A soft, breezy exhalation left him over Genn's joke but otherwise he didn't react, instead, focused on straightening his trousers overtop of his shirt. He was still grappling with the inner turmoil of forced convention and propriety standards and the selfish, surly ego that had him internally brooding about the status quo. He was a fucking Alpha and he'd earned that place among his people. Why did he have to suffer a woman he didn't care for, or hold back and lie about the prize he'd captured?
When the warrior grabbed him, he had Rek's sudden attention, a fatigued grimace flashing into being on his features. Instantly, he was defensive over the harsh touch of the other man, his ire ignited by the disrespectful tone from his slave. But he was stopped, his throat closed off from any hissed reply when as he watched, Genn seemed to lose some of his momentum. It was a second and gone but for just a couple moments, Genn's words seemed at odds with the look in his eyes. As the warrior gruffly discarded Rek with a shove that barely swayed the Gamatom on his feet,
he hid a knowing grin at his back, the expression tucked neatly away by the time Genn had plopped to sit upon his bed.
For all his frustrations to keep things hidden from his people, it seemed Genn was struggling with some frustrations of his own...aside from those imposed by his captive state. It emboldened Rek, even in the current stress of his circumstances and his commitments, at least this one thing could eventually be his. Although, as the warrior refused food, it did stump the Gamatom a little bit, wondering how to get past the wall between them. Noticing the independence and choices that had come to the captive warrior after being freed, Rek surmised that a little less aggressive authority might go a long way.
"No. You're not."
The nod he gave was pensive and slight, admitting that truthfully, he didn't want a pet. He'd grabbed Genn for his passion and ferocity and he hardly expected that from a caged bird. So, he agreed; Verlyn was wrong to call the warrior that, even if at the moment, he was basically in the position of a slave "wife."
"Am I feeding ghosts!? Get your asses out here!"
A shiver ran up Rek's form at the shrill sound of Verlyn's voice calling them from the front room but his ice blue eyes were bright, a grin of amusement tugging at his lips. When his voice came, it was a low murmur, barely above a whisper.
"She's not my wife."
A finality pervaded his tone. There was also a cold sadness about it, the admission deep and conflicted in all the things he didn't say, lingering around the words as they hung on the air between them. He didn't say that he didn't want her to be, nor that he didn't have any true interest in a wife period. If he had his way, he would have the sons and leave the domestic feminine presence out of his life. He didn't say how real Genn's threat was, what he could destroy if he made good on the implication to tell someone. Likely as not, being a slave, no one would believe him...but they might. It'd be an ugly, damaging rumor to start. He didn't say that it scared him or even worried him, although that fear was exactly what kept him from rejecting Verlyn altogether.
Rek lingered just a moment longer, staring at the warrior on his bed before walking from the room to join Verlyn at his dinner table. The room he left Genn in was typical of Gamatom warrior's private spaces. With four walls, it looked longer than it was wide, with only a few decorations upon the walls, consisting of deer skins, old retired weapons - from his boyhood trainings and first raids; a stone axe blade still sported dried blood from a raid he'd been on at 16 - and shields. The fire pit was built into the middle of the floor, thick stone bordering its edges, a long, dark chimney vent above it catching the smoke that drifted from it. The bed, piled high with lush skins and woven blankets, the bedding stuffed with feathers and straw as they'd learned to do from captured slaves, was up against one wall near the back wall where Genn had been chained. Nearby, a chest, sporting tentacles and ocean waves, was filled with clothes. An extra pair of boots and battle leathers were set on the floor beside it.
Against the opposite wall was a long table cluttered with weaponry in various stages of construction. Being battle oriented as a people, Gamatom pastimes included sparring, training, and making weapons and armor. A deconstructed hilt of labradorite sat among metal pieces and leather twine. A section of wood with a bas relief of similar designs that marked the door frame to the building, sat amongst all of the other personal effects, the carving sloppy and a little crude, obviously a practice. And in the corner by the bed, near where Rek had undressed to wash himself, were leaning 3 hilted swords, an unstrung bow, and a metal-bladded axe.
"Where is the dog?"
It was Verlyn's first question to him as he left his private chambers and instantly, it threatened to squash his restored mood. He shook it off as he came to sit at his table in front of one of the bowls she'd set out.
"Don't call him that. He'll be eating later."
"He's filthy. And soft. Why have you brought him here?"
Rek paused, carved spoon in his hand, halted poised above the bowl. "I wanted someone to train with."
