Page 25 of Mastered By the Viking King

Suddenly, the curtain was thrust aside.

King Njal walked in, the curtain swung back into place behind him.

He took four big strides, then his gaze landed on her.

He came to an abrupt halt, his eyebrows lowering. He sucked a breath through his gritted teeth.

Panic warred with Tove’s other emotions. He didn’t like what he saw, she was sure of it. She was too thin, her breasts too small. Her hair was too thick, her legs not long enough.

She cast her gaze to the floor and stared at her feet. She knew she was no goddess, but had always hoped a husband would find her attractive.

Judging by Njal’s reaction, it seemed he found her hideous.

What should she do? Run? Renounce the crown and throne, and take off into the storm, sacrificing herself to the wolves and the gods?

A ruffle of material told her he’d thrown his fur off. It landed in her peripheral vision. “I am sorry, my king.”

“Sorry?” His tilted his head and studied her.

She nodded, her eyes misting. “Aye, I am sorry you find me disgusting to look at.”

“Disgusting?” He stomped over to her. “What are you talking about, wife?”

“I am not the goddess you deserve as your queen.” A tear over-spilled and she swiped at it.

“I do not wish for a goddess in this life.” He pinched her chin, forced her to look up at him. “I wish for a woman.”

She stared at his face, frustrated that she didn’t know him well enough to be able to guess what he was thinking.

“I wish for a woman who will take my cock, and give me more sons.”

“I will try.”

“To take my cock, or give me sons?”

“Both.” Another tear escaped, and a shiver wound up her spine.

“The seer has told me of our destiny.” He scooped up her tear on the tip of his index finger and drew it into his mouth. His tongue poked out and he licked his lips. “And our destiny is to be together. Starting this night, you belong to me, your body, and your heart. In this life and the next.”

“I wish for that.”

The right side of his mouth twitched, and something in his eyes softened. “Then we have a good starting point.” He released her. “And start we must. Get on the bed.”

Oh, for the love of Odin, this is it.

She did as he’d asked, the warm furs silken on her bare skin as she slid to the center.

He picked up a jug from a small table, and poured mead into a horn before taking a slug. “Here.” He passed it to her. “Drink.”

She took it, downing the mead gratefully.

He set the horn aside, then stooped to remove his boots. He discarded them, then pulled off his tunic, revealing his bare chest.

Tove snapped in a breath. Her husband was godlike. His muscles were round and hard, his skin coated in ink that swirled and curved over every rise and dip of his upper arms. Body hair snaked from his sternum to his belly, thickening at the band of his pants—pants that hugged his groin and stretched over his wide thighs.

He pushed at his clothing, his movements fast and efficient, and stepped from them.

Tove hugged her knees to her chest and stared at his cock bobbing from dark hair. The huge tip was smooth, the shaft flushed and thick.

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