Ragnar expected that his young wife was not as knowledgeable about things as an older, more experienced woman might be; it had been proven when she had spoken as if Crete’s seed (or Ragnar’s own) would not take hold. It would have been a slim possibility of one of the males, or Thistle herself were infertile. Obviously, that was not the case. The Viking’s smirk was nothing short of devilish at her coy question — at least that was how Ragnar interpreted it. Ragnar did not think he really needed to explain it to her in the way she had ‘cured’ him of the intoxicating want of her body, amplified tenfold during her heat cycle, yet he spoke, “I could remind you of how you cured me,” anyway, throwing the offer out there with a sinful smirk that would put the deadly sin to shame.
At her question the Viking gave a lofty shrug of his broad shoulders, ears slicking back to rest half mast atop his skull though his expression held no shame in it. There was no sense in hiding the truth from her now — the idea seemed ridiculous given that they were bound to one another by Viking law and witness of the Gods. What was she going to do divorce him for admitting that he had wanted her, pretty and dainty as she was even before she had gone into heat? At first, he had wanted her as another conquest. Another woman’s body he claimed and left ravished in the line behind him but Odinn had different plans for them; and gradually desire and want had morphed into something that Ragnar had never thought himself capable of: love. “I have desired you ever since the first moment I laid eyes on you,” He admitted to her freely.
“I do not want other men near you,” He teased her, moving closer to her, “It would be a shame to have to kill them if they fall in love with you.” He partially taunted her as he nibbled at the velveteen fur of her nearest ear, smoothing his rough tongue over the downy fur there, teeth pressing against flesh in a love bite knowing that those words probably made him the world’s biggest hypocrite. Especially so, given that he had disapproved of her jealousy of Nerian; even though he thought it was ridiculous because while the idea of offering a polygamy relationship to both women had, admittedly, crossed the man’s mind it was Thistle that owned his heart. And it wasn’t his fault that he was a selfish, posessive man and did not exactly like the idea of a man claiming Nerian when she belonged to him in a very literal way. “Yes, he serves under me as an aspiring warden, and as a fellow aspiring outrider,” Ragnar offered through the context of his thoughts, proving that men could, for whatever it was worth, multitask — though as far as outrider was concerned the Beta turned to his subordinate whom seemed to have more knowledge on that trade. “Both Julooke and him are also going for Gamekeeper. They keep busy, and both seem to actively seek my approval.” Despite that it wasn’t Ragnar’s approval they really needed (well maybe as far as the warden thing went but even then Pump made the final decisions).
