A Viking's Vow Rae Monet (c) 2004
A Viking's Vow Rae Monet Published 2004 ISBN 1-59578-054-8 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2004, Rae Monet. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://lsbooks.com Email:
[email protected] Cover Art by Raven This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. Some say Vikings never made an oath of fealty to any one person. Others say a Viking’s vow, sworn by the blood of their life, was unbreakable. Which was it? Only the Gods know the answer.
Chapter One “If you struggle, the bindings will tighten.” Sable’s eyes slid open. She ceased all movement. She was sprawled on a dark fur pelt. She shifted her hips and the pelt caressed her naked body, a sensuous surprise she didn’t want to notice. Immediately she realized her arms were bound above her head, her legs tied to two sturdy stakes and her war paint had been washed off. The position made her vulnerable—a situation a Wolf Warrior never wanted to be in. Eyeing the man sitting in front of her, Sable sucked in a strained breath. It was the Norseman who had struck her in the woods. The man was huge, his muscled, veined arms folded over a wide chest. A metal armband in the shape of some sort of animal adorned his right bicep and a tattoo of the same design decorated his left. His sculpted legs were bent, his bare feet rested on the ground. He wore only a leather loincloth draped between his powerful thighs. Light brown hair streaked with platinum-blond highlights fell his to shoulders. His bright blue eyes watched her. As he leaned forward, a gold cross dangled from a chain on his neck down to his breastbone. If Sable didn’t know any better, she would assume she was dead and in the presence of an angel. She thought about her own tattoo, the one on her shoulder—two intertwined Celtic circles, the sign of the Solarians, with a sword uniting the circles. A Wolf adorned the middle of the lower circle. She wondered if he had noticed it. Women did not have marks like that outside the Realm. She didn’t want to reveal the Realm, or her people, to her enemy. He was applying a salve to a cut on his stomach. Apparently, he had also sustained injuries from their battle. He appeared calm and nonchalant, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His face was regal, a straight nose, and high forehead—perhaps from a royal line, she thought. He smiled at her, displaying a dimple in each cheek. If she wasn’t in such an undesirable place, in that moment she might have fallen in love with him. She tested the bindings around her ankles, tugging her arms down. Just as he had promised, the rope tightened. The man’s smile disappeared, and he frowned. Rotating her head from side to side, Sable did a quick assessment of her situation. She was tied naked in front of a barely clothed man, alone. They were in a tent of some sort, she guessed, in the middle of the Scottish woodlands. A fire pit in the center of the structure warmed the tent and her nakedness, the smoke wafting up a hole in the tent roof. Pelts of her dead fellow protectors were piled around her. I’m in trouble. A low whine alerted her. “Midnight?” An answering muffled ruff made her turn toward the noise. She growled and arched toward her wolf. Midnight was trussed to another steel post, muzzled and bound more tightly than her. Ropes were wrapped around her brave companion’s legs, torso, and nose. Sable’s anger elevated as she struggled to free herself and assist her wolf. The more
she fought the bindings, the tighter they became. The man arose from his bench, showing Sable his great height. Towering above her, he knelt at her side and reached for her wrist. “Release my wolf,” she demanded, jerking away from his hand. “I think not, my lady. That animal,” he nodded at Midnight, “would kill me first before rescuing you. And right now,” he shifted to her other hand, “I am the only person who can rescue you from harm.” His voice was strangely accented, a unique mixture of her native Gaelic tongue and another origin she couldn’t identify. To her dismay, Sable found the combination sexy. Her nipples peaked, and she grunted, closing her eyes. Why did this man have such an effect on her? She opened her eyes when she felt his hand wrap around her wrist. His hand was so large, his fingers overlapped on her wrist. With a twist, he released some of the pressure from the rope. “I will not harm you. Please follow my instructions. You are bound for your own protection. If I did not do this, the others would kill you. This is not my Clan. If I stray from their laws, your life will be forfeit. I am here at their mercy, with only three of my men.” His face hardened. “Two men now. The other was killed by your warriors.” Sable strove to understand what he was saying, trying to ignore the spiking sensations his hand produced when he loosened the binding on her other wrist. He bent over her body and ran his thumb lightly over her cheek where he had punched her, knocking her unconscious. The soreness made her wince. She was sure the skin had darkened and split