“You like that, huh?” I coo, dragging my nails up my stomach while he keeps groping, getting bolder now, both hands on me like I’m his.
Like I’d ever be his.
He doesn’t notice how quiet the tent’s gotten.
Doesn’t hear the hush that settles like a blade across the crowd. Poor bastard doesn’t even see the shadow moving in behind him, silent and seething.
But I do.
Hook. Line. Dumbass.
Of course Bjorn saw it all.
He knows how much I love to play.
His whole body tenses as he stalks forward, that big, brutal frame wound tight with purpose.
The firelight catches the edge of his axe, and the runes on his chest look like they’re burning from the inside out.
I don’t even finish my spin before he’s there.
One step.
Then two.
Then—boom.
Bjorn’s hand wraps around Mr. Suave’s throat and lifts him off the ground like he’s weightless—a lamb, mid-prayer, already too late.
Like he’s just a bundle of twigs to be tossed on the fire.
The crowd? Gasping. Panting. Absolutely fucking feral.
The guy flails, his horn cup falling and splattering beer across the dirt. His mask knocked crooked.
He claws at Bjorn’s wrist like that’s gonna do anything.
Please. That wrist has held me down and made me beg for mercy I didn’t even want.
Bjorn leans in real close. His face is all dark, carved, and calm—like the eye of a storm, right before it tears your spine out and leaves your soul twitching in the dirt.
The man tries to hold his ground.
His legs dangle, kicking weakly, his hands clawing at Bjorn’s wrist like that’ll do a damn thing. His eyes are wide now—wild and white, like he’s just realized he walked into something ancient and mean and holy.
“Did you think she was for you?” Bjorn growls, his voice a low, lethal purr.
The man opens his mouth. Nothing comes out but a pathetic, gasping wheeze—like a fish flopping around, already halfway gutted.
Oh, honey. It’s so cute when they can’t answer.
“She isn’t,” Bjorn growls.
Then, without a single warning, he doesn’t drop him—he swings.
Bjorn grabs the man by the jaw and slams his head against the altar stone with a sickening crack. Once. Twice. A third time, for good measure.
Skull meets stone. Stone wins.
