VIKING: THE THRONE OF BEOWULF: The Killing Beast Was Released (Viking, Throne, Legend, Thriller, Beowulf, Murder, Gotland Saga) by Arwen Grim

“What did you seek me out for?” she leaned in close, pressed her blood red lips to his cheek, pulling on his beard. Hrothgar’s breath hitched in his chest; her feminine wiles were working their magic on him and he felt his gut stir in interest. But no – he was not here to lay with her. He was here to ask her what he dearly wished.
    He had no heir; he wanted his tale to continue on among his people.
    “I sought you ought, Milady,” he answered slowly, closing his eyes and fighting against his growing arousal. She pressed herself into him, wrapping smooth arms around his back and trapping him against her sinuous body. He shuddered, drawing in a deep breath before he continued.
    “I have no heir,” he muttered and she drew back, smirking brightly at him, tilting her head, her hands moving down to the front of her chemise to undo the laces holding the flimsy garment together.
    “Would you like me to give you an heir, then?” she purred softly, stroking her own skin through the sheer material of her gown. His eyes were drawn to the movement of her hands and he shook his head mutely, struggling with all his might to resist the temptation she offered.
    “No thank you, Milady,” he said stiffly. It was not that he wouldn’t bed a woman as beautiful as her; as a young warrior, he’d had his fair share of women who had vied for his attention – he was fierce, strong and the King. Who would refuse him? Even now, he had a harem full of willing woman, ready to satisfy his needs when he wanted it, not the least of which was Wealhtheow herself, a queen amongst womankind, both literally and figuratively.
    But he would not stoop so low as to lay with a hag. Even if she was as lovely as she looked right now.
    “Then what do you desire, Milord?” she kissed him then, square on the mouth, pressing her lips to his.
    For all that she was a tempting she-wench, she was truly a hag – her lips were rough, dirty and they smelled of the swamp, her skin no longer as soft as it had appeared but a moment ago.

The arousal vanished instantly and Hrothgar staggered back, pushing her away and spitting on the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
    “No,” he growled, “Not that, wench. Never that.”
    A flash of anger lit her face – it made her look like the ugly hag his sire had sworn she was, and she stepped away from him with a frown.
    “Then what can I do for you?” she hissed, “Tell me, Hrothgar of Daner, who once slayed a dragon! What can a lowly swamp hag do for you, if not give you the heir you do not possess? Are you worried that your kingdom will pass into the hands of a stranger? One whose own glory and strength will far surpass your own?”
    She laughed; it was a cold, cruel sound. Hrothgar winced, for it was his greatest fear – he had done everything and more for his people, and yet, because his seed had taken no root in any woman’s body, he would be forgotten, lost to the vanishing sands of time, his line perished for all eternity.
    That was what he was here to prevent.
    “I should run you through right now,” he muttered, pointing the tip of his sword against the curve of her pale throat. A single push and she would be dead, the blood dripping hot out of her body even as it coursed hot within her veins in front of him right now.
    “But I shall not,” he thrust his sword back into its scabbard and turned to her, lips pursed.
    “I am here to make a deal with you, hag,” he said, “I hear you are the one to make things happen.”
    A deal with the devil, his sire had said. The swamp hag would give you your heart’s desire, but it would be a deal with the devil that would take everything from you.
    It would not harm him, he was sure – he had nothing to give. He cared not for his throne; everything that was his belonged to the people of Daner. He was King, yes, but only to serve them. He had no material possessions of his own and the women in his harem were there of their own volition and did