by Garnet Hart
“He’s quite a good looking man, isn’t he?”
Garr’s voice was like a bucket of cold water splashed all over her face. It woke her up from her trance.
Swallowing, she gathered back her composure and stood straight. She didn’t turn around or the captain would see her flushed face and her dreamy eyes.
“A man that good-looking wouldn’t go peeking at girls, I suppose,” Garr added.
“Then what was he doing there?”
Garr shrugged. “He’s here for a reason, I guess.”
Asra pondered at his words and eventually smiled. Garr may be right. Just like Davina said, this man could have been attacked by animals in the forest. He survived because he wasn’t supposed to die yet, because destiny had its plan for him. He must meet the woman that he must marry, and so everything around him conspired to bring him to where he should be—right here with her.
“He must be the prince that I’ve been searching for,” she whispered with a smile. When she heard Garr’s loud laughter, she turned around and found him shaking his head.
She thought she had outgrown being a little girl who enjoyed day-dreaming of fairy tales, but here she was again.
“You still believe you have a prince out there who’s looking for you?” he asked, amused.
She felt her cheeks burning in embarrassment, but there was no use denying it. Garr had known this secret of hers ever since she learned how to dream. She might as well stand up to it.
“He is here now.”
Garr laughed louder. “Are you sure that’s a prince and not a thief?”
“As you said, he’s a good-looking man. He must be a prince or some sort.”
Still laughing, Garr headed for the door. “You women are fond of silly fantasies. Don’t stay too long. I’ll be outside.”
His impertinence had always irritated her. Garr never spoke to her with deference like all her father’s subjects. But his loyalty cannot be questioned.
She chose to ignore him.
“I’ll just take a look at his wounds.”
“And I thought you’d kill him yourself?” Garr taunted and disappeared out of the door.
She took a deep breath. That man could not only smell her whereabouts but her girlish fantasies, as well.
She returned to her prisoner and bit down the smile on her lips.
She almost wished he was a statue, so she could keep him forever, so she could flaunt him all over Scotland. All her lady friends would be jealous of her.
She had lived in London for years when a war erupted between the clan of MacLeod and MacDonald, but she had never found any man who’d come close in comparison with this one.
Her eyes travelled down his neck and chest. She had hated the mat of hair on her father’s chest, but on this man, hair was quite attractive. His chest was wide, his pectorals packed with solid muscles. And just like all other warriors she had seen, his skin was tanned as though he spent a lot of time under the sun, but to her amazement, he had not a single scar on him.
Her fingers tingled with the urge to touch him. She had never seen a naked man before, and she was dying to know what lay underneath the sheet covering him from his stomach down to his feet.
Glancing at the door to make sure nobody was looking, she slowly reached out and pulled the blanket down. Every inch of skin that revealed itself amazed her. There was a bandage wrapped around his waist. She wished to see all of him, every millimeter of his skin.
More muscles flexed on his abdomen as he breathed. A line of dark hair started just below his navel.
That must be it. She was coming closer to her goal. She had never been this curious to see that part of a man...
She took a deep breath to calm her shaking fingers before she pulled the sheet lower. She followed the line of hair which led to a thicker patch and below it rose a column of rigid flesh that took her breath away.
She couldn’t tell if it was amazement or horror that she felt as she stared at his maleness.
Goodness, he was huge! And thick, almost like the width of her wrist. The tip somewhat resembled a shape of a mushroom. It was shiny and looked velvety smooth, and over it glistened a droplet of whitish fluid.
She remembered what her aunt told her that such state of a man meant he was aroused.
She gasped belatedly upon realizing this. Yes, indeed, this man was aroused! Was he dreaming?
Her curiosity made her bolder. She slowly reached out to touch the glistening head of his maleness.
At the first touch, she yanked her hand instantly like she just came in contact with a glowing ember. He was so warm! Then she tried again, stroking her thumb over the glowing red head.
She smiled as she learned more of men, especially of this man. As she had expected, it felt soft and silky.
She glided her fingers lower to the base of its length. It was hard and hot, like burning steel wrapped within a soft sheet of silk. And the veins that seemed like a décor around it, she could feel the blood pulsing through them...
“Hmmm.”
Immediately, she let go of him and stepped back. For a moment, she was terrified that he had awakened, but it did not seem like it. If he did, she’d knock him back to sleep to save herself the embarrassment of being caught groping him. Just what was she doing?
She must leave now before Garr caught her doing such unladylike conduct.
Carefully, she tugged the sheet back over his chest and left. She found Garr leaning on the wall a short distance from the door. He was busy polishing his sword.
She passed by him, hoping he wouldn’t say a word.
“You’ve seen something that you shouldn’t have, haven’t you, Miss?”
She stopped and turned toward him. “What do you mean?” She put on an innocent face.
Garr smiled knowingly. “Your face is saying something.”
She swallowed, too ashamed to either deny or confirm. She knew her cheeks had turned beet red. This man was really something.
“I was just curious,” she said and turned away. She heard Garr laughing behind her but she did not bother with him anymore.
