Ægir's Wife Ch. 05

Kirsty leaned her head into her palms. She was so tired that she was tempted to actually lay it on her desk for a brief nap. If she did though, she feared she might be late for her final appointment of the day. Of the week. It gave new meaning to TGIF. Even better, this was not the perfunctory Sunday brunch with her parents. Which meant she could relax, perhaps even sleep in.

This was not just physical exhaustion though. It seemed all she had done for the past four and a half months was work, care for Monika, eat and sleep. Hell, too many nights she fell asleep in the tiny bed next to her step-daughter. Bjorn would wake her when he retired for the night. She was so tired that their sex life had become a once a week thing...if she were lucky.

And Mikael? She lost the battle as tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. Once. Only once in almost five months that they had been back in London had she seen him. Then it was just for one night, he was gone before she even woke the next morning.

She was certain it was more of Sven's vengeance being pelted upon her. She chuckled sardonically as she looked around the almost vacant office. Ironic that she had actually needed her job back.

Her shoulders slumped under the weight of it. 'Temporary.' 'Just a few weeks until he cools off.' Mikael had promised her that day as he argued with Bjorn about the decision for them to return to her old life.

Bjorn had been as much against coming back here as she was, but Mikael insisted that it was for the best. That a few weeks without her was all it would take to make Sven see how foolish he was being. Bjorn had countered that the Holding was their home as much as it was his oldest brother's. He was not going to let the man run him off.

Kirsty remembered only sketches of the argument between the brothers as she spent most of it with her head buried in Petrine's shoulders as she cried her very soul out. In the end, Petrine and Olaf had sided with Mikael.

'Breathe,' she reminded herself at the stabbing pain that was as fresh as it was that day. Though Petrine insisted that it was for Kirsty's benefit, Kirsty found it hard not to feel rejected and betrayed by the woman that had been more of a mother to her than the one who had given birth to her.

She had failed...again. She had not been able to do the one thing that they all needed most...bring the disparate brothers together. And in the process she had lost not one, but two husbands, a mother and the only place that had ever felt like home to her.

"Are you all right, sweetie?" came the smooth Caribbean accent from over her shoulder.

Kirsty brushed the back of her hands across her eyes and forced a smile as she turned to greet Roz, her boss and perhaps the only true friend she had here. "I'm fine. Just updating a few records," she lied as she pointed to the laptop screen that was open mostly for show.

The woman shook her head and the tight curls bounced about her round face with its light coffee coloring. "You always were a crappy liar, suga," her smile was as forced as Kirsty's own.

If not for the woman's own problems, Kirsty would be tempted to confide in Roz. She had never hidden the fact that she lived an alternative lifestyle that included BDSM and polyamory. So it would seem natural, except that after over fifteen years of marriage, a bitter divorce was consuming her friend's every waking moment.

Although just how useful her friend's advice would be given that her husband had left her for 'their' sub. A young woman that was pregnant with the man's first child. After Roz had spent close to decade trying to conceive and so many rounds of IVF that she had lost count, not to mention a couple of miscarriages along that rocky road. No, explaining three 'husbands' to the woman was perhaps not the best idea right now.

"How are you doing?" Kirsty tried to divert attention away from her own situation.

Roz shook her head and smiled, "I's just fine, suga. Gots me the bestest solicitor that money can't buy. If that slimy, weaselly little fuck wants his precious son to be legitimate and heir to all dat money and title, it gonna cost him. Big time!"

The woman's smile and words might have been brave, but Kirsty saw through them. She remembered holding the woman's hand through more than one of those tense waits for the results of the latest IVF. She knew the hurt and betrayal that were lurking beneath the anger. And that was what worried her. What would happen when the anger dissipated and her friend was left with nothing but fifteen years of trying to please a man that she never could?

Kirsty sighed as she shook her head. Not that she knew anything about men that you could never please. That you could never reach. Never make them truly love you.

