CHAPTER FOUR

Ragnar casually picked up a towel, draping it around his waist with a nonchalant ease.

The smirk on his face didn't waver as Astrid hastily averted her gaze, a flush of embarrassment still coloring her cheeks.

"I apologize I didn't mean to intrude," she stammered, her tone carrying an unexpected humility that surprised even herself.

Ragnar chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to reverberate through the room. "You were late and I had to prepare my bath myself." he said. "Be prompt next time, or I might double up on your duties. Never be late again."

Astrid's jaw clenched, irritation replacing embarrassment and whatever momentary butterflies that were in her stomach.

She gathered her materials in a swift motion, refusing to dignify his comment with a response.

Without sparing him another glance, she exited the room, the heavy door closing behind her with a definitive thud.

Once safely outside, the cool air of the corridor helped quell the lingering heat on her cheeks.

Astrid took a deep breath, reminding herself that in due time, she would eventually find a way to leave this hellhole and all would be well again.

With that, she made her way back to her room and collapsed face–down onto the bed

The image of Ragnar's naked form played over and over in her mind and she groaned in frustration, wishing that the thoughts would go away.

But the resistance to not think about them made them linger the more, and they were persistently tugging at her memory.

Why couldn't she stop entertaining the image of his naked body?

She was supposed to be revolted, disgusted by the very sight of him.

This was Ragnar, the man responsible for so much pain. She was supposed to forbid the thoughts immediately, but it seemed like she was the purposely letting them stay in her head.

Seeing him naked had evoked something in her, something that she had not felt in a long while and hell, she hated the fact that she was feeling these things for Ragnar.

The desire that gripped her from beholding him and his—dare she say it—huge…member, was like a magnetic force.

What was more annoying?

It wasn't just the attraction; it was the realization that she wasn't as unaffected by him as she'd like to believe.

She rolled over, now facing the ceiling and closed her eyes. She hated Ragnar, and yet the forbidden desire of that moment clung to her thoughts.

The image persisted, as if etched to her mind. She shook her head, trying to dispel the intoxicating thoughts, yet they still lingered.

Seeing her mate naked was driving her hormones crazy and all she wanted to do at that point was rush into his arms and kiss him—that was if it was someone else but Ragnar

Involuntarily, she found herself tightening her legs together. She hated and loved it at the same time and the more she continued to think about his sculpted physique.

Was it his broad shoulders and defined muscles?

Or was it the tattoos that adorned his chest and arms?

Could it be the scars that crisscrossed his torso?

Or maybe it was how attractive his tattoos and scars intertwined?

His veins…oh, his veins…

They traced the contour of his arms and what she would do to be held by those arms, to be gripped tightly by them and to have them around her neck choking her as he pushed it into her…

Fuck.

As the towel draped low around his waist, the defined lines of his abdomen and the subtle 'V' leading downward to his…

Control yourself, Astrid!

She had to warn herself and also remind herself that this was Ragnar…she shouldn't be having these thoughts about him. She hated him.

But do you know what was stronger than her hatred?

This stupid mate bond and the intense desire it filled her with to just fucking matr with him!

Nevertheless, she was a virgin—-a virgin that read way too many romance books.

Her father had instilled the values to keep her virginity for her mate and that was what she was doing.

However, she and her father had envisioned that her mate would be some nice guy, not one who had tried to kill her a couple of times.

But she got Ranger—sexy Ragnar.

Ew, no! Stop thinking about his sexiness, Astrid!

But she couldn't stop, she found herself tightening her legs even further.

She let out a sigh, shutting her eyes again as her hand left her side…slowly making its way underneath her skirt.

She wasn't thinking…she was just going for it; illogical actions like this do not need thoughts, or else you might back-out from doin it.

She pulled down on her panties, her fingers taking a swipe of the wetness that had already pooled in her core.

Was she really going to masturbate to Ragnar's naked mental image?

Don't think about it, she reminded herself.

Her fingers moved around her throbbing clitoris, gently caressing it as she imagined it was Ragnar's fingers there.

A gentle moan escaped her lips as she started to increase the pace, the motion of her fingers against the fold of flesh increasing.

She began to flick her clit, now biting her lower lip as the pleasure started to well up….

Maybe if she could climax, she would satisfy the desire and forget all about Ragnar.

So, she flicked on her clit harder, the bed starting to shake as she made more vigorous movements.

Another moan escaped her lips and her other hand reached to grab her breast from underneath her shirt.

Her fingers moved around her swollen, hard nipples, pinching them as she continued to touch herself.

"Oh fuck…" she drawled, her toes curling as the pressure built up, reaching its peak.

And with one last flick, she attained climax and a louder moan escaped her lips as the effects of the orgasm spread through her body.

