Chapter Two
Fenric
T he sun isn’t even up yet, and already the stronghold is buzzing. I roll my shoulders, stretching out the stiffness from the night. My body’s ready. I'm the youngest Captain this stronghold’s ever seen, and I never let anyone forget it.
“Try not to fall flat on your horns today, old man,” I call to Rokan, one of the senior warriors polishing his axe nearby.
He snorts. “Bold words for a Calf with barely two seasons under his belt.”
I give him a cocky grin. “Bold words are all I have until the tournament starts. Then, it’ll be your pride bruised, not mine.”
Laughter ripples through the courtyard. It’s all in good fun, mostly. Tournaments bring out the swagger in each of us, but there’s no denying I’ve got something to prove. Some of them still think I rose too quickly and that I’ve got too much charm, not enough grit.
They’ll see today.
I tighten the leather wraps around my wrists, flexing my fingers. My horns gleam in the morning light, freshly polished. My chest is bare, save for a crimson sash knotted at my side. It flutters when I move. It's ceremonial, but I like the flair. A little drama never hurt anyone.
And still, in the middle of all this, she’s in my head.
Maker’s breath. Just the thought of her tightens my chest. She’s gorgeous, and not just in that soft, sweet way that makes me want to protect her, but in a way that makes me want to ravish her .
To drag her into the meadows and see if those pretty little gasps sound as good when they’re muffled by my cock.
I didn’t mean to overhear her singing the other day, but Stars, I’m glad I did.
It was like everything else just stopped.
Even the wildlife seemed to hush, as if every creature in the garden held its breath to hear her.
I wonder if she could tell how badly I wanted to close the distance between us yesterday, how deeply I desired to pin her against the fence and swallow that startled little sound she'd made when I was knocked on my ass and landed at her feet, like a fool.
The one time Jorel managed to get the upper hand on me, she'd had a front-row seat.
Fantastic.
I haven’t stopped thinking about it since, or about the way her dress clung to her hips when she turned to leave.
She’s wrong if she thinks I haven’t noticed her. Most of the males have made comments about her beauty since the day she arrived, but they don’t see her the way I do.
They don’t notice how her fingers twist in her skirts when she’s nervous, or the way she bites her bottom lip when she’s about to speak and then thinks better of it. The way she’d look beneath me, panting, begging—
“Fenric!” Kael calls, tossing me a spear from across the yard. “You just showing off or actually fighting today?”
I catch it one-handed, forcing my thoughts back to the present. “Why not both?”
More laughter. But behind the bravado, my mind is still on her.
She said she’d come today. Well, she nodded.
That counts, right? I hope she does. Part of me wants to win just so she’ll see it, and so the last image of me in her head isn’t me eating dung at her feet.
I want her to see me at my best ; sweat-slicked, victorious, and fantasising about what these hands could do to her.
It’s a foolish thought. She’s sweet and quiet, and I’m.
..not. I’ve broken more hearts than I can count.
Smiled my way into trouble more times than I care to admit.
I’m not the kind of male someone like her should want.
But with her, it’s different. I don’t just want to bed her…
though, Gods, I do . I want to take my time.
I want to know what makes her laugh, what makes her blush.
She’s quiet, but I want to hear her speak in every tone; nervous, angry, joyful…
in pleasure, when she’s coming undone upon my cock.
And if I get the chance to claim her as my mate, then I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure nothing ever drowns out the sound of her voice.
I sling the spear across my back, adrenaline beginning to hum through my veins. The stands will fill soon, the drums will sound, and I’ll take to the ring with every eye watching.
But the only person I’ll be looking for is her.
The softest, prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my world full of iron, the only female who makes me burn .
The sparring ring looms ahead, ringed with banners snapping in the wind. The crowd isn’t here yet, just a few early risers prepping the grounds, but my blood is thrumming anyway. This is where I thrive .
I adjust the strap across my chest and start toward the entrance when a deep voice calls, “Fenric.”
I stop mid-stride and turn.
My Chief, Dakar, stands just beyond the archway, flanked by someone I don’t recognize.
The stranger is taller than me, barely. Broad, older, eyes like cold steel. One of his dark horns is broken. His armor is fine, polished bone and leather dyed midnight blue. I've never seen him before, definitely not one of ours.
“This is Commander Garron of the Thornhide tribe,” Dakar says as I approach. “He arrived late last night.”
I nod in greeting, offering a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Sir.”
Garron eyes me for a second longer than polite before clasping my wrist. His grip is stronger than necessary.
“You’re the young one, then,” he says in a gruff voice. “I’ve heard about you.”
I flash him my most charming grin. “Good things, I hope.”
He doesn’t return my smile. “That remains to be seen.”
Right. So he’s that type.
Dakar clears his throat, stepping in smoothly. “Garron is here to observe the tournament and to evaluate our customs. The Thornhides are considering a treaty between our tribes.”
My brow arches. I know what that means.
Mate-bonding.
“Understood,” I say, jaw tightening just a little.
“I want you to show him what our warriors are made of.”
So, no pressure, then.
“Gladly,” I respond, nodding to both of them. “I shall give you a show.”
Garron remains staid. I bet he's the life of the feast. “Thornhide values strength above all else. Not flash or tricks.”
“Oh,” I reply, letting a smirk curve my lips. “But, I’ve got all three.”
Dakar huffs out a low chuckle as Garron’s frown deepens. I offer a half-assed nod, respectful enough to avoid a lecture later, but lazy enough to make my disinterest clear, and turn back toward the ring. My hooves crunch over the gravel as I walk away.
Garron’s glare prickles against my back, but I don’t really care.
I wonder if she’ll come.