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

19. Avina

19

AVINA

October 29th, Year 100, 9th Era

Treland Arena

“ W ho is this, Helga?” The man is the same age as her father, with gray hair, a beard, and the same bulky build as Sigvid. His heavy leather cuirass stretches tight over his bulging muscles.

He reaches out and grips Avina’s arm with a force that has her squealing.

This can't be happening to me.

Will the Salt Prince help her escape Samson? Has their back-and-forth reached a crescendo where their complicated history and lust have merged into at least respect?

“Gods, Kar,” the woman named Helga swears.

Fur armor covers every bit of her body except her hands and midsection. As her eyes drink in Avina’s nakedness, she slaps her arm out onto his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

Helga shoves her against the corridor wall. “Speak your name!”

The glint in the shieldmaiden’s hazel eyes is wild and knowing. She quickly comprehends that lying to this woman will do more harm than good.

“Queen Avina Bloodstone.”

Kar’s eyes widen, and then he cackles. “Sure you are. And I’m the Briny God himself.”

Helga lands a punch on his chest. “Do not play the fool, Kar. I’ve studied her since she captured our Commander. Not to mention, she is known to haunt the Arena.” She tilts her head, smirking. “Tired of Timber cocks, Your Majesty?”

Her cheeks burn at her insinuation.

Helga drags her back toward Sigvid’s cell. Avina’s confusion outweighs her indignation, leaving Kar to interrupt.

“Wait, are we bringing her with us?” Kar looks her up and down.

Helga sighs, agitation growing at her fellow Drengr. “She is the Timber Queen, Kar. Did you pay attention to anything with the Prince during the war?” She sighs. “She will make a perfect welcome home offering for our Commander.”

Kar’s responding devilish grin is the stuff of nightmares. “He will be delighted to see his sworn enemy in such a bare state.”

“What is going on out there?” Sigvid's gruff voice booms from inside his cell.

“You take her, and I will open the lock,” Helga instructs.

She continues to spiral in her thoughts of freedom while Helga uses a key to unlock the door, which crashes open against the wall. Her eyes focus on the warrior who emerges. His closer proximity makes her stomach flutter with butterflies.

Heavy bags hang beneath his eyes, and the lines on his face age him. The air of savagery from the Lord Commander intensifies with his crimson-stained combatant armor.

Her legs quiver as her blue eyes lock with his. A ravenous hunger burns in his piercing gaze.

How can this be the same man who committed war crimes against the Timber people?

Helga’s wide and toothy smile makes her blood boil. The shieldmaiden races to his side and stares up at him with admiration as if he is the stuff of legends .

“Thank the gods you are alive. We have much to discuss on the way to Toftlund.” Helga gushes out, seeming more nervous as she speaks. “We received your message and cell key to arrive today, but I wouldn’t believe it until I saw you in the flesh.”

Instead of responding to his Drengr, Sigvid draws Avina’s attention.

Without thinking, she bolts down the hallway with no one paying attention. She barely reaches the next cell when he slams her against the wall. His thick, veiny arms cage her as his hot breath tickles her neck.

“Well, hello, Avina. What a surprise to find you outside my cell…again.” A mingling of blood, sweat, and the same sensual musk that clung to her body after their last interaction swirls her senses.

“Sigvid.” She squeaks.

His hand curls around her upper arm, and he drags her back to his cell before tossing her inside like a rag doll.

“Her Highness and I have unfinished business before vacating the arena.” He waves a hand in dismissal to his Drengr as his door thuds to a close.

“What’s going on?”

“Shut up.” He moves quicker than she can process. His axe blade is cold against her throat. “You are going to answer my questions, Queen Avina.” He growls out her title like a curse.

What does he wish to know? Her Council and father took away what little power she could wield. Her mind held no castle secrets to exploit.

“Why did you send me to this fucking place?” his menacing growl has her shaking. “Did you want me to die for the amusement of the Treland lords? So you can laugh at the sheer powerlessness you have forced upon me? You fucking spiteful bitch. Surely your uppity Ridge friends take delight in my torment.”