The pleasure wracked her body and she writhed, vibrating and she felt herself dripping onto the bed.

Maybe now…she could stop thinking about him.

-:-

Ragnar stood in front of the mirror in his lavishly furnished bedroom, dressing up as he awaited her.

But then, his thoughts drifted to what had just happened.

Astrid.

The girl had seen his nakedness.

Normally, such an action was an unthinkable offense, punishable by severe measures. He was the Lycan King and he was royalty…his nakedness was sacred.

But he couldn't punish her, the mate bond had not been severed and he couldn't hurt her.

He couldn't even scold her, because for some reason…he had enjoyed her looking at him.

Disgusting. This mate bond was making him fucking illogical because how on earth would he enjoy the murderer of his wife staring at him naked?

That bond had to be served, as soon as possible.

How could he even possible have another mate in the first place?

Francia was his mate and she passed, was it that the gods were giving him another mate or he was always destined to have two mates?

Hmm. He never knew.

Just then, he heard a knock on his door. He was snapped out of his thoughts.

His eyes turned to the door, his deep voice resonating through the room, "Lilith?"

"Yes, my Lord. It is me." A sultry affirmation escaped her lips.

Ragnar sat down at the edge of his bed, "Come in." He said and the door creaked open.

Lilith made her entrance and Ragnar beheld her beauty.

She was in a sexy attire, alluring yet regal. It accentuated her curves and the neckline dipped low enough to show a fair amount of her breasts, leaving little to the imagination.

"My Lord," she greeted with a bow, a smile curving her lips.

The impregnating is usually done by artificial insemination all the time, but Ragnar always enjoyed having a taste of the girl beforehand—after all, she had to be disvirgined as giving birth as a virgin would be quite painful.

It was a taboo for the lycan king to be with anybody but a virgin or someone who he had disvirgined.

Ragnar gestured towards the space beside him on the bed, and Lilith gracefully took her place.

As she settled in, she began to speak, "So, King Ragnar, tell me something interesting about yourself. What do you enjoy when you're not busy ruling the kingdom?" she inquired, attempting to draw him into a casual conversation.

He shot her a steely glance and retorted, "My personal life is none of your concern, Lilith. That's not why I called you here."

Her eyes widened in embarrassment and a scowl threatened to form on her lips at the way he had rudely spoken to her. But she maintained composure, her lips curving back into the alluring smile.

"I-I'm sorry, King Ragnar. I didn't mean to overstep," she apologized.

Ragnar responded, "You're not here to ask questions. You're here for a purpose," he declared, "Now, take off your clothes."

Lilith nodded, getting up on her feet. She stood before Ragnar and began to peel off her attire.

She locked eyes with him, a seductive glint in her gaze and the way she slowly took off the dress.

She was hoping to impress him, excite him even further but the dead look in his eyes did not waver.

She did not relent regardless and soon, she was stark naked in front of him, her dress pooling underneath her.

Ragnar's eyes accessed her, moving inch by inch around her body and taking in every detail—her round hips were her most flattering characteristics, good for childbirth and most excellent to grip while he pounded her.

His eyes moved upwards, taking note of her breast. A handful, perky with already erect and pink nipples. They were appealing to the eyes, but he wasn't going to have any business with them.

"Get on the bed." He instructed and she nodded.

She moved swiftly to the bed, getting on top of it and positioning herself in an arch—a perfect arc, revealing her already glistening vagina.

Ragnar's brows furrowed, "You're a virgin?" He asked and she tilted her head to face him, nodding in affirm.

His fingers clipped his chin as he took in the information. A virgin with an already perfect arc?

Sensing Ragnar's doubts in her chastity, Lilith spoke up, "I practice my arc a lot. My father makes his daughters take lessons on how to please a man…for moments like these." she explained.

He kept mute for a while, digesting the information. When he was satisfied and believed the logic, he nodded.

Ragnar started to take off his clothes and mounted himself behind her.

His dick was already hard, and not because he was face–to–face with Lilith's pussy, it was because for some reason, he imagined that it was Astrid arched before him.

And that was enough to turn him on.

He grunted, pushing the thoughts aside and he stepped closer to her and took his dick into his hand, stationing it at her entrance.

"It will hurt, are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes, my Lord." She answered.

With that, he inserted his cock into her slit. The entrance was tight, but with a few trusts, he was soon able to penetrate.

Once it was in, she let out a small yelp. He pushed it in further, and she cried out again all through the movement. He paused, giving her a moment to recollect herself.

And then, he started to pound into her, hard and she was a mix of pained yelps and pleasured moans—until a few more thrusts in, when the pleasure replaced the pain and she could barely contain herself to keep mute.

However, no matter how hard Ragnar tried to push the thoughts away, he couldn't stop imagining—and wishing—that it was Astrid he was fucking.