Chapter 3 #2
I jumped when a skinned, headless rabbit dropped down in front of me, garnished with rosemary and lemon. The poor thing was minding its own business earlier this morning, and now it was being served with potatoes.
“Sk?l! Sk?l! Sk?l!” The crowd chanted.
“Think that’s my cue,” Brynden muttered close to my ear, swinging my head to my left. I had forgotten he was next to me.
He grinned, tearing off a huge chunk of rabbit, reclining into me. “In your honor. The first bite for my wife.” He held up the oily meat between his fingers.
I should’ve drunk more.
The smile I was so used to faking pinned my face and I leaned toward him. He placed the rabbit on my tongue. I barely let myself chew before swallowing it down, trying not to picture its family wondering why their loved one did not return home.
Even growing up, I wanted animals as pets, not as dinner. I ate it because it was necessary, and I understood it was the way of our people, our main sustenance, but it still made me squeamish. I think I was the only person here who would choose potatoes over a hearty plate of meat.
The drinking and cheers doubled in the hall by the time he lifted a slice of ham to my lips, my stomach so full I wanted to refuse, but I knew I couldn’t.
“In honor of my wife. She will have the last bite of my food as she had my first.” He fed me the last bite of our meal.
The symbolism that he would make sure I was protected, safe, and secure for the rest of my days.
Suddenly those days felt endlessly strung out in front of me.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” The revelers bashed cups together in thunderous booms.
Brynden beamed a toothy grin, rotating to me with a shrug. He leaned over, pecking mine softly, the room veering their ruckus into applause and whistles. He pulled away, joining the crowd in their jubilation.
Was that it?
My skin itched, and a tightness pulsed between my thighs, needing release. Needing more than a peck on my lips.
My mind full of alcohol, I boldly watched my future husband.
Like a bird who couldn’t settle, his happy blue eyes were constantly darting around and laughing as if everything distracted him, effortlessly amused by it all.
Simple. Easy to please. I couldn’t imagine him getting into a passionate fight.
Grabbing and kissing me without provocation, desperate to tear my clothes off and be inside me.
Would he be a good lover?
This was the man I would spend my life with, would sleep beside every night, most likely have children with.
From my seat, I could see Sarina joining in the merriment, snuggled between two men, flirting outrageously with both.
My father hated when Sarina acted like this, telling her a handmaiden should represent her mistress.
But he never did anything more than scold her or have Elvina do it, which by no means changed her behavior for a moment.
Sarina nestled against one of the men, her hand disappearing under the table in his lap. His head went back, the people next to them too drunk to notice her getting him off right there. She was so free to act, to do whatever she wanted.
“Maybe tonight you can get a good taste of what your marriage bed will be like.” Sarina’s voice came into my head, turning me back to Brynden. We were engaged. No one would care if we were intimate before the actual wedding.
Raking my gaze over the room, I could see everyone was distracted: dancing, drinking, and involved in their own seductions.
The king was in full conversation with Miika, yet his gaze was locked on Sarina, his lips twisted in a frown.
The rest of the Blaxhall family was out dancing or too drunk to notice much.
Boldness took over.
“Follow me.” I took Brynden’s hand, getting up from the table.
“What?” His eyes widened in wonder. “Where are we going?”
A slow smile curled my lips.
“Come find out.”
Thankfully he wasn’t obtuse enough to not understand my meaning. Loping up, he stumbled behind me like a tipsy goat, banging and falling into tables and walls.
“Hurry!” I pulled him along with a laugh, feeling giddy and free for once. I no longer had to sneak into a barn to meet a lover.
Brynden grinned drunkenly at me as I dragged us out of the dining hall to the corridor. Thralls and other couples dotted the windowless passage, pushing me to go farther away from prying eyes.
“Hey, come here.” He yanked me back into him, his hand fumbling into my hair. His mouth met mine in a messy kiss. “I wanted to do that all night. You are so beautiful.” He slurred with a slight giggle. “So, so beautiful. I cannot believe I am marrying the White Raven!”
His giggle annoyed me, his words irritated me, his innocence bored me, and the way he kissed was doing nothing for me, but I shoved aside my thoughts, desperate for what I was craving, a restlessness in me I needed to cure.
“In here.” I opened the closest door, towing him with me into the familiar room, the evening sunlight glowing through the windows.