She flinches as if he had struck her. “No… I would never. I didn’t…I wanted you to return home. To Salt.” The terror over his wrath has her cowering.

He recoils from her with a furious growl. The Prince frantically strokes his beard as he stands before her, clutching her chin roughly between his fingers.

“Lies!” He hisses. “You sent me to the Arena to die like a rabid dog. Do not fucking lie to me!”

“Sigvid,” his name sticks in her throat, eliciting far more emotion than she realizes, “my ability to choose your fate was ripped from my grasp. I am so sorry.”

“Fuck!” He pushes away from her, pacing and muttering angrily to himself.

She leans against the wall beside the door, wondering if she can slip out and around his Drengr. When her hand reaches the handle, he whips around on her, and she bristles.

“Why are you so angry that I did not send you to the Arena?” She shrieks before he can question her again.

“What about my father?” He ignores her. “He was killed visiting the Sapphire Palace.”

What is this line of questioning? Does he need me to be at fault for all the sorrow in his life?

She shakes her head, pressing her back against the cell door. “I loved Thord! He and Frida were better parents than my own father. Thord was furious that night he came to the palace, and the Healers said his fall from the high garden was a tragedy.”

I still mourn that man!

He grunts, turning away from her as if he can not bear looking at her. He tosses a chair against the wall, raining splinters over the room.

“What is this fury you have with me? What have I done to you?” Her throat constricts with unshed tears.

“My Lord, we must move along.” Helga tosses open the door, catching Avina before she can dart. “Also, here are your axes. You must have dropped them when the Timber men snatched you.”

Kar gestures to his blackwood axes. “Only our Lord Commander would figure out a way to obtain new weapons while imprisoned,” he laughs.

Sigvid slips the blackwood axes into his belt before accepting the smooth, rune-etched ones that elevated him to legendary status.

His piercing eyes fall on Avina’s naked form, and she becomes uncomfortably aware that behind his eyes, his mind is twisting.

She looks away to his Drengr, who usher him down the corridor. His calloused hand wraps around the base of her neck and roughly guides her toward the back corner of the cell.

Using one of his old, worn axes, he presses the cold blade across her clavicle.

“Kneel.” His stern command trickles goosebumps across her skin.

She purses her lips, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Even if her knees weaken in both arousal and intimidation at his murderous appearance.

“Make me order you a second time, and we will see where this axe can squeeze.”

“I owe you nothing.” Her would-be strong voice wavers under the fury rolling off his shoulders like a suffocating tidal wave.

A scream wrecks from her lips as he snatches a handful of her curls in his unyielding grip.

“Last time, kneel before me.”

She spits at his boots.

He tears her hair forward, compelling her away from the grungy stone wall. The force of his aggression positions her head to the ground with her backside in the air.

Shivers sear her skin, and she wonders if he will wrap her in the same furious embrace he had a month ago.

She fights against his control to watch him examine one of his old worn axes.

No…

Bile fills the back of her throat as waves of nausea tug her under.

Sigvid is going to kill her.

It was only a matter of time before he tired of their games. What transgressions has she committed other than the war to arouse his hatred? It was he who killed Rendel! The war and capturing him were all simply what she thought was required of her as the Queen. To protect her people against this brutal man.

Then there were her heartfelt letters and the gifts, not to mention the first time they met in her father’s study. Perhaps none of that means the same to him. The burn in her throat is a warning she must gather her emotions or risk crying on the floor of this dank cell.

He releases his unrelenting grasp on her hair, allowing her to gaze at the ground in haggard gasps. She can hear his heavy footsteps behind her and knows the end is near.

She shrieks when his hand connects with the tenderness of her backside.

She closes her eyes. Goddess of Wisdom, hear my prayer and safeguard Nellie if I should ascend to your Golden Citadel. Oh, Mother of Treland, grant me balance to survive his brutality .

She inhales deeply after her final thought in time for something rigid and unyielding to shove into her, thankfully wet core. She cries out from the sudden ache and strange pleasure which contort around her pulsating fear.

“What are you doing?” She cries out.

