Thor’s Fiery Mate (Gods and Monsters Fated Mates #1)

Chapter One

Sutrelle sat, as tense as a drawn bowstring, under the weight of Thadren's massive hand on her thigh. She stared at her untouched plate, attempting to maintain control over the trembling threatening to consume her.

"Not hungry?" Thadren inquired, his deep voice like distant thunder rumbling through her body.

Summoning resolve, Sutrelle forced down a swallow, thinking only of sandpaper against parched wood. "Just overwhelmed by all this," she replied with a thin smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her gaze remained fixed on her meal- anything not to meet those fiery eyes of his.

His grip sent a sharp jolt down her spine, and she bit hard against the instinctive cry of protest rising within. Around them, the hall was alive with raucous laughter and boisterous singing- sounds mingling into a cacophony of revelry reminiscent of fevered creatures in the wild.

Her father’s grand hall burned with smoke and heat, suffocating her. A giant blackened fireplace taking up much of one wall sported an entire mulboar roasting on a spit, its skin crackling and blackening with every revolution mimicking the death radiating inside her.

Every inch of open wall space in the room held trophies from her father’s conquests, coloring the ashy colored walls with vibrance and variation to the otherwise drab room.

A nightloo from one world spread its wings wide, its mouth open, ready to strike.

A fawndle from another world curled small, terrified, and cowering.

A slipendot from a third world took up a massive space, its foot long fangs bared in a snarl.

All decorations. Things to eliminate and display to show her father’s power.

Just like her betrothal to Thadren. All meant to show and garner loyalty and strength to his kingdom.

"Wait for our wedding night," Thadren breathed close enough for warmth to brush against her skin like embers from flame-hammered metal.

"You'll never want to leave our bed when I show you true excitement.

" The prickle of his rust-colored beard brushed against her cheekbone.

To Sutrelle's own disbelief, the scent he wore- a mixture of polished steel and exotic spices added a layer of intrigue amidst the anxiety swirling in her chest.

Surtr, Sutrelle's father, chuckled on the other side of Thadren and clapped the fire giant on the back with a massive, black hand.

"I never thought having a daughter like Sutrelle would bring me anything but misery.

It's good to know she will be of use to you and bring you some happiness, my friend. "

Sutrelle's cheeks flushed at her father's jab.

For as long as she remembered, she'd been nothing more than a burden and disappointment to her father, king of the fire giants.

She wondered for the millionth time why he'd bothered to let her live after her mother died in childbirth.

He'd always blamed her for the death of her mother, especially since her mother hadn't borne him any sons before bothering to die, as he constantly reminded her.

To look at them, you'd not know Sutrelle and Surtr were related.

Where his eyes and beard glowed with fiery flames, her eyes were green.

And though she'd been blessed with flaming red hair, it neither glowed nor burned like her father's.

Not to mention his ten-foot-tall, ashen-skinned bulk towered over her diminutive frame.

Nothing about Sutrelle said she was the daughter of a giant.

"Here, my dear." Thadren lifted a piece of goat from his plate, his massive hand engulfing it and making it look more like mouse kibble than an entire mouthful of meat.

Though he wasn't quite as tall as her father, Thadren had at least fifty pounds of muscle on him.

Thadren held the meat toward her lips, and the scent of it made her stomach growl and roil. The lingering smell of smoke and herbs mixed with the oily scent of the meat, and she swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat.

"You are as tiny as this bird," said Thadren. "You need to put some meat on yourself if you are going to bear our children."

"Ch-children?" she stammered. They weren't even married, and already he wanted her to give him children.

Thadren laughed. "Of course. With your beauty and my physique, our children will be the envy of the nine realms. We will be able to form alliances with other realms for the first time in generations.

" His hand left her thigh for the first time, and he stroked her cheek.

"This marriage will allow me to avenge the wrongs done to my people, finally.

With heirs to help rule, and your father's armies at my back, the only thing sweeter than the victories I achieve will be having you to warm my bed. "

Sutrelle's nails dug deep into her knees as Thadren rubbed the meat across her bottom lip. Sutrelle opened her mouth and took the smallest bite possible.

