“My daughter is an [i]uskyldig[/i],” Bran said, translating, “an innocent.”

The man's comment about his daughter didn't surprise him. King had picked up on that from his limited time with Annie. Was Bran right? Was his beautiful, flirtatious 17-year-old daughter truly as pure as the driven snow that had [i]once[/i] covered Greenland? Neither Bran nor King could know for certain. 

Bran talked about his daughter’s imminent coming-of-age, as well as the prearranged [i]breeding[/i]. King cringed at the thought of Paul lying between Annie’s thighs, pumping his cock in and out of her until he emptied his balls inside her. 

“[i]If[/i] my daughter will consent to lie with him,” Bran continued about his daughter consenting to being impregnated by Paul, “which was questionable [i]before[/i] your arrival … and is less likely with each passing day.”

King looked to Bran, surprised at the man's statement. King understood the man's meaning. He was unsure, however, of how he should feel about it. He felt a little guilt about screwing up Annie’s future, as it seemed to have been arranged for her. 

On the other hand, he had no regret in fantasizing that it would be [i]he[/i] who first parted Annie’s thighs, that it would be [i]he[/i] who first intruded upon her purity, that it would be [i]he[/i] whose hardened cock filled her with his seed, possibly putting a child inside her, possibly not; no matter. 

“I didn't mean to be a problem, Bran,” King told his boatmate. He contemplated his next words before speaking them, knowing that he didn't mean them. “If you ask, I will maintain my distance from Annie. All you have to do is ask.”