Verlyn snorted derisively, folding her arms across her bosom. "As if you don't have plenty of warriors to train with. You can spar with
me."
He glanced up at her,
amused over the offer, scooping up some of the hearty stew she'd cooked for him, talking between chewing mouthfuls of succulent meat and roots. "I always beat you, though. Besides, I'll learn nothing new if I always fight the same people. I know all of Arly's moves and the way the other Alphas fight. Other than them, there's nobody in the clan who can present a challenge for me. Who knows? Maybe I've gotten stale too? The warrior was hard to take down...he surprised me. I took him on a whim. He might help me improve my own skills, get some new moves."
"Pfft! As if you can learn anything new from conquered people's."
Rekard shook his head, huffing softly as he stirred the thick stew idly. "If that were true, we wouldn't have stone houses now, would we?"
"Speaking of...when are you going to move me into your stone castle?" she asked, lowering her arms as she gave him an expectant look.
She seemed to soften a bit with the inquiry, a vulnerability and yearning entering her manner. It occurred to him, as it had many times before during their more intimate moments, how unfair it was for her. Verlyn did all of these things, pursuing him aggressively, and he never really gave her any indication that he didn't intend to marry her, except for his silence when asked the big questions. As it was now, his lips forming a grim line as he looked away from her, the silence drawing out.
And just like that, her walls were up again, the fire flaring up inside her, her presence suddenly full of the promise of violence. Rather than taking it out on him further, seemingly feeling like he wasn't worth it, Verlyn turned with a whip of her wild hair over her shoulders, her bone and metal bracelets clinking as she stomped to his front door. As she neared it, the door opened and Arly stepped through, the other male Gamatom stepping aside with raised eyebrows when he saw her.
"Oi, Verlyn," he muttered in a mild, friendly greeting.
"Oi," she said through gritted teeth, obviously not mad at him, but with too much on her mind to make much more of an attempt to be nice.
She left with the door thumping heavily shut behind her. When Arly turned to Rekard, the other Gamatom shook his head with a beleaguered sigh, returning to his meal rather than comment on it further. It was the same old thing anyway, Arly figured, coming over to the table and the other bowl set out there. As he sat down getting ready to dig into the delicious, fragrant food, he glanced up at his friend who sat at his right at the head of the table.
"Warm homecoming, aye? I saw your brother as we were unloading. Pesterin' Aoife again."
That gave Rekard pause. His younger brother...Opie. A bit of a disappointment, Opie neither had the physique nor the strength of will to make a good Gamatom warrior. Timidity and lack of discipline were his faults, keeping him from besting even elderly savages in the towns they raided. At best, he didn't get killed; at worst, he ran from battle. After half a dozen times found retreating conflict, hiding until most of the enemy was dead or defeated, Opie had been banned from going on raids. He was tasked with staying at Homestead and training to better his combat skills and build muscle. He spent that time annoying their father and his slave wives by being a shiftless lazabout in his house, tending animals, and chasing women. As of late, pretty Aoife had his attentions and it was unfortunate and embarrassing because she wouldn't give him the time of day. Rightfully so. Opie might have been the brother of an Alpha but he couldn't be further from it, simpering and insecure, albeit persistent in his dogged coaxings. There was nothing more unattractive than a Gamatom man following after a woman like a pup at her heels.
"I'll have to do something about it sooner or later," Rek sighed. "He didn't pick up a sword at all while we were home last and I doubt he did so while we were gone."
Arly sneered breezily and shrugged, slurping down spoonfuls of stew. "Just leave him. 25 fuckin' suns. Men his age have at least one good raid under their belts, if not more. He's a hopeless disgrace."
Rek wanted to agree but he couldn't. Most men would just leave Opie to wallow in his shame, to grow old in it. But being brothers and being a leader of the clan, Rekard felt some measure of responsibility to lift the other man up from his state of dishonor, if only to relieve the burden he was upon the community. There was still time, Opie was a youngish man and could still rise up to at least mediocre status among the Gamatoms if he simply trained and got a few kills under his belt. At least it would lift up his prospects for a wife from zero.
Chewing lightly, Arly glanced around, his eyes finally settling on the doorway to the back room, jerking his chin at it. "How's...your
mate?" Rek huffed over that, which Arly smirked at, covering the expression with his spoonful going into his mouth. "You called him that. Is it everythin' you dreamed about on the shipride home? I assumed you'd be getting into it as soon as you had him through the door."