Back in her room, she remembered everything that she saw. Beautiful was all that she could describe him, and perfect for a chieftess’ husband.
But there was one problem. She was engaged to marry the heir-apparent of clan MacDonald, arranged by the two Chiefs to ascertain peace between the clans. However, she just found the right man that was meant to be her husband. She knew it the second she saw his face.
She could not tell how, but she was sure of herself. She wanted that prisoner. And she will have him.
Lior opened his eyes.
The first thing he felt was the tight pressure in his groin. Damnation! He hated waking up with an erection, most especially if there were no goddesses around to ease his ache.
He had been dreaming of a woman bathing naked in the river, and then she came to him and touched him. He could still feel her little fingers stroking him.
His eyes widened as the memory became clear. That wasn’t a dream. It was real. He followed that Elf deep into the forest so he could kill her, and then someone shot him...
“Damn it!” He quickly got up and unwrapped the cloth around his stomach to check on the wound on his rib. The skin had closed and he could not find any scar on his skin, but he could still feel the sharp pain underneath his flesh. He had healed from the outside but not completely on the inside. For a hybrid Lycan Alpha like himself, his wounds healed much faster than the ordinary pure-bred Lycans, without leaving any scar. But this one was different. It might take another day or two before it could fully heal.
What was it that they shot him with? It pierced his skin cleanly. It rendered him helpless. It made him lose consciousness. It was even sharper than the weapons forged by the Elves and Dwarves and he had very tough skin.
He cursed again. For something to hurt a Lycan Alpha like that was a matter of utmost concern. These humans seemed to have invented new weapons against the L
ycans and the gods. It must be investigated and stopped.
And where was he?
He looked around him.
He was in a dark prison cell, probably underground for he could smell rotten corpses of both humans and animals wafting in the air.
Damn these humans! This was no way to treat a god!
He stood up from the bed, unmindful of his nakedness and approached the door.
Humiliation washed over him when he remembered what he was doing before he was shot.
He was too busy lusting over a naked woman that he had not paid attention to his surroundings. He lost his mind. This had never happened to him before.
That woman was not even a goddess. She was just a human. A half Elf. She was not even worthy of his attention. Well, he had paid her so much attention that he got shot and now he was in this dungeon.
Damn him. Damn his horny dick.
He touched the iron bars of the doorway and studied it. It looked tough, but not tough enough to restrain him. He could break this without much effort.
A giant of a man suddenly appeared before him. He was taller than he was, and bigger.
He looked up to see his face. It may be dark, but Lycans could see very well within the dark as clearly as day.
His eyes widened in shock.
“Garr?” he blurted in disbelief.
A smile slowly crossed the giant’s face. “So you still remember me, Commander Lior of the Elite Forces of Asgard?”
Lior stared menacingly at Garr as they stood inside his prison cell. Who would have thought that he’d find the missing Alpha general right here as if this encounter was fated to take place? It had been so long since the last time he’d seen this man, and he had always believed that he had passed away a long time ago. He had even grieved for his loss, had crafted a statue to honor his courage. He was so glad to learn the Lycan was still alive. But he was making him do something abhorrent.
“For Odin’s sake, Garr, I am not wearing this damn skirt.”
Garr smiled as he glanced down the yellow fabric with black and red linings wrapped around his waist. The general said it was the official attire in that country, especially for the men of the MacLeod. It was a great honor for the highlanders to be wearing such a thing, and that it made them respectable in the eyes of the people. But he didn’t care. He still refused to wear the kilt.
“It looks good on you, my lord,” Garr taunted which had Lior fume in anger.
“You disgrace Asgard wearing that skirt,” he mocked, glancing at the skirt that Garr proudly wore.
Garr’s face turned stern. “I no longer serve Asgard. No matter what you think of this skirt, I wear it with honor and dignity.”
“How long have you been in this place?”
“A long time now,” Garr replied. “Even before the Miss was born.”
Miss? He probably meant that half-Elf that he failed to kill the night before. The memory of her suddenly had his blood coursing fast through his veins. His cock twitched again. Thank Odin for the cursed skirt. It had its use after all.
“You, a general of Asgard, one of the few remaining Alphas, allow yourself to be a servant of humans?” he mocked Garr.
Garr’s face remained placid, unaffected. “Whether I serve gods or humans, it doesn’t make a difference. I’m still a servant.”
Lior could not believe what he heard. “It is an honor to serve the gods. Humans try all their lives to be chosen as Einherjar upon their deaths just to serve Asgard, but very few make it. While you… you’re not an Einherjar. You’re a general.”
“As I said. I don’t see any difference.”
“Have you gone mad? I cannot believe you’d choose to be in this primitive place than in Asgard.”
Garr crossed his arms. “You’re just as arrogant as the gods you serve.”
“Gods have all the right to be arrogant, general.”
“You disappoint your father.”
“Fenrir is a loyal servant of Asgard as well,” he defended.
“Because he made a pledge to Odin. He was bound by it all his life.”