Roz lowered her voice to a whisper, "You get Mister Hunky or your carer to watch that little darlin' of ya'lls and we will go out for drinks. Cry in our beers. Then you can damned well tell me, why the fuck you ain't happy with a stud like that in your bed?"

Kirsty winced as her stomach turned at the mention of beer. She had never been one to drink the stuff, but lately she had been battling a stomach bug that she must have picked up from one of her clients or perhaps Monika brought home from school.

She nodded and smiled as she picked up a few things she had laid out earlier for this final session, "Speaking of which, I better get to my final session so I won't be late picking her up from school."

Roz paused, "I mean it, suga. I am here when you need to talk. Your friend. Not your supervisor." She winked, "And you still have not told me about Mister Deep and Sexy on the phone. Don't bother lying either, Bjorn's accent is barely noticeable. He sounds more American than anything, so I know it wasn't him."

"But I figure it won't take more than a couple of drinks to get the whole story of how one man is screaming down the phone at me that 'his wife' won't be needing the job and two days later you show up here with another one on your arm claiming to be your husband," she winked. "Oh, I just bet this one is gonna be good, darlin'."

***

Bjorn stared out the window, watching the people several stories below scurry about like ants. Not a single head up. Not a single smile among them. So many fucking people.

He ran his fingers through his long hair that was pulled back in a ponytail with the ends tucked inside the collar of his shirt. 'For propriety's sake,' his manager said. Truth was that his choice in hairstyle was just another thing that made him an outcast here.

But they needed him. His coding skills, though mostly self-taught, were superior to even those of men, who had been at this firm since the beginning. And his facility with languages? That was icing on the cake. Rich, red velvet icing at that. The two combined to both make him virtually indispensable and a highly paid team leader.

The only problem was the company he worked for. Designing applications that allowed people to legally gamble away huge amounts of money was not Bjorn's idea of 'gainful' employment.

But when Mikael had insisted he take Kirsty and even Monika back to England while he 'worked' on Sven, Bjorn was not about to leave the bread winning up to their wife...or take handouts from his brother. Sure, maybe he should have held out a bit longer, given his network of online hacker buddies a few more days to come up with something else.

Truth was...he would not have been happy with any of them. He was a fisherman. Born and bred. He might enjoy toying with computers, like figuring out pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, but it was the smell of the sea, the wind on his face, the roll of the waves beneath his feet that he longed for.

Problem was...he could not support a wife and child on what he could make as a mere crew member on someone else's boat. What's more, he would be gone for long periods of time. And neither Kirsty or Monika were adjusting well to London.

He sighed and his shoulders slumped, "Neither are you."

He toyed with the idea of messaging Mikael once more, but he knew that would only shift the heavy burden from his shoulders to his brother's. That was not fair. The man had lost more in this whole debacle than anyone. The wife he had just come to love was bad enough, but his decision to selflessly send his little girl with them so that she could continue to bond with Kirsty and make progress...well, Bjorn was not certain that he could be so self-sacrificing if their roles were reversed.

Problem was what was supposed to have been just a few weeks had turned into almost five months. With no end in sight. Not that that should surprise him. Sven was nothing if not stubborn.

He should have stood his ground. Even against his mother and uncle. They did not belong here. Any of them. The Holding was their home too.

It was too late though. They were stuck it seemed in a city of over eight million people. Eight million little piss ants coming and going to work and school without purpose other than it was what was expected of them. They had signed a year's lease on a tiny two-bedroom flat in Kirsty's old neighborhood. It cost a small fortune each month and Monika's room was barely larger than a closet. Hell, there was more room on Ægir's Captive than in their flat.

He hated his job...defrauding decent, working people for the benefit of a few wealthy schmucks, taking advantage of their weakness and playing upon unrealistic dreams of the 'big' win that never came. Even Kirsty did not seem to be enjoying the job that she once spoke so passionately about. And Monika? Was it his imagination or was his niece once more slipping deeper and deeper into her own little world?

And there was fuck all he could do about it. Trapped. Totally and completely trapped in the modern definition of success. A good job. A good neighborhood. A good school. And none of it made any of them happy.

