Duskfire Glacier [m] Oo

silent, still, unreadable—but his stomach turned.
the barbarian—skorpa, she had called him—was a grotesque thing, a beast caked in the scent of blood and battle. the kind of man who reveled in violence, who did not claim with love or promise, but with brute force. faust had known men like him before. had seen the aftermath of their victories, the way they tore through women like they did their enemies.
and yet, ayovi did not turn him away.
she was lost in the fire, trembling with need, but her voice had named the northman first. not him.
another scent drifted close—another man, watching. he felt it coil around them like a trap waiting to spring. faust took a step back, then another. his jaw clenched. he would not fight her. he would not play this game, this sick little dance that left him twisted and hollow.