“Owning you, Avina.” He pushes the object further inside her. She suspects it is the handle of one of his axes. “Your life, be it long or short, is mine to control.”

Oh, Goddess!

She wants to be furious with him. Instead, the smooth wood fills her openness, stoking the fire for him buried deep within. As the shaft rubs along her fleshy walls, she feels the ridges from his carved runes. The rougher penetration builds the budding sensation of a not-far-off orgasm.

He moves the axe faster, “Look at that pussy fucking drenched for my axe. You belong to me, Timber Queen. Soon, you will exist as nothing more than a plaything for my desires. My prisoner of war. My whore.”

Whore? What about the respect he always showed her when they were at war? She must return home to Nellie and her people, not live in Toftlund on her hands and knees for Prince Sigvid.

Worse than the prospect of such a future is the heat building in her stomach from his words.

She is enjoying this.

“I am the Queen of Timber. You cannot do this.” She hisses as the axe strikes just the right spot. Forced moans tumble out of her lips, betraying her storm of emotions .

“You cannot even speak without moaning, you dirty cunt.” He sneers.

She feels the rough leather of his armor press into the softness of her back. He growls in her ear, and dammit if she doesn’t grunt like an animal.

“Watch, little Queen, as I can do whatever I fucking want to you.” The axe twists as he moves it in and out.

She screams at the shift in position. His free hand slides up her back to wrap around the front of her neck.

I cannot become his toy. I need to return home to those who need me.

“Please, Sigvid. Let me go. I promise not to pursue you any longer.”

“Too late for that.” His laugh is dry and demeaning. “You will be too busy on your knees at my side until I say otherwise.”

She shakes her head through the thrill continuing to build between her legs. Speaking was keeping her orgasm at bay. She refuses to offer her vulnerability to him.

“I will not join the ranks of your whores.”

He wraps his hand around her mouth, silencing her protests to pathetic mumbles. “You are the only whore I ever wanted.” He squeezes tighter on her mouth while increasing the speed as he fucks her with the axe handle.

Oh, Goddess, this is wrong. I shouldn’t enjoy this!

She cannot fight back despite every warning bell ringing in her head, urging her to flee by any means necessary. She is utterly helpless under his control. Even his hand, clutching her mouth so tightly she is likely to bruise, incites a desire for him. A harrowing darkness deep inside her yearns to surrender herself to Sigvid’s brutality.

“Cum for me!” he continues to thrust the shaft of his axe into her. “Do as I say!”

Her self-control wavers on the edge of a blade. The peak of the high mocks her even as she denies herself the bliss she is sure to reach. His authoritative voice clutches into her groin and wrenches the earth-shattering release out of her core. Whether she wants it to or not.

She screams as her walls shudder against the rigid shaft, urging her from one orgasm into another as he presses into her sweet spot. No one has ever forced her to cum this intensely.

“Good girl.” He removes the carved wood slowly and carefully as if he is now worrying about her well-being. “Stand.”

He jerks her upright until her back is against him. His stiff member, still concealed in his trousers, presses against her behind.

“Mmm,” the tip of his nose trails along her shoulder, “I will have you.” His breath sends goosebumps across her neck.

“We shall see.” She seethes.

“Is that a challenge?”

She grits her teeth. “Take it as you will. I will never stop trying to escape you.”

“I enjoy this fight in you, Avina. But, I will break you.” He grabs her neck and roughly tosses her back onto the table in his cell. He removes his solid cock and then slides between her legs without ceremony. He pins her wrists to the wooden grains of the surface.

They meet one another’s gaze with equal disdain. He grins and glides into her with ease. She squirms underneath him to no avail. She finds herself distracted by the dark art painted across his muscled body. When he catches her gaze, a haunting resolve reflects in his intense eyes.

She refuses to admit the feeling of him buried deep inside was deliciously sinful. He bottoms her out quickly, wreaking moans from her lips that have his eyes black as night. He has already worked her into a dizzyingly wet state from the axe handle, so his thick member feels like an indescribable bliss.

With a growl, he thrusts into her, sliding them further against the wall. He pounds her forcefully enough that the vibrating wood scraping against the wall begins to crack.

