To Rule the Alpha's Heart

10. Dragon Heart

EINARR FJERSTÄD

Einarr did not dare return to Calla's tent that night.

He scarcely allowed himself to think of his human mate– let alone sleep beside her. And yet, she was ingrained upon him. The sight of her moon-kissed hair billowing in the breeze. The white lace and silk that begged to be torn off of her body. The fragranced oil that she'd lathered into her milky skin, mingling with the tantalizing scent of her...

Einarr had been discussing his tribute to the Alpha King with his closest advisors when he inhaled it. He'd turned around and nearly came undone at the sight of her.

But he'd also sensed a shift among his men. His four closest advisors and strongest warriors were sorely missing the touch of a female, and they were not blind to Calla's beauty. Einarr smelt their desire and barely resisted the urge to take a blade to each male's eyes. It took every ounce of his self-control to cross the deck, take his little mate in his arms, and return her to the safety of their tent.

It was even more difficult for Einarr to leave her there– alone and untouched.

She'd taken his hand and placed it above her breast, whispering words of feigned willingness. He could still feel the warmth of her bosom seeping into his palm. Could still hear the little sigh that escaped her parted lips when their skin made contact... If Calla was any other female, Einarr would have pushed her onto all fours and had his way– rough, unrelenting.

But Einarr heard his mate's feeble, human heart pounding in her chest. He sensed the fear that leaked from beneath her eager mask. And he remembered the sound of the sobs that shook her entire body when he first tried to join with her. The memory of that night haunted him.

He did not understand what might have changed in his little mate to bring about her wanton behavior. He did not care. He would not witness such despair in her pale blue orbs again.

And so he avoided her. Einarr busied his mind with preparations for the King and slept alongside his pack members that night.

When he awoke, the longships sailed beside the coast of Roandör– the stronghold of Nortend. The fortress of the only male that wielded power over Einarr. The den of the Alpha King.

                                                                                              ☽☽☽

Einarr oversaw the docking of his three longships in the Roandör fjord. As soon as the vessels were secure, his men began unloading the crates and barrels of goods– spices and gold and crops– from the boats. Next, the human captors were shuffled from the decks of the two smaller longships, their hands bound by rope and chain, prepared for the King's tribute.

Einarr watched, arms crossed against his bare chest, as his men gathered the two dozen humans on the shore, placing them beside the other cargo that would be gifted to the Alpha King and All Luna.

The raids yielded a smaller harvest that year, which worried him. In truth, Einarr had been counting on gathering strong, capable men and women from Calla's precious city, Berlynne, to fulfill the Onyx Craven Pack's offering. The King wouldn't be pleased that his strongest warlord failed to pay proper homage...

"Einarr?" A cool, female voice penetrated the Alpha's thoughts, and he turned to face his young mate.

She'd been given proper clothing, at least. Clad in a dark wool dress and fur-lined cloak, the human female would be protected from the cold and wandering eyes, although Einarr knew that no amount of plain furs or wool dresses would hide Calla from the Alpha King. The renowned ruler enjoyed conquering women, especially those that belonged to another.

Einarr's blood burned hot at the very thought, but he managed to subdue the primal rage to greet his woman. "Marana."

Calla's eyes did not hold the same desire as last night. Now, her blue orbs were frosted, her lips drawn into a frown. "Do not give those humans to the Alpha King."

Her order washed over Einarr, and every muscle in his body stiffened. He was unaccustomed to receiving commands from anyone– shifter or otherwise. And those that dared to try to control him rarely survived for long. There were many things that Einarr's human mate needed to learn, and this was one of them.

He frowned, brows furrowing. "No?"

Calla inhaled deep and took a slow, methodical step closer to him. Einarr's wolf thrummed to life at her proximity.

"No," she confirmed, eyes flickering over the ship's railing toward the humans gathered on the shore. "These people, my people, deserve freedom. They should not be slaves."

"It is the way." He did not have the time to explain this to Calla now, and he would not argue with a human, even his mate.

Einarr turned, eager to leave this conversation behind and join his men on the Nortend shores, but Calla caught his forearm in one of her hands.

"It should not be the way," she hissed.

Fire burned in his veins beneath her touch, and Einarr's eyes snapped to the point where her fingers clamped around the thick cords of muscle in his forearm. If anyone else dared to touch him in such a way, he'd break every last bone in their hand. Instead, he easily twisted his arm out of her grasp and reversed their positions. Now, Einarr's fingers wrapped around her wrist, so thin that he could break it in half.

A low growl vibrated in his chest. "Careful, drekihjar."

The name suited the white-haired female, for she truly possessed the heart of a dragon within her frail human body. Such a dangerous combination...

Calla gasped, her breath fanning Einarr's face as she struggled to free her wrist from his iron hold. "P-please! There is a girl– a child– of only fourteen years! A-and a woman who cannot speak..."

Upon hearing his mate's plight, Eianrr's grip loosened in the slightest, but he did not release her. Not yet. Not when he reveled in her nearness.

His frown deepened. He knew the two humans that Calla spoke of. One was a young girl that had not yet grown into her limbs but showed potential. The other was an able-bodied woman that lacked a voice. She had been handed over to Einarr by her own village, unwanted. Were these truly the women that Calla wished for?

"You desire this?" he murmured, utterly confused by Calla's choice.

She blinked, releasing a ragged breath. "Yes."

Einarr slowly nodded, finally dropping Calla's wrist. She took a quick step back. "These women will be yours, then. My gift to you."

He thought that Calla would have been pleased, but her eyes widened and tears glossed their surface. "N-no, I do not want slaves. I want–" she paused, then bowed her head. Her voice was uncharacteristically small– meek– when she spoke again. "Thank you, Alpha."

Calla turned, keeping her head down as she returned to Cyril's side. The translator placed a hand on the girl's back, murmuring something in the Eatrelan tongue. Einarr could not even find it in himself to grow angry at the sight of another man touching his mate.

The Alpha only felt empty, all too aware that he'd failed to bring his Luna happiness once again.