Caught in the Fox’s Teeth

Chapter 4: Taryn

“Please, sit. We’ve more to discuss.” He gestures to the seat next to the one he’s chosen.

“What if I cannot bear children?” I ask hastily. Dryndenn’s expression darkens.

“Do you suggest you can’t? What makes you think this?” This is a dangerous line of questioning. If I insinuate that I am barren, then I may have a chance to negate the contract. “How often would my son take you to his bed?” He raises an eyebrow, a carefully hidden smirk on his lips.

I can actually feel the color leave my face. I cough and sputter at the question. “Don’t ask me that! It’s not appropriate. I’m not discussing my s*x life with my dead husband to my father-in-law.” My stomach churns. I’m met with only silence and that damned c****d brow. His dark eyes wait patiently for me to continue. The pressure of the room becomes too much. I break the silence first because I am weak of will. “I don’t know. Perhaps… twice a week?” I mumble the words, shrugging. I am beginning to envy Bowen in his f*****g grave.

The lord’s reaction was not what I was expecting. Dryndenn roars with laughter. “Twice a week? Gods rest my son’s soul but f**k girl… I had assumed his appetites were more similar to my own than his prudish mother.” My cheeks heat. “It’s no wonder he’s not gotten you knocked up yet. Twice a week.” He chuckles into his cup. “Odin will make amends to that. He’s more of a twice a day man based on the steady stream of women that follow him around day and night. He’ll set things right. Don’t worry.” Taking a long sip of his whiskey, the lord’s words are said as if to bring comfort but all they bring is a wave of sickness. Don’t worry? Of course I’m f*****g worried! The last thing I want to do is end up like poor Elzbith. Imagining having a wolfish husband that f***s everything on two legs is not my ideal “happily ever after.”

“And what if he is the one that can’t produce an heir? As you say, he beds women constantly. He’s certain to have a bastard or two.” I spit out the words without caution. Dryndenn slams down his cup, eyeing me with malice.

“I have sired five legitimate children and gods know how many bastards. The Vulpin men have no issue with planting a seed. It’s the garden it takes root in where the problem lies.” His eyes narrow on me. He waits for my next tactic but I’m grasping at air. I only have one more card to play and it is a risky move.

“And what if I am pregnant already? That would mean possession of the estate would go to our child, correct?” I expect Dryndenn to spit and curse at my revelation, but he still wears that same maddening smile.

“Are you pregnant daughter?” He coos.

I shrug. “I could be. I’ve not had my monthlies yet. Who is to say.”

The lord nods as if expecting my answer. “A month then. Odin will arrive and begin his courtship. If you are pregnant, I will call off the wedding and Odin will remain here until the child is old enough to take possession of my son’s estate. If you are not with child, then you will wed and bed Odin until your belly swells with a healthy Vulpin babe. Elzbith and I will remain here temporarily to see that the contract is fulfilled one way or another.”

Fuck. f**k. Double f**k! I just want to wallow in my sadness in peace. I don’t want a houseful of raging pricks consumed with the thoughts of impregnating me while I mourn. I curse my own bloodline silently. If I hadn’t been born a Kirsker, I wouldn’t be in this predicament. But of course my family is one of the oldest and purest bloodlines. Of course we are said to be descended from the gods themselves. This is only one of the many reasons I don’t trust the faith. My blood is supposedly elevated to a covetous status based on an old legend so now I must pay the price for my lying cunt ancestors! Not to mention the damn near empty coffers my father mismanaged. An old lineage we may have, but a head for balancing the books we have not. I curse my father and his father and his father's father! My jaw clenches. Gods. I feel a headache coming on. The mix of stress and alcohol in my blood has been unkind to me.

“Odin is incredibly pleased with the new arrangement. Truth be told, he was terribly upset when Bowen was selected to be your mate. I imagine he will want to hasten the proceedings along but you must remain strong against his advances. It is tradition after all.” He mentioned his son’s current infatuation with me… he wasn’t talking about Bowen… he was referring to Odin. I can’t do this! I can’t marry that man!

“I will try to contain my womanly urges.” I say dryly. A smile quirks up his mouth.

“Yes. You are quite insatiable. From what I hear, you are good for a f**k twice a week.” He snorts as I blush. Bastard. “Now you are dismissed. And send Sorsha back in, would you? She fancies a f**k with a real Vulpin male… not one that can barely muster the will to f**k a beautiful woman twice a week.” I nod, embarrassed. Fox-like? More like f*****g swine. Turning my back to the High Lord Asshole, I stomp out the door like a petulant child. I don’t bother looking for Sorsha. The Lord can fetch his own whores. Instead, I storm up the steps and head towards my room.

As I walk down the hall, I take note of Bowen’s study being open. I look around warily as if I’m being watched by my husband’s ghost. I slip inside, skulking around my own home like a common thief. With a deep inhale, I drink in what remains of Bowen’s scent. The air is thick with the smell of aging paper and dusty tomes but there is an undercurrent there that is purely him.

Sandalwood. Honey. Citrus. Notes of his musk. If I believed in the gods, I would pray to them now to bring Bowen and I back together. Walking up to his desk, my hands drag across the supple leather. I bend down to smell where his head would rest against his chair. He is still here with me like this. If I close my eyes, I can almost see him kicked back in this very chair, book in hand. I can all but reach out and feel his silky black hair beneath my fingers as I would casually run them over his head. I almost feel his hands on me as I tremble under his piercing blue gaze. Bowen. I practically moan his name. All the time we never had together.

Sitting in Bowen’s seat, my hands coast over the heavy oak desk, feeling all the divots and scratches that mar the rich surface. So many stories have been told in this seat. A half-life lived well. My fingers find a familiar stain. My cheeks redden. It wasn’t long ago that Bowen laid me down on this very table to feast on my dripping cunt. In my exultations, I knocked over a decanter of his favorite red wine. Rather than interrupt his ferocious lathing and my incessant mewling, Bowen sloshed what wine remained on the table onto the floor. By the time we addressed the mess properly, the wine had stained portions of the desk. It’s a fond memory and one that leaves me flushed with need as well as raw emotion.

“It’s hard to believe he is gone.” Ullo states from the doorway, effectively startling me in the process. Ullo has always been Bowen’s right-hand man; both a loyal friend and servant. I feel tears begin to form at the corners of my eyes. “Oh no, Miss. Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. There’s just… a lot to take in right now…” I mumble though my throat begins to tighten. I cannot speak any more on such matters. My heart can’t take any more strain.

“So you’ve heard the news then, eh?” Ullo’s gray eyes don’t meet mine. “Our customs may be strange to you, but I know things will be ok in the long run. Lord Odin is a… decent enough man. He will treat you kin—“

I hold up a hand, silencing his words. “Let me be frank with you, Ullo. I will not marry that bastard. I will not share his bed. Nor his life. I will bear him no children. I will not remain within these walls. Mark my words, sir; I am no one’s property and I will not be treated as such.” With that, I stand abruptly and leave the peaceful surroundings of my husband behind. I know Ullo was just trying to help but I honestly don’t want to f*****g hear it right now. Unless the next person that tries to comfort me offers to burn this place to the ground and take me far away from this estate, I don’t want to hear it.