The Beast of Salt (Saga of the Gods #1)

12. Sigvid

12

SIGVID

September 19th, Year 100, 9th Era

Treland Arena

P unishing Face in the ring earlier in the day has not satiated his thirst for blood.

Sigvid’s friendship with Champion means he does not need to express his frustration verbally. Between Sigvid’s frantic pacing and breaking anything sitting still long enough in his cell, Champion finally relinquishes.

Using his strange power of persuasion, he convinces the guards to send the combatants out for evening training since the rare sunlight often makes them all more peaceful.

Usually.

Sigvid cracks his knuckles as the duo step into the dusky glow of the training ground. His eyes scan the various sparring rings, targets, and training courses until they land on his target.

“You want to be chained up again?” Champ quips, following Sigvid’s narrowing gaze.

“I will send any of these pricks to the Abyss every chance I get.” Sigvid slaps Champ on the shoulder with a loud thud.

He strides up to the man he learned is Pretty Boy and punches him between his eyes. The force of his strike makes a cracking sound and bloodies the younger man.

“My name is Sigvid Thordsson, and I am going to kill you.”

He uppercuts Pretty Boy, sending him colliding into the training dummy he has been vainly using.

Through his choking, Pretty Boy struggles to stand but ends up collapsing back onto his ass. “What the shit is this? What did I do to you?”

Sigvid stands on his ankle with all his weight, wringing out a scream that brings a smile to his lips. “Did you serve King Rendel Manchineel?”

“Yes, what does that matter?” Pretty Boy whines like a child bereft of his toy.

“Did you ever lay hands on Queen Avina?”

Pretty Boy swallows and glances around the training field, searching for salvation.

Unfortunately for him, he will not find that here.

“I will take that as a yes.” Sigvid lifts him by the neck. Pretty Boy’s feet dangle above the ground, and then Sigvid clocks him again between the eyes.

“You and Face deserve everything I have delivered.” He hurls Pretty Boy’s body into the sentry wall with a sickening crack.

At Sigvid’s back, he can hear the heavy footfalls of guards charging across the field.

Frankly, it’s shocking they allow me off-leash to shit, considering the damage I deal.

Sigvid lifts a screaming Pretty Boy. “I can’t feel my legs!”

“Good. Now, you will not be able to feel anything.” He clutches the sides of Pretty Boy’s head and snaps his neck. His body crumbles to the ground.

“Ah, fuck.” Champ mutters.

At last, the guards approach. He offers out his wrists with a grin. “I know, I know. I will be chained tonight.”

Later that Evening

September 19th, Year 100, 9th Era

Treland Arena

S igvid perches on the bed in his cell. He stretches his corded arms blackened with ink to glower at the shackles encircling his wrists and linked to heavy steel chains.

At least he will sleep well, knowing Rendel, Face, and Pretty Boy are no longer wasting air.

Champ pressed him for reasons why he annihilated both men on behalf of his enemy, and he couldn’t quite say. In his mind, he likes to justify his actions as ensuring no one else will kill The Timber Queen or harm her before he gets to lay hands on her.

Sigvid still couldn’t decide whether he wants to fuck her until she screams his name like it is the only word she knows or if he wishes to torture her life until she begs for mercy.

He will settle for both at the same time.

Footsteps echo in the corridor outside his cell, which sits beside a stone wall at the end of the hall. From his bed, he glances through the bars of his door to see a shadow shuffling toward him.

A wobbly shadow.

He saunters toward the cell door until the chains on his wrists tug sharply, reminding him of his place.

The intruder's familiar feminine voice is poorly singing an old Ridge hymn to the Goddess Maeve. “…and I will find my way….” Hiccup.

Sigvid raises an eyebrow. He would recognize her voice anywhere now that he made a fucking point to assign it to his bloody soul.

The lit sconce across from his cell illuminates Queen Avina's golden curls. Accentuating her thick curves is a short black dress with cuffed sleeves over her shoulders. Her skirt flows out at her waist to settle at her knees, and that sweetheart neckline exposes the tops of her bouncing breasts, stirring all of Sigvid’s primitive desires.

How fucking dare she traipse down to his cell!

Singing no less.

And all to mock him ?

She sold him into this wretched Abyss, and here she is, drunk as a skunk and fucking singing?

The young Queen may have bested him once, but Sigvid is a terrible loser and never one for playing fair.

Tonight, I return you to your Goddess, Avina.

