Chapter 19 Aura #2
If he agrees to the demand, Harvart will force his hand to harm her publicly. An act to stir ire with her father, who, thanks to Isabel, likely already believes his Inner Circle member has ulterior motives.
Calder’s hand slips along her back, his thumb grazing her neck before his fingers firmly wrap around her column.
“Gather your men, Harvart.”
Confusion thrums in her veins as Calder guides her into the central room.
I have done nothing wrong!
Laughter dies when they appear. Aura shudders from the indifference in the man clutching her to his side.
Gunni turns away from a group engaged in a boisterous conversation. He trips over himself to reach his Jarl, who leans down and whispers into the ear of his Second.
When he pulls away, Gunni’s face pales. He scrutinizes him as if the Jarl might change his mind. Instead, he shoves Aura forward, her bare feet scraping off the dirty floorboards.
His throne looms closer, and she knows where this will end.
As he pulls her onto the dais, she glances into the crowd and sees half of the waiting townsfolk fleeing. Gunni dances around the tables, tapping men and women on the shoulder, prompting them to scramble to the main double doors.
She wanders along the platform, recalling how her life changed the last time she stood atop such a stage at the Farewell Feast, when Jarl Guy took her for a walk, thrusting her onto a path to Skalor.
Calder slumps onto the throne behind her with a grunt, his long legs splayed. He gestures with two fingers for her to come closer.
“What is happening?” She is unable to meet his gaze. The mere thought of his disapproval cuts deeply.
Without acknowledging her fear, he tugs her across his lap until her head is down and her behind is up. One hand clutches her upper arm closest to his chest while the other brushes along her inner thigh.
“I am ready for this, Jarl Calder!” Harvart strides out and flops into a seat between two elegantly adorned lords.
Arguing at the front doors draws Aura’s attention to her sister, who has her hands on her hips and points an accusatory finger at Gunni’s face.
Even from the throne, she can hear Thora’s aggression. “...You get my little sister the fuck out of there, or I’ll gut you like a stuck pig!... no, fuck you, Gunni!”
He shoves her outside and slams the doors shut, leaving Calder and Aura alone, along with a dozen of Harvart’s men and the Lord himself.
Uncertainty quivers over the Princess, who can sense the Iss Drengr’s coiled muscles beneath her body, much like a predator considering its prey.
But the question is, which prey is he to devour? The lords or Aura?
He dangles a scrap of black fabric before her eyes. She hardly has time to process it before he secures it around her head, obscuring her sight.
His rough fingertips caress her cheeks, gathering her curls away from her face. “I have you.” His voice is a distant whisper.
He is not upset with me?
The sound of crackling between her wrists signals her cuffs fusing in his seidr ice, quickly followed by her ankles.
He envelops her in a foreboding sense of peace. To settle her racing thoughts, she focuses on the whispers and thunks of the pewter flagons within the longhouse. The thud of her heart increases as she senses something looming above her.
And then Calder's fingertips circle against her clit.
Despite the leering crowd, his rough fingertips evoke soft moans from the Princess. Lazily, he pleases her in a manner so passive that she wonders if she is imagining his touch.
“What is this, Iss Drengr?” Lord Harvart shouts. “Are we to watch you finger the girl?”
Harvart’s complaints waiver as if he is shivering. “You,” he commands, likely to one of his men, “throw a few more logs on the fire. It’s as cold as a wench’s tit in here.”
Like in the Blackwood Forest, Calder’s touch feels distant, as if he is not present in the moment. Still, he is masterful at arousing her body in a way that pushes her to the brink. As she teeters on the edge, she emits a low gasp in anticipation of her release.
That he denies.
She squeezes her thighs together in frustration. Again, Calder’s fingers find their way between her thighs. His erotic movements are slow and methodical.
“This has been fun, but I want to see some real punishment. Or I am going to fuck the bitch.” Harvart chatters through his teeth.
She utters a choked wail as, again, Calder lifts his hand at the final crest of her orgasm.
His hand relinquishes its hold on her arm, tilting her head back by her curls. She holds her breath, awaiting his next maneuver.
A yelp wrings out of her chest as his hand smacks her behind. The firm strike is like a shock to her system. He spanks her again and again, leaving her backside stinging. When he returns to her clit she can hear her arousal.
