Brow rose into a wicked arch when he heard her, her voice husky sounding as it rose from behind him, tell him not to call her that. Priestess. He had called her Priestess from the very beginning, before he knew her name and even, obviously, after it. He did not look over his shoulder though he had paused for a hairsbreadth of a moment before trudging on to continue his ploy of claiming the borders because while it wasn’t terribly effective at distracting him it was enough to take his mind off of her to help him think with a small sliver of clarity though even that much was a struggle given that every breath of air he took was saturated with her siren’s call. It became quickly apparent to the Viking that if he waited for her to chase him off he was going to be met with overwhelming disappointment because she seemed pretty adamant on following him. Of course she did because resisting a woman in heat was bad enough, resisting a woman in heat that clearly wanted you was just about damn near impossible.
Ragnar, who was trying to put his libertine past behind him, who was trying to be loyal to his wife because he loved her something that he hadn’t been able to claim with any of his previous wives was feeling war torn. He hadn’t loved them, or any of his conquests. They had just been that: play things that satisfied him and when he was bored with them he pawned them off elsewhere. To Dagrun who did not seem to mind Ragnar’s used seconds, or neighboring packs as false peace treaties when it came to his wives. He hadn’t changed in anything else, not really, but in the aspect of women he liked to think he had; if he were to give in to Nerian now, well, he would deserve the fate Thistle had promised him because he, in turn, had promised he wouldn’t cheat on her. Even if she didn’t kill him he was an Alpha after all and he doubted his pack mates would take it that well — of course there was always the fact that they might side with her and say “he had it coming”, she had the power to leave him and the pack, and to take the children with her. Away from him. Was one woman in heat worth the pain it would cause him to lose his children? To lose Thistle and watch the pain in her face that would be like a thousand knives in his heart?
No, it wasn’t.
The Viking kept moving, determined not to break his stride, pausing only long enough to urinate on another tree. He was aware Nerian was following him, even more so when she pleaded with him again to help her with what she wanted. If things had been different she wouldn’t have even needed to ask; but things were as they were and he was trying to keep his vows to not only Thistle but Frigg who represented married women, as well.