His eyes glare at her uneven footing, wanting to slam her head against the wall.

“Prince Sigvid Thordsson.” She slurs his name.

Ah, we have been overindulging .

Her hand hugs a green bottle of nearly empty Timber wine. “Get out of my head!” She seethes as she stumbles into his cell door.

“From the looks of that bottle, I am not what is in your head.” He watches her as she fumbles, trying to gain footing as she slips around on the smooth stone.

“I am a good girl, Sigvid. I read and follow all the rules; I am,” hiccup, “always there for my people. I deserve a moral, upstanding man instead of thinking about war criminals.”

This is too precious.

His maniacal smile widens.

It's too bad Kar and Slode aren’t here to witness this.

“Everything is your fault!” She shrieks. “I am not obsessed with you!” She pauses to lift the bottle’s neck to her dark red lips.

Even from his stance in his cell, he can hear her guzzle off the last contents of the wine. As she clutches the empty bottle to her bosom, she slips backward, loses her balance, and collides against the wall opposite his door.

Sigvid darkly chuckles as she slides down the wall, cradling the empty bottle like a comfort object.

“Come to me, little Queen.”

Come to me. Let me wrap you in cold steel and rip you apart at the seams .

She quirks her head to the side, and those stunning eyes warily assess him. “You are violent and frightening. I fear I might kill you.”

Gods, he would love to see her try.

With a devious smirk, he holds her gaze. “What would you do to kill me?”

She grins as she struggles to stand. Once upright, she wags the bottle as if it is the solution to killing Sigvid. Keeping her eyes on his, she smashes the bottle against the wall, shattering glass everywhere.

She does not collect a single shard of glass to stab him with. No, she walks straight to his cell door and unlocks it with a key she seemingly produces from nowhere. And then she ambles inside as if she owns the fucking place.

Sigvid tracks her progress until they are nearly nose-to-nose—well, as close as they can be, given that she is over a head shorter than he.

“You are brave to put yourself in my reach.” He snarls, hating that he will not permit her to defend herself with a weapon before she dies in his arms.

Before she can react, he pulls her to his chest by the shoulders and spins her around until he looms over her from behind.

Killing her must happen .

Killing her needs to happen.

After forcing Sigvid to endure the Arena, her time on the mortal plane ends.

Instead of screaming or fighting, he finds her submissive beneath his touch. She is pliant and quiet as if anticipating his next move.

In two quick motions, he wraps the slack of his chain around her neck and the other around her waist. Sigvid pulls taut so the chains pin her arms at her sides, digging into her skin.

Sigvid flexes his bulging biceps as he prepares to tighten the chains until he wrecks the last gasp of air from her body.

And then she elicits a needy moan that rouses him like never before.

Her head lolls back against his thick chest, revealing her smooth little neck and perfect lips parted in a tantalizing ‘O.’

For some unholy reason, her moan destroys any intentions to wrench her beautiful soul from her body.

He might seize it later.

But that decision is his to make and his alone.

Sigvid brushes his lips against her surprisingly soft curls, feeling himself harden under her bound figure.

“Before I sacrifice you to your Goddess, you will sin with me, Avina.”

He inhales the floral scent clinging to her hair as he yanks the steel links closer around her quivering body. He firmly bites down on her neck, relishing her whimpers as she struggles.

He chuckles. “Where is my brave little one and her mouthy defiance? Do you question offering yourself over to me?”

“No, please.” She whimpers out.

“No, you are not questioning yourself. Or ‘no,’ you want me to release you?”

More whimpers and pleas emanate from her blood-red lips. Sigvid wonders if they taste as sweet as her delicious scent.

“Those are not words. But this is not a choice. You will take my cock tonight.”

Sigvid slides his hands along her curves, digging his fingers into the smoothness of her body so tightly that she squeals. He leaves scratch marks along her flawless skin, staking his rightful claim over the fucking Queen of Timber. Only when he reaches her heavy, tender breasts does he pause, not wishing to tarnish the beauty of them just yet.

“Oh, please.” She moans tenderly.

Sigvid bites around the shell of her ear as his hips gyrate against her lower back. His hungry growl reverberates in his chest as he slides his hand between her legs to find her already slick for him.

“I am going to ravage you. And there is nothing you can fucking do about it.” He pulls tighter on the chains to ensure she is secure.

Those thick curves better withstand me.

I have been waiting to sink my cock into her for three fucking winters.