“I must warm her up for you.” Calder’s voice reverberates in his chest.
“Good,” Harvard coughs as if plunging through a frozen wasteland. “I am. Wanting to. Try her out.”
Calder pulls away, denying her another orgasm.
Damn him! He is intentionally keeping me from reaching my release.
A helpless groan bursts from her lips at his sadistic punishment that she does not deserve. Her squeals carry to the rafters when his frigid hand connects with her behind for another set of repetitive assaults.
Harvart and his men erupt in laughter at her discomfort.
This time, Calder’s fingers find her entrance. The shock of his frosty fingers is even more startling than when striking against her ass.
His frigid contact is strangely refreshing considering the searing heat of her disgraced humiliation on display to these wretched men.
Cold air nips at her exposed flesh, causing her to shiver.
“You are so wet for me, my filthy girl.” His low moan, against the shell of her ear, shivers down her spine. “Beg for your release.”
Her hands curl into fists. She refuses to give him the satisfaction of asking for an orgasm even if her pussy aches for it.
Calder’s beard tickles against her cheek. “Who is in charge here, baby girl?”
She bites down on her lower lip, shaking her head.
He tisks at her refusal and continues denying her release over and over until tears of frustration trickle down her cheeks. Two of his fingers toy with her entrance, forcing her to strangle a moan.
“Who is in control?”
She whimpers his name.
“That’s it, beautiful girl. Scream my name. Tell them who owns you.”
She cries out as he teeters her on the fringe of bliss.
“No one forces my hand.” His teeth graze her neck, arousing her breathy gasps. “Beg me!” He bellows.
She hangs her head in defeat as her quivering lips part and beg of their own accord.
Instead of assenting and granting her that delicious release, he rips his fingers away, leaving her sobbing from the ache.
He tisks again, roughly tapping her cheek. “Not good enough.” He slaps her behind, jerking her forward on his lap. “Scream for me, Princess. Beg me to release you.”
“Please! Calder!” Hot tears fall along her cheeks, soaking the blindfold.
She is a needy mess, gripping the side of the throne for support and quivering with a desire that threatens to tear her apart.
Instead of an orgasm, he lifts her into his muscled arms, setting her onto the throne before removing her blindfold.
She blinks back as the light floods her vision. Calder’s massive form blocks her view of their unwelcome, albeit eerily silent, audience.
“You are mine.” He takes her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Say it for me, baby girl!”
“I am yours.” She presses her back into the soft fur pelts of the throne as her heart thunders. Tension lingers in the air, and she is terrified of what will transpire when it snaps.
His fingers deftly untie his trousers, and her gaze flicks back to his stoic face as he removes his hardened cock. She swallows back the uncertainty of his girth and length, hating that her first time experiencing him will be before these assholes.
“Calder?” she questions, only for his thumb to slip into her mouth, pressing down onto her tongue, coaxing her mouth open. She relaxes her jaw muscles, eying the tip of his cock pushing between her lips.
Her eyes squeeze shut as she focuses on calming her nerves as he strikes the back of her throat. Aura gags violently, sputtering against him.
“That’s a good girl.” He brushes aside her curls as he thrusts in and out of her mouth, cautious of only giving her what she can take.
“Eyes on me, Princess.” He commands, and she flicks her teary gaze to his icy one.
Pride fills his features as he looks down upon her helpless form.
After several moments, he finally withdraws, and his hand jerks his shaft with an angry ferocity.
He grasps the front of her dress and rips it down the middle. Cold air creeps along her exposed skin, leaving her with goosebumps.
Clutching her hair roughly, he tilts her head back until she thunks against the back of the throne. Before she can process his intentions, he unloads his hot seed all over her face and bare chest.
His cum leaves her a sticky shivering mess.
Of all people to do such a thing, why did it have to be him? His action leaves her dirty and demeaned.
But, as he stuffs away his cock and faces the crowd, she realizes his intentions.
The Drengr ownership mark…
If it got back to her father…
She shakes her head, not entertaining that thought. Besides, none of those men are Drengr.
Then why would he paint me with his seed here and now?
She cannot decide if she is unsettled or aroused beyond imagining. She wipes away the cum near her eyes in time to see Calder thump down off of the raised dais.
