Page 22 of Delinquent Dette
“Don’t you dare menace that bastard, Frikka!” Sten’s shout held fierce possessiveness in it. As if Frikka fucked his victims. Any Drake that could break under his claw wasn’t worth the slick Frikka needed to take them.
“I wasn’t going to shag him! That pup is our kin now. Eamon wronged family. I want to kick his ass!” Frikka crossed his arms, and Tyler moped off to sit by the car, his breath heavy.
“Kill me, but my only regret will ever be not personally crushing your last clutch. Too poor to afford a true bunker for your nest. I might have saved a Dette for myself, who knows? But you’re too limp-wristed to do a damned thing. Your Dette holds your coin purse.” Eamon flicked his tongue at Sten, and Frikka’s hair swept back from the breeze of Sten’s fist sweeping by. The satisfying crunch of fist to skull made Frikka’s broken heart freeze.
“Listen well.” Sten leaned over Eamon, rage pouring from every inch of his magic.Thatwas the male that Frikka wanted in his nest. For as much as Frikka loved that Sten let him have his blood, it was Sten’s turn to have his. “Frikka has his fun with his enemies because it’s far kinder than what I would do to you if I had a chance. I’d string you from my sons’ ash tree, make you a blood eagle, and as you choked to death, I’d chop off your lingonberry-sized testicles and shove them down your throat.” The harsh, shaking conviction in Sten’s voice did something to Frikka.
“I might mate you one day…” Frikka didn’t even realize he’d said it, but Sten took the moment for what it was.
“A maybe is as good as anything from you.” Sten didn’t smile. His face still held all the anger in the world, years of pent-up rue. But they kissed anyway.
It was not a tender thing. They bit at one another as Sten hefted Frikka by his ass and pulled him up. Tongues thrusted, his beard in the way drawing snuffles of air and groans of pleasure. Frikka vowed to never ignore the male again. This was the Viking worth Frikka’s heart.
Hallr and Sile swept in, the former taking Tyler off with Eamon, and they finished their kisses until they ended up in the back seat of the car, grinding against one another. Sten’s hand pawed at Frikka’s side, their teeth clacked, and bodies shivered. “Dette… We need to get back, but I’ll have you, yet.”
“Ahem.” Sile, naked and broad as any Hmong warrior with that old blood, folded his arms and sneered.
“Fine. We will fuck later. Not in Hallr’s house, though.” Frikka pulled away and cried out when Sten shifted and scooped him up, puffed and proud.
I am so proud of you, Dette. You’ve earned your place at Nidhogg’s table as many times over as coins I’ve given you.I apologize for stealing your fight.Sten flew and Frikka left something behind on the road as they left.
Regret?
Hate?
The future was clear. Sten needed his pound of flesh, too. And one sunny evening, they’d find peace and Frikka would claim him. Because one did not own a Dette like Frikka—they were owned by them.
As for Eamon?
With everyone looking, it’d be hard to do his worst. Sile might give him the privilege of dealing with it, but that seemed less important. As for the “king,” Frikka would take care of that soon enough. With Sten.
Chapter Twelve
Sten
Spring 2024
“Dette! What are these?” They’d rented the home of a Drake who only visited the area infrequently—Gatlin or something. It was a retreat when he and his two Drake mates came to visit Ryan. Their mate, being his full brother, and bearing some guilt for Ryan’s situation, did his best to visit.
In Vritra culture, some mutation had cropped up due to inbreeding over thousands of years, leaving three classes of dragon: Dette, Drake, and something they calledHijada. With no direct translation, it could be transgender, eunuch, or intersex. Despite claiming he was a Drake, Sten knew exactly what the male was—Hijada. He did meet all the appearances of a Drake but would have little interest in Dettes—their dragons the same way. It worked well into their clan caste system. Fertile Drakes took many Dettes. Hijada were servants and helped rear the pups, and Dettes joined their harems. And the Vritra were extraordinarily protective of their Dettes. Few came to the new world. Many Hijada did, though.
Frikka, who’d been lounging outside, wandered his way back in and stared at a cardboard box on the kitchen table. “Dildos.”
“Dildos?” Sten reached into the box and held up a large, neon-pink rubber phallus with a threatening wobble.
“The Loch boys, the ones that are courting Bastien. They have a factory. They make floppy penises.” Frikka eyed the box warily as if he didn’t want them, which made Sten wonder why he’d brought them.
“They make my penis floppy, that’s certain.” Sten snorted as he gave the threatening thing a wiggle. He couldn’t imagine a human form taking it. “This is to use in your dragon, yes?”
Frikka eyed the beast. “The humans buy them a lot. They must have bigger holes than Dettes.”
Sten gave it another experimental wiggle. “So why do we have the box of floppy penises?”
“So, when the factory, it has accidents and some of the penises come with a bubble or flaw. They throw them away.” Frikka beamed happily. “These are flawed.”
“That doesn’t answer why we have the box of floppy penises, Dette!” Sten dropped the dildo into the box, and it bounced, flopping onto the dining table and then floor with a rather wet slap. They both stared at it as it rolled, picking up lint off the floor.
“I haven’t put the postage on yet.” Frikka tilted a flap on the box and they stared at the address. “Aodh Loch.”