She wiggles closer to him despite the restraints as he massages the cheeks of her backside, digging his nails into her flesh until he draws blood, and she shrieks.

Sigvid’s guttural groan surprises even him as he listens to the precious music of her screams. He bites into her shoulder, inhaling her scent like it is the godsdamn oxygen he needs to survive. The more intensely his teeth penetrate her intoxicating skin, the sharper her noises amplify. He shoves two fingers inside her core to find her fucking drenched. He slips a third finger, biting his bottom lip.

Gods, she is tight for me .

His cock twitches in anticipation of spearing her center. No one has ever evoked such a reaction in him.

To think she is his to use—to harm, to pleasure, to kill.

He releases his thick, pulsing member from his pants and bunches up her dress, exposing her round ass.

Fuck, she is not wearing any underclothes.

She wants this.

And I am going to give it to her.

Brutally.

He rubs his member between her legs, feeling her coat him as his precum mixes with her arousal. One of his hands glides up her spine until it tangles into her hair. He brushes his fingers through her curls until he can grab a handful, yanking her head back until she blinks up at him.

Those heavy-lidded eyes look at him with fucking need.

Sigvid leans down, forcing his tongue into her mouth. He tastes the wine, mingling with her unique flavor—that familiarity that has haunted him since the Sapphire Palace.

If her mouth tastes this good, he can only imagine how luscious her pussy will be.

He kneels, forcing her roughly to her knees. Sigvid removes the chains from her waist and neck, only to wrap them around her arms, pinning them behind her back. He ensures she cannot move before positioning her on her stomach.

“Are you going to kill me?” She whimpers, squirming on the grimy ground.

He lifts her hips until he sees her wetness, inviting him in. And Sigvid complies as he rubs the head of his cock against her sensitive folds until she cries out as he slides his tip into her.

Fuck has anyone’s cunt ever felt this euphoric? At least I will enjoy hate fucking her.

“You are going to feel my loathing for you, Avina. Like a dirty cock-obsessed whore.”

Sigvid shoves inside to find her unrelentingly tight, stimulating a growl deep in his gut. He slides in and out of her with a heated ferocity. His increasing rhythm drives him to wrench on the chains binding her arms, forcing her chest off the ground.

All the while, her noises drive him mad with a violent lust. He tugs harder on the steel until she sobs a beautiful cadence of wails that lace with her pleasured moans.

Once he bottoms her out, his movements grow rougher as he pounds her fleshy walls with an unhinged intensity. Her primal grunts mingle with his pleasure, increasing his roughness as his inner beast is likely to rip her in half.

He tugs her arms until they press against his chest. He brushes her long curls aside and slips a hand between her legs, circling the bundle of nerves at her apex with two fingers.

For the first time in his life, he desires, no, needs to see this perfect slut clamp on his cock and milk his cum inside her pussy.

Fuck if he did not want to keep Avina at his mercy forever.

“Yes.” She hisses, drawing his focus back to her cheek resting against his.

Savory sounds of their arousal echo from his cell and into the corridor. Her chained arms painfully press against the muscles of his side. The faster he tickles her clit, the more haggard her breathing becomes.

She is close.

“Cum for me, Avina!” He snarls into her ear.

As if waiting on his command, she shrieks in pleasure, coming undone in his hold. Her walls collapse around him as if begging him to release into her.

“Sigvid!” She screams his name over and over, torturing his greedy need to abduct her all for himself. The waves of her orgasm drag her under to the same Abyss he is trapped in for her.

He lifts her body and bounces her up and down over his cock. Some of her arousal slides onto his balls, and he cannot handle the sensations of her body any longer. He cums hard inside his little Queen with a wild ferocity.

“That’s it! Take my fucking cum. You’re nothing but a pathetic little slut!” Sigvid holds her firmly against him as he shoots ropes inside her. The sheer amount of his cum stuffed into her hole begins to drip out .

He breathes heavily as his emotions disperse. Never has sex felt so emotionally charged for him.

The excess chains clang to the ground as he shifts her body from their weight.

The time has arrived.

Sigvid can snap her pretty little neck and exact his revenge.

But she gazes up at him in silent wonder. Her delicate fingers reach up to tangle in his dense beard.

Adjusting her weight, he finds her nearly limp in his arms. Even with the effects of the wine, she should not be this out of it. Her hazy gaze betrays her body’s response to the pain of the chains.

“Sigvid…” Her shaky voice whispers his name like a caress.

Now, kill her!