“Wait . . . this is the king’s office.” Brynden’s feet came to a standstill, probably recalling being in here earlier when they went over the marriage contract.
“Yes.” I continued to tug him toward the desk. “Makes it that much more exciting.”
“We can’t be in here . . .”
Sarina and I used to sneak in here all the time as children during parties—it felt rebellious, making up stories about the boring paperwork we found.
“Doing this.” His voice went up.
“Why not?” I lay back against the king’s desk lined with folders and papers. “Consummate the marriage in the exact place you signed the contract for our nuptials?”
He stared at me in shock, glancing over his shoulder at the door while his feet pranced the ground nervously.
“Don’t worry, my father is enjoying the festivities far too much to return.”
Brynden swallowed, still unsure.
“I promise.” I held out my hand, hauling him between my open legs. Gripping his face, I angled up and kissed him, pouring myself into it, wanting him to forget everything outside of us. I longed for someone to want me so desperately they couldn’t think straight.
Brynden’s lips started out hesitant but grew increasingly zealous, his hands sliding up my back, a moan materializing in the back of his throat.
“And by tomorrow night, we will be husband and wife,” I muttered against his mouth, my own mind trying to rectify this, but it would not settle on it as real. “Let’s pretend we already are . . . husband.” I tried to sound seductive, more like Sarina.
His lips grew hungrier, liking his new title. My legs wrapped around his hips, and I closed my eyes, allowing my foggy mind to get lost in the act, desperate to feel skilled hands trailing over my skin, parting my legs, making me cry out in bliss.
He continued to kiss me for a long while, his tongue clumsy, not advancing us any further. Letting my mind wander and grow bored. Impatient.
Yanking up his long tunic, I began to undo his laced trousers.
A choked moan burst from him the moment my hand brushed over his stomach, trailing south, my fingers gripping him.
My touch switched him from unsure to crazed.
“Huginn-Muninn.” He moaned louder, his hips bucking frantically against my palm like he was trying to hump the air.
The way his eyes widened, his teeth biting into his lip, gave me pause.
“You’ve lain with a woman before?” I asked between his kisses, undoing the rest of the leather laces holding up his pants.
“Um . . .” His hesitation stopped me.
“What?” I blinked in surprise, pausing. “Really?” It was rare to find someone who was still a virgin at sixteen, let alone twenty-four.
Especially a man. Not a bad thing, but it just shocked me he wouldn’t have lain with someone before this.
Though I had heard, in some southern regions, they practiced stricter rules.
“I saved myself for my future wife.” He grinned, clutching my face.
“Little did I know it would be for the White Raven.” His mouth took mine frantically, his need pushing my spine back onto the desk, his hips banging and rubbing against me.
“Your father told us you were as well. That we would share this together as husband and wife.” His eyes so hopeful and reverential.
My father lied.
Instead of answering, I kissed him. Maybe it was a good thing we got it over with tonight. Have our first night as a married couple with a better understanding and familiarity with each other’s bodies.
Pulling up my dress, I widened my legs, showing him my see-through undergarments, watching his eyes bulge, his erection prodding out of his trousers.
“Kiss me,” I ordered.
He obliged with fervor.
My hand slid into his pants, wrapping around him, moving up and down.
“Oh Huginn-Muninn!” He gulped for air as my palm rubbed his shaft faster.
Bucking harder into my touch, the desk moved over the rug.
“That feels so good!” he croaked louder, his eyes glazing over, a vein in his forehead popping under his skin.
My hand stroked him firmer, twisting and squeezing the tip like one of my lovers had shown me, cupping his balls in my other hand.
Brynden moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head.
I leaned over, swiping him with my tongue.
“Hrafn!” Gritting his teeth, he snapped so hard against my hand, he tipped the desk, sending folders scattering over the floor, spilling out papers.
“Faen!” he barked when I did it again. The music and chatter from the celebration drowned out his cries, even from someone walking by.
His head fell back, his groans pitching up into the ceiling in a crescendo.
Well, that was extremely fast.
He slumped over in a heavy gasp, the alcohol from his breath puffing in my face.
“Wow,” he muttered, shaking his head, a big goofy smile spreading over his face. “That was . . . incredible.” His eyes met mine like we shared the same blissful sensations.
We did not.