Lior thought about his father. Yes, Fenrir, the famous beast of Asgard and the former King of Vanar, the world of the Lycans, was his father. He now served Asgard as Odin’s battle strategist and Asgard had never lost a single battle ever since.
“And because it is the right thing to do,” Lior added.
Garr scoffed. “Why do you regard your gods like they’re the mightiest of all creatures?”
“Because they are. We are.”
“Oh yeah!” Garr sneered. “I forgot your mother is a goddess. Why are you here? Have you come to kill us?”
Lior was silent for a moment. He didn’t understand why Garr thought that way. “My task here doesn’t concern you. Certainly, I had not expected to find you here, but my father wished that I’d search for you.”
“He did? Why?”
“Not sure. He only wanted me to send you a message, that he was sorry.”
Garr smiled was sarcastically, and then he laughed. “Go back to Asgard and tell Fenrir that we have found our home. We don’t need him anymore.”
His forehead wrinkled. “You’re serious. You truly decided to remain here? With these humans around you?”
“Why not? Humans are better masters than gods, don’t you know?”
Lior laughed. This man was humoring him. “You’ve stooped so low, general. You are no longer worthy to be a warrior of Asgard. I might as well proclaim you dead.”
Garr didn’t even look like he would care. “Please do. And don’t bother searching for us anymore.”
“So, there are others here?”
Garr nodded.
“Where are they?”
Garr smiled. “How would you see them? You’re a prisoner.”
Lior narrowed his eyes. “I can get out of here if I choose to. I allowed myself to be imprisoned not because I fear you but because I don’t want any troubles here. Now, answer my question. Where are the others?”
Garr sighed. “You will meet them later, but first you have to see the Chief’s daughter. She’s waiting for you at the hall.”
“I’m not getting out of here in this skirt.”
“Please, my lord.”
He stared at the old Lycan general. Garr had served his father well until the Asgardians came and took Vanar. He had nothing but good memories of this Lycan since he was just a boy and heir-apparent to Vanar. Garr was no doubt the most loyal warrior of his father’s army.
Truth be told, he’d missed this old Lycan very much.
“Very well. Afterwards, take me to the rest of the pack. I must speak with them.”
“As you wish.”
They stepped out of the cell and climbed a set of stairs. Talking about who just stooped so low. Him. He couldn’t believe he allowed himself to be imprisoned for a day and came out wearing feminine clothes!
On their long way out until they emerged into the hall, Garr was talking about the previous chiefs of the MacLeods who had resided in the Dunvegan Castle. He spoke of the battles and of the efforts they had done to build what Garr referred as a magnificent castle.
He was amused. They called this puny castle magnificent?
Garr seemed to know exactly what Lior had in mind. “I know it does not come near as grand as the castles in Asgard, but the humans that they often regard as lowly and weak managed to build something like this without the help of the artifacts that the gods always depend upon. Many years from now, they can build more. They can create a place that’s even more beautiful than Valhalla.”
Lior stopped and looked at his former general. He wanted to beat the hell out of the Lycan. He dared compare the humans with gods? Such insult!
“Shut your mouth and take me to that woman before I’m forced to strangle your neck,” he warned, but the former general just smiled.
“This way,” Garr said and gestured to a passage made of fine marble. At the end of it was a big wooden door. That must be the throne
room of the chief.
Lior stopped when he recognized the two guards standing on each side of the door. More Lycans. They had fought dozens of battles together. They had been friends and their disappearance had crushed him. He had mourned their deaths for days. And now he’d found them standing before him.
He didn’t know what to think. Part of him was glad, but part of him wanted to murder the hell out of these Lycans. How could they have abandoned the force and made everyone believe they were dead?
So this was probably the reason why Odin assigned him for this job, because the Elf that he was going to kill was guarded by Lycans.
“How many more of you are here?” he asked Garr, infuriated.
“Dozens. And we all work for the Chief.”
Lior shoved the general out of his way and kicked the big door open.
Inside, he found the woman sitting in her father’s throne. She gasped loudly, eyes wide in shock.
But she quickly recovered. “How dare you barge in here like a savage?! Don’t you know how to knock?”
Lior stared on her. Her anger only enhanced the glow of her emerald eyes. She looked even more beautiful than last night.
Ignoring her fury, he studied her whole body. Her yellow hair was braided in two, hanging on both her shoulders and the green headband she wore matched the color of her low-collared gown.
He swallowed as she stared at the deep valley on her chest created by her generous breasts pressed together by the tight bodice of her dress. The image of her puckered red nipples came back to him.
His mouth watered. He wanted to suck—
Holy Odin! What was happening to him? This must stop at once. He was a god. No humans, no matter how beautiful she looked, could be worthy of him.
He stood before her and acted like the god that he was. “I’ve not much time to waste, woman.”
Her eyes opened wider, obviously not liking what he said. “You think you’re wasting your time on me?”
Before he could answer, Garr nudged his elbow. “Kneel.”
Lior’s brows furrowed. “What?”