She sucks in a gulp of air at the grisly scene laid out amongst the long tables.
Blood and gore pervade much of her life with the Drengr Army. Yet, Calder’s disturbed power never ceases to force her to question everything.
The dozen men and Lord Harvart sit in various poses, all bearing the same incapacitated, horrified expression. She glances around, realizing jagged ice shards burst from the floor and ceiling.
Only the throne remains untouched by the frost.
The Iss Drengr paces through the long tables amidst an eerie silence. Frost covers the lips and limbs of Harvart’s thugs, reducing their movements to their twitchy eyes.
“Before I send each of you wastes of skin to the Abyss.” His voice booms through the longhouse. “I have a message you sorry lot will deliver to your god.” He pauses next to a man whose fingers he casually snaps off. Even from the throne, she can hear a slight, muffled scream.
“Tell the God of Power.” He strides beside another man and slams his fist against this frozen body, shattering it into pieces. Only a bloodied neck and head are left rolling across the slick floor. “That Princess Aura belongs to me.”
He kicks a third man onto his back. Muffled wails echo off the walls.
“If Makt thinks he can use her for his despicable plans, I will storm the Abyss and slay him myself.”
Once at the front of the stage, he raises his right hand and slowly closes it into a fist. The sound of ice cracking echoes in the longhouse as he banishes each soul to the Abyss.
She remains silent as he sweeps back to the throne. Questions swirl like a storm in her mind, but the intensity of his gaze holds her hostage.
When he towers over her bare, cum covered-chest, he does not order her to stand. Instead, he kneels before her. With that frigid gaze burning with thirst, he tugs her legs over his massive shoulders.
Has anyone ever dismantled the realms for me before? Not to defend their honor, but mine?
His fierce fixation silences her thoughts. Her heart rate stops right before his mouth ravages her pussy as if he were a man dying of thirst.
His mouth wrecks passionate cries from Aura, who thrusts her hips against his tongue.
Every stroke through her wet lips is the satisfaction she has been craving from him.
His beard and mustache brush against her sensitive skin in a glorious, rough sensation that leaves her panting. It is only a matter of time before…
Calder pierces her entrance with two of his thick fingers, hitting the soft pleasure point inside.
She explodes.
Her body convulses, and all thoughts dissipate as he wrenches out the most violent, full-body orgasm she has ever felt. The waves of bliss slam against her over and over until her shuddering ceases.
She stares blankly at the ceiling beams, hardly aware that he has her cradled in his arms and carries her back to the suite.
“As much as I enjoyed playing with you,” he kisses her forehead, “this was not a punishment, baby girl.”
Her lashes fall closed, and she hums contentedly.
He remains silent as she collects herself in the post-orgasm haze, which seems to open the floodgates of her thoughts.
“How am I expected to continue along this road when I barely know who I am and what is expected of me?”
A warm cloth brushes against her face, cleaning his cum from her skin.
“Life is cruel to those who seek goodness.” He wipes his release from her breasts. “Part of life’s journey is discovering who we have become and who we’ve been all along. Whether we wish to acknowledge those pieces of us or not.”
She licks her lips as she dries her traitor tears.
“Aura Sigvidsson-Redwood,” He growls her name with such devoted affection she feels her heart skip a beat. “For now, I need you to be someone you are not. Not for long. Until I can safely guide you toward your true fate. Can you do that for me, Princess?”
She nods without looking at him.
“Beautiful girl,” he tips her chin up, “I require your words.”
“You said you didn’t want me. What happened on the throne? I do not know your intentions with me anymore.”
He joins her on the bed. “My intentions are always to protect you.” He encircles her in his arms, clutching her as if she might vanish. “I do not wish to be away from you. But, when I am near you, I cannot control my seidr.”
She sighs into the cozy bedding. “It was calm upon the throne.”
“I will not be the reason harm befalls you.”
They lay in silence. She poises her ear over his chest to hear the distant thumping of his heart. A silent reminder that he is a mortal man. No matter what he has done, he is not the demon that so many fear him to be.
Just as her lashes flutter to a close, she can hear his steady breathing as the warrior chief, barely able to find sleep within his own bed, clutches her as they fall together into a dreamless slumber.