” He crosses his arms, leaning against a support beam.
Balli turns away through the back door and orders his apprentices to leave them alone. When he returns, there is sadness in his gaze. “Perhaps I should alter my opinion of His Highness for trusting in you.”
“Say what you mean, Balli.” He dislikes how much he sounds like Sigvid, but this suspicion will linger far longer than needed if he allows it.
“Did you have the reunion with that despicable mother you always wanted?” Balli shuffles across the floor until his nose hits halfway up his chest. “After everything Avard sacrificed to raise you in Treland, how dare you abandon his dream!” If the older man could spout fumes, he would fill the room with smoke.
“And now, you stride back here twice the size in every direction.” Moisture brims in his eyes.
Avard is Calder’s greatest regret.
His father had such high hopes for his only child, only for him to throw them away and return to Lavinia.
What would he say now?
Calder drags two chairs across the floor.
“Sit, Balli.” He gestures to one as he flops into the other.
“You must understand I never wanted to set foot in Skalor again. After the Draemonium surfaced in the War for Treland, Sigvid asked that I collect information in my homeland.” He sighs, scratching the back of his head.
“And that’s where everything went to shit. ”
He briefly recounts the arduous twenty winters since leaving Treland after the war, struggling to meet Balli’s horrified gaze. He overshares about the time he was under Lavinia’s manipulation.
This conversation is precisely why I did not wish the Princess to accompany me.
One day, she will know the truth. And gods willing, he will be long gone.
I would rather never look upon her again than face the agony of her condemnation.
Balli sniffles through the story. “Why would you not listen to me? Why did you not remain in your home?” His questions are rhetorical, regardless of how deeply they sting.
“My path is in Skalor now. I defeated the Draemonium threat, and now it is my fate to end Lavinia’s reign.”
Balli stands, shaking his head. “Your powers may be abnormal, but you cannot kill a god.”
“He was a demon.” Calder growls.
Balli waves his hand dismissively as he shuffles to a cabinet and pours two beaten mugs from a dusty bottle.
“I don’t know about the existence of the gods, Calder.
” He hands him a mug of the most potent mead he has ever smelled.
“I’ll bow to them, along with my King and Queen, but what good is it to live in dread of their wrath?
Do you hear me?” He settles back into his seat with a creak of his joints.
“What I do know is that mortal hands cannot kill them, no matter how powerful.”
Calder sips the mead, staring blankly at the floor, lost in thoughts of Makt and the screams as he froze every villager of Chillbury, fleeing from his rage.
I didn’t kill a whole damn village to allow that sadistic god to be still alive.
“How would I know if he was truly defeated?” He strokes his beard absently.
“Your uncertainty is enough for me to question.” Balli slams back his mead, barely affected by the alcohol’s potency.
“Avard was also sent to Skalor for damned Treland diplomacy. King Thord hoped he would broker a trade deal with the bitch Lavinia, never realizing she would take his young emissary to her bed.”
Calder had heard the story enough times from his father to be able to retell it.
“He abandoned Skalor, risking his own neck to drag your sorry ass far from the clutches of that manipulative bitch. After throwing away all of your father’s efforts to keep her from using you, why did you really return to Treland?
Surely the King would have been content with a letter or your Second?
And even you question the demise of your demon god. ”
I came home to protect a princess from being sacrificed unnecessarily by my mother.
“King Sigvid would not have accepted anyone else but my presence here. I came at his summons.” Calder throws back his mead, which hits hard in the back of his throat.
Balli shoves his chair aside and places a wrinkled hand on Calder’s shoulder. “It's been a while, and you don't have to trust me with all your secrets. Now,” he claps, “what can I get for you? I doubt you showed up solely for a trip down memory lane.”
Calder leaves the tannery, pocketing replacement leather for Freyja’s handle. Crafting the book for Aura exhausted his stash.
He glances up and down the street.
Dammit, I told her to meet me here.
He steps forward and kicks something on the ground. He crouches to find her sketchbook discarded in the dust of the cobblestone street. As he brushes off the dirt from the cover, his jaw tightens.
He shoves the sketchbook into his satchel slung over his shoulder and darts down the crowded street. Stopping at an intersection, he glances left to right, desperately looking for those copper curls.
She still can't be at the seamstress's store.
Before he can enter the shop, he spots a quill discarded by the corner of the building.
He sprints a few blocks to find her thin cloak embossed with the nautilus shell tossed on the ground near the center of town.
Think, you know this city.