Especially his wife.

He could almost hear his uncle as they sat at the airport in Oslo waiting for their plane to depart. He was giving Mikael as much time as he could to say his farewells to Kirsty and his daughter. Their mother had insisted on staying behind to see if she could talk some sense into her eldest son. So he and his uncle sat alone waiting for time to pass.

"Being everything she needs won't be easy," the man had said in a low voice as he stared at his son and granddaughter.

Bjorn sighed then wondering, not for the first time...was this all his fault? Had he somehow or the other wished this fate upon them? Had the gods in Asgard looked down upon them that night and seen the jealousy in his heart? Was this their punishment for him? It was the question he could not seem to shake.

If the punishment was just his, he could manage, but why did she and Monika have to suffer too? What had they ever done to deserve this exile? Exile? Yes, that was the word. He felt like he was in exile for his sins. Punished for his jealousy and arrogance.

To make matters worse, he was exiled from her even. Oh sure, they shared the same bed. He fell asleep next to her and woke up beside her every single morning. But not only was their sex life almost non-existent and play definitely a thing of the past, but even the communication, their long talks were a thing of the past. She was just too tired...from working and caring for Monika. She had even been losing weight and not in a good way either. She barely ate.

Of course, there was another explanation as well. Depression. Lower libido, lethargy, and lack of appetite. It all fit perfectly. So what are you going to do about it, buddy?

He had another conference call in five minutes. This one with a potential new client in China of all places.

But first, he would see to this issue. He began by pulling up his web browser. He had not been on that site in months. Not since they had captured her. What was the point of going on the BDSM social network when you had what you wanted?

It only took him a moment to find what he was looking for. He had been right. Maybe this was just what they needed. A lazy summer Sunday looking over kinky items for sale, perhaps even a bit of play at the after party? He frowned at the thought of putting her on display the way that he once had all those subs he had casually topped in the clubs. Maybe not.

He was not sure what made him do it but before he signed off he did a quick check of Sven's profile. Damn, the fucking bastard. He had friended over a dozen new subs and his history showed several comments on their pictures. So much for Mikael's theory about their brother just needing time to miss Kirsty. The man was replacing her. He was not sure where that left them. Any of them, but he would deal with that later.

For now, he had another text to send as he messaged the young student, who they had found to care for Monika on rare occasions, such as their monthly brunch with the snobbish and uptight bitch that Kirsty called her mother. Of course, her father tagged along too, but from the first moment they met Bjorn had known where Kirsty got her submissive nature from. Male subs though had never been among his favorite people and her father was no exception. Thankfully, it was a couple of more weeks before that torture routine.

He smiled as the carer responded quickly that of course she could make this Sunday. All the pieces seemed to be falling right into place. Maybe this was what they needed to shake them out of this.

And if not? Well, he still voted for teaching Sven a thing or two about manners. And he would not be caught unaware by another sucker punch next time. One thing was for certain...they could not keep on like this. None of them.

***

Mikael stared at the dark screen of the tablet through eyes clouded with tears. This was always the hardest part. Those moments right after Kirsty and Monika ended the video call were his darkest, when all the doubts assailed him.

Had he been wrong? It certainly seemed that way. Weeks had turned into months and not only had Sven not broken, the man had not even bent. Not the least little bit. Just the opposite in fact. The merry whistling from his brother's open cabin down the hall as the man got ready to go out for a night at the very club where he had first met Greta did nothing to assuage his mind.

The fact that he was dragging their young cousin, whom Sven had hired to replace Bjorn, also bothered him. Mikael was still uncomfortable with the young man, who had once happily participated in the heckling that had so upset Kirsty.

Although the kid was good at his job and kept mostly to himself, Mikael always felt a bit uneasy with the distant relation, more like second or third cousins how many times removed. The animosity between their families went back centuries and still burned brightly.

Still he knew they were lucky to have acquired Karl during one of those rare moments of in-fighting between brothers. Or perhaps not so rare...at least not in their family. He looked up as Sven's form filled the doorway.