Swallow it. Just swallow it.

Thadren chuckled and shoved the rest of the food in his mouth before sucking on his thick calloused fingers. "We will have to work on your appetite."

Sutrelle caught her father's seething glare over Thadren's shoulder.

Her cheek no longer stung from where her father had struck her the week before, after hearing her pleas not to make her marry Thadren.

But just because it no longer stung physically didn't mean the threat he'd made to her if she didn't marry Thadren didn't loom over her like a noose awaiting her throat.

Sutrelle cast her eyes downward.

"Forget about her. After tomorrow, you will have the rest of your life to do with her as you please. For now, we need to talk. I need to plan for my armies and what I gain out of the deal," said Surtr.

Thadren nodded, and Surtr stood as did everyone at the banquet.

Sutrelle got to her feet as her father turned without a word and headed for the exit.

Thadren looked to her and opened his mouth to speak, but the sharp bite of her father's call had him bowing to her and following his father like an obedient guard dog.

Sutrelle watched the men leave and stood before all her father's men, their eyes upon her. Some with pity, some with lust, and others with disdain. She lifted her thumb to her mouth and began to bite the skin next to her nail.

"Sutrelle."

She shoved her hands down and turned to the only friendly face she had known her entire life. Valkyrie.

The displaced Valkyrie had been like a sister to Sutrelle's mother.

And after Ragnarok, when Surtr had kidnapped Sutrelle's mother, Valkyrie had insisted he take her too, though she would be a prisoner.

But over time, Surtr had come to find Valkyrie useful and had tasked her with babysitting Sutrelle.

Valkyrie squeezed Sutrelle's arm, sending a jolt through her. Sutrelle straightened and lifted her eyes the way Valkyrie taught her.

"We should go," said Valkyrie.

Sutrelle nodded, and Valkyrie's hand dropped away as she squared her shoulders and turned to leave.

Sutrelle held her head high as she passed servants, Thadren's men, as well as her father's.

She would never dare to assume such a posture if her father remained in the room, but Valkyrie told her if she ever wanted to garner an ounce of respect, she needed to at least try to appear like she possessed a shred of dignity.

Easy for Valkyrie to say, she was a Valkyrie.

Sutrelle was the unwanted daughter of a tyrant who took every opportunity to remind her how little she was worth.

They made their way to the farthest end of her father's palace.

The corridor opened into a chamber carved from black volcanic stone, smaller than most palace closets.

Rough-hewn walls softened by years of neglect.

A narrow stone bed sat pushed against the far wall, draped in a single blanket dyed the color of dried blood, the only fabric Muspelheim's markets carried. A makeshift workbench dominated the opposite corner, its surface scarred with burn marks and littered with half-finished rings, pliers, and stones she’d polished by hand until her fingers bled.

No windows, there were no windows this deep in the palace, but she'd mounted a row of tallow candles along a stone shelf, their stubs melted into pale pools that gave the room its only glow.

The ceiling hung low, though for Sutrelle's slight frame it posed no problem.

The bare obsidian floor was worn smooth under her feet from years of pacing.

She stepped inside, allowing herself to be cocooned by her space’s familiarity.

She caught her reflection in the polished copper disc mounted beside her workbench- a makeshift mirror she'd hammered flat years ago.

The face staring back was too delicate for the realm, all wrong for a fire giant's daughter.

Her jade-green eyes, her mother's eyes, sat wide-set above fine-boned cheeks rather than being broad and heavy. Her thick auburn-ginger hair spilled in heavy waves past her shoulders, nearly to her waist, the copper tones catching the candlelight so that the strands themselves seemed to burn. The rough-spun tunic hung shapeless on her narrow frame, ash-gray and scratchy against her pale skin, which carried none of the molten undertones of her father's people. She looked away from the disc. She always looked away. At least if she didn’t look at her reflection, she could pretend she looked like everyone else in the kingdom, except for the size. She barely came up to most males’ chests.

The smell of her soap and candle wax, along with the metallic scent of her metalworks, soothed her. Brought her back to the present. To her safe space.