"He's..." Rek paused, shooting a glance back at the doorway, uncertain if Genn would even bother listening if he could hear them. "...willful."
"Pffft! Aye! I saw that! Fricking tongue in his head and bold as shite. Five Gamatoms in a small boat with him and he still mouths off like we might not just kill him if it gets too troublesome."
"I wouldn't do that," Rek clicked his tongue, talk of Genn and his stubbornness bringing a bit of melancholy to his manner.
"Say it fuckin' louder," Arly sneered. "I'm sure he'd like to know that there are zero consequences if he were ever to defy you."
"He's not scared to die."
Arly rolled his eyes over that as he rose from his seat, holding his empty bowl in one hand, getting ready to go to the pot for a second helping. "Is that why he's not eating?"
Rek shook his head. "Verlyn called him my pet, so, I think he's refusing, to make a point."
Arly snorted over that, asking, "Does he drink at least?"
Wandering over to the bedroom doorway,
Arly leaned to glance in, giving the room a quick scan to make sure everything was alright, while also making note of the brooding warrior. Meanwhile, Rek frowned to himself, thinking over the question. He liked ale well enough but it had been the watered down version they brought on voyages and raids, since water soured in the ship's hull unless alcohol was present to keep it clean. The Gamatoms had regular ale of course, paired well with meals, but also a much more potent liquor that they called Fire Water. Probably the one thing they hadn't stolen from anyone else, coming up with their own fermentation techniques and using sweet and spicy herbs that grew only in their secluded valley. A couple shots of it were sure to get any massive, muscular Gamatom inebriated enough for a night of bad decisions. It might be worth it to see if Genn could be coaxed into playing those wrong sort of games he kept denying he wanted to play.
"I don't know," Rek said thoughtfully as Arly returned, serving himself another bowl from the pot and sat back at the table.
They finished off the pot, Arly sharing in Rek's company for just a bit longer before finally retiring to his own house next door. Once he was gone, Rekard took the empty, dirty pot and rinsed it with water, leaving it to soak overnight. Locking his front door and bolting it shut, another innovation courtesy of slaves, Rekard pulled a bottle of Fire Water from one of his shelves, hefting the bottle as he looked it over with a puckish grin. Holding it by the neck, he wandered into his bedroom, holding up the liquor in friendly offering as he stepped through the door.
Full night had fallen by then, blackness consuming the sky outside the windows, the light inside the room dimmed, even with the fire still going. Ambling over to the bed, Rek sat down upon beside his slave, not touching but close enough that they could feel the warmth of each other's presence without looking. Uncorking the bottle with a soft grunt, the rosy, brick colored liquid sloshing prettily against the inside of the bottle, Rek took a quick swig from it. A hiss left his teeth as he grimaced over the heated bite of the drink, warmth swimming in his head and chest as it flowed down his throat. Handing it to Genn in offering, Rek sniffed softly as he started up a murmured conversation.
"First day done. Now, I just gotta keep going, balancing everything so no one ever finds out. You're almost more trouble than your worth."
That made Rek laugh because so far, Genn wasn't worth anything. Other than a bit of dry humping and forced kissing, the warrior had been unwilling to give him anything in regards to what he wanted and there was no telling if he ever would. All the stress and trouble might end up being for naught unless he wanted to break Genn's spirit and just rape him every night. Rubbing fingers into his eyes, massaging them in a momentary flash of distress and tension, Rek released a heavy sigh and rested his cheek on his hand.
"I know. Not your game. And if that's the case, then I need you to forget about..."
Briefly, licking his lips, he met Genn's gaze, and waved a vague hand indicating all of the advances he'd made upon the man. Sniffing stoutly, he looked away before he continued.
"I figure, tomorrow, we can start training. At least that wasn't a lie. I
was impressed by you on the battlefield." Rek's gaze grew distant, a soft, wistful grin touching his lips as he remembered. "When I saw you...I wanted you... So fucking fierce...covered in grime, deadly and gorgeous. The feel of you...your power every time my sword struck yours... And no fear whatsoever. A shame you were fatigued when we found each other. When you've rested...I'm certain you will be fucking amazing fun to play with."
Even at that moment, Rek's heartbeat quickened, his Gamatom nature making him almost as excited for a fight with the warrior as he was about the prospect of sex with him. Shifting on his spot on the bed, adjusting the interested movement at his groin, Rek held his hand out for a return of the Fire Water, waiting for Genn to get his fill of it before passing it back.