She feels she is freefalling through nothingness. His member is seemingly the only tether to the spinning world around her. Every part of her begs that she avert her eyes anywhere but at the mighty warrior plowing into her like a common harlot plucked from the streets.

Despite her better judgment, she lifts her dark lashes until she sees his expression contort in a strange mixture of lust and rage. He continues growling as his sweat drips on her breasts, bouncing in time with his rhythm. He grips her wrists, pulling her roughly along the table toward him.

Noises she didn’t know she possessed leave her lips the angrier he thrusts into her center. Goddess, she needs more of him.

He is not a good man. That persistent little nag tugs on her.

What do I care? I will escape from him the next chance I get.

Another release builds. To keep from screaming his name again, she bites her lower lip.

“I know you want to finish again. Just fucking do it.” He pumps faster and squeezes her wrists tight, keeping her restrained on the table.

“No.” She hisses.

“Fucking cum for me.”

Her head thrashes side to side. “Do not order me!” Her words are shaky at best.

He relinquishes a wrist to slap his hand over her mouth, “What the fuck did I tell you? You are mine, Timber Queen. My orders are the only ones you will accept until I decide to end you. I want to feel you come undone around my cock like the good little whore you are.”

His large palm muffles her scream while her hips undulate against his pelvis, chasing the orgasm until she convulses on the table. He rips out of her after she barely finishes. Before she can react, he covers his hot seed across her face and chest.

She shakes with disgust while he grins down at her. Humiliation like she has never known flushes her warm cheeks.

He traces his cum over her chin and forces it into her mouth. “Swallow.” He commands.

She obeys and not even from fear. More than anything, she wants to taste him. She wants to hear him praise her actions.

And she hates it.

She hates him!

He pulls her back to her feet, his proud eyes traipsing along her cum-covered body. “Let us go.” He shoves her back into the corridor.

Kar and Helga stand, arms crossed, leaning against opposite walls, appearing visibly uncomfortable.

“Kar and Helga, this is the Timber bitch.”

Their shared expression ranges somewhere between amusement and confusion while Avina’s body shakes from torment and arousal .

No matter what happens next, she must get home to Nellie. Who will protect her? Her people deserve a better ruler than Samson. What will happen to them if he manages to drag her back to Toftlund?

“Remove her from the Arena, Helga.” Sigvid commands. “Kar, you will follow me.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Avina forces herself to meet his eyes, which remain cold and merciless.

“Do not,” he catches her hands, attempting to clean his seed off of her skin. “I need them all to see you like this.”

Her quivering lip curls in disgust.

“You will return home with me. There, I will decide if you shall live or die.”

She shudders beneath him as his knuckles drag along her temple. His voice lowers even further. “You are my prize for surviving the Arena. The only prize I’m ever going to need.”

Her mouth goes dry, and her body stiffens. She grinds her teeth to keep from lashing out as he shoves her body into Helga’s arms.

Avina’s eyes narrow at him, wondering if he possesses a heart at all.

When Rendel ordered her to his room to demean her, she grew to expect his appalling actions. After all, a scorpion will always try to sting. But she always fancied the Prince of Salt to be a different breed of man—someone she often dreamed would never dismiss her to nothing but a womb.

“Keep her alive, or heads will roll,” He warns his two Drengr.

Avina snorts. Why care about her safety? He would take her home and then place her on a polished shelf covered in cum so all can see he bested the Timber Queen. Why does it matter if she sits on that shelf alive or dead?

The group plunges along the corridor filled with sponsored combatant cells. When they arrive in the main hall winding back to the upper levels, they move to split off. Sigvid stops Helga as they reach the outer door.

“Send in the Drengr to open every cell door. Everyone escapes.” He turns to run but yells back. “Oh, and find the Timber Queen warm clothes to wear!”

Helga nods before dragging a bare-skinned Avina out the side door and into the winter air on the coast.

Avina wraps her arms around herself in an attempt to fight against the bitter cold.

“Come on, whore.” Helga spits, tugging her naked body out into the frigid air.