"Join us."

Mikael fought back anger at the ease with which his brother issued the order as if his marriage was as easily discarded as Sven had. The role of peace maker increasingly ate at his sanity.

He shook his head and simply replied, "No thanks."

Sven studied him for a long moment as if he might say something more, but in the end he simply shrugged and sighed, "Come on then, Karl. Grab the floggers that I loaned you. Never can tell if you might get the chance to practice on something other than old pillows tonight."

He bit back a quick retort about the kid's lack of skill even on those pillows. If he had to take a guess, their 'cousin' would be more comfortable on the other end of those floggers, but he was not going to mention that to his older brother. The young man was getting an education he never would have back home that was for certain. It was up to Karl to decide what he wanted to do with that knowledge and the opportunities that came with it.

Mikael felt the needs of his own nature rising inside of him. But it was at least another two weeks before they would be back in England and he was certain that Sven would have another excuse for why they could not stay in port overnight. This time though he was determined...he would see his wife and little girl. If Ægir's Captive had to sail without him, he was going to London.

He would feel her soft skin beneath his tawse and knife. He would smell her intoxicating scent. He would hear her soft cries and deep moans as he inflicted the pain that they both craved. He would hold her soft body against his...all fucking night this time. And when the morning came? What then?

He honestly was not sure any more. His plan had not worked out for any of them. Least of all their wife. The dark circles beneath those blue eyes, the even starker paleness of her skin and the way that the pounds seemed to be dropping from her were all worrisome. It was this very type of pain that he had sought to save her from by sending them back to London. But even that had failed.

It was time for a new plan...he just was not sure what it was. Other than holding her in his arms again. Loving her and never again letting her go.

Martyr was not a role that suited him any better than peace maker was. His fists itched to connect with his brother's jaw again. To make him pay for these months of pain and loneliness.

But the only one he could really blame was himself. He was the one who had sent them away. His wife and daughter. That pain was so much worse than anything he had ever known, not even Greta's betrayal and abandonment came close to this depth of need. Yes, it was past time that they came home...and soon.

***

Sven looked across the darkened room as the young man chatted with a group of Dommes. While Karl held the floggers that had been Stig's birthday present to Bjorn, it was clear that the kid had no idea or even inclination what to do with the damned things. The way that the leather clad barracudas were encircling his cousin like he was fresh prey turned his stomach. But if that was the man's cup of tea, who was he to judge?

Cup of tea? Fuck, since when did a simple beverage have to remind him of her. He sighed as he reached down for his toy bag. Fifth club he had been to in as many weeks, but this plan was not working any better at erasing her from his mind than weeks of back breaking work had. Or hours spent chatting to subs online.

Oh, there were plenty of willing subs around. There always were. But his usual appetite for easy married woman had been abandoned from the beginning. The only married woman that he wanted was the one married to him. He had tired other newbies, but none had the same deadly combination of natural submissiveness and quick mind.

Who are you kidding, old man? She is the only woman you want. Hell, honestly, the only one you ever really have. All the others were just things to be used to relieve your bodily needs.

But you pushed her away. You blew it. Mister Cool Dom was anything but with the only sub that it had ever mattered with.

And there was not a damned thing he could do about it. He had blown it, not once, but twice. And even if he could by some miracle worm his way into her too kind heart...that was a possibility, there was no way that either of his brothers would let him anywhere near the woman they loved.

All that Mikael had sacrificed, the morose way the man sulked about the boat, it was a near constant indictment of him, his choices, his mistakes...and what they were costing them all.

Hell, even their mother was retreating back into the safety of that shell she had created after Bjorn's birth. Not even her wildflowers seemed to cheer her this year.

He sighed. He would have a word with Mikael when he got back. See if his brother would allow him to resume work on the cabin at the back of the Holding that he had begun in an attempt to please that conceited cunt of an ex-wife. If he finished it, well maybe, maybe Mikael could convince Bjorn to bring her back home.