from the blow. His eyes softened, and he stroked gently. “And if I release your wolf, he will be immediately murdered. The bounty on his pelt is high. High enough to feed these men’s people for a fortnight.” His hands left her face and reached for her ankles, where he began massaging the skin under the bindings. His palms and fingers were callused, as if he worked with them or fought often. A mercenary, mayhap? Yet his touch was gentle, almost reverent. Against her will, he stirred her. “Have no doubt, my lady, I will protect you. A Viking’s vow is pledged with his life.” Sable tilted her head and studied him. He seemed intent on what he was saying, leaning over her, watching his hands touch her skin with an expression on his face she couldn’t read. She hid her arousal with anger. “I need not your vow, Viking.” Then a series of loud shouts outside of the tent drew her captor’s attention. He turned his head, his brows furrowed. He looked like a fierce warrior focused on a fight to the death. “Who are you?” she asked. “Why am I here? May I clothe myself?” She bristled when he chuckled. The hand holding her ankle began to travel up her leg, the transition from fighter to lover flawless as he inched his fingers up her inner thigh. She tried not to be affected by his touch, but failed miserably. God, he is incredible. As his hand glided up her leg, he moved closer. She got a whiff of his scent, sweat mixed with horses and earth. It was a heady blend, very appealing. Sable shook her head, trying to clear her befuddled brain. He was barely clothed himself. She could see the smoothness of his skin stretched tight over his muscular frame. There were scars, but the marks didn’t detract from his appeal, instead they enhanced it.
He’s got me caught in some sort of spell. His fingers reached her core. At first he hesitated, but when she didn’t protest he slid closer and began to stroke her vagina. Gently circulating his fingers around her clit, he rotated his hand and slowly pressed a finger into her damp heat. At the same time, he lowered his handsome head to her breast. With his tongue, he circled her peaked nipple. Sable arched in pleasure. The sensations he created in her were beyond normal, almost as if he had swept a magic wand over her and commanded her body to mate with his. The craving was so strong, so hard to deny or fight; it was uncanny. The most primitive urgings to mate replaced Sable’s common sense. She closed her eyes and dropped her head back as he matched the actions of his mouth with his fingers. He glided in and out of her wetness, taking her higher than she had ever been. Her eyes rolled back, her neck arched. As she climbed closer to an orgasm, she creamed against his fingers. This arousal she was experiencing—it was almost as if she had a Wolf Warrior bond with him. Impossible. Bonds of that sort were only formed with other Wolf Warriors. That bond was a mating ritual older than time among her people—to ensure the future of the Realm. What the hell am I doing? She tried to interject some logic into her body, which seemed to have a mind of its own. She had never been so impassioned in her life. She could feel her wetness leaking onto his busy fingers. He switched to her other breast, sucking, licking. He drew her nipple into his mouth and worshipped it, while he withdrew his fingers and pinched her clit. Sable was mindless. She saw stars; the breath left her body and huffed out in a loud moan, her body bowed as she rode the orgasm. Her inner muscles convulsed, and she closed her eyes. Then it was over. She sagged back against the pelt, feeling boneless. He withdrew his fingers. Running his fingers up her abdomen, he linked his hand behind her head and brought her face to his. Sable opened her eyes. Her brown gaze met his bright blue one. He lifted his body over hers. Flipping up his loincloth, he positioned his body and hardened penis against her. He stroked her face with his thumb. If Sable had been a cat she would have purred, she was so aroused and satisfied. It had never been like this with a man before. She wanted nothing more than to curl around his cock. “Scream,” he commanded. He lightly nipped her lips then ran his mouth down her neck. Passing her pounding pulse, he settled to the tender place where her shoulder and neck met. Sable shook her head in confusion. Had he just loved her like no other and then asked her to scream? “For the love of Odin, woman, scream. I’ll explain later.” Just as he whispered the words against her shoulder, he opened his mouth and bit her. Hard. Struggling underneath him, Sable screamed. Her wolf thrashed and tried to howl. Before she could demand what was going on, three burly men threw open the tent flap and walked in. “Ah, Eirik, taming your slave, are you?” The men slammed their fists on each other’s backs and howled in laughter. The man they called Eirik surrounded her with his muscled arms and made eye contact with her.
The men couldn’t see his expression. His eyes beseeched her. She sucked in a breath to talk, and he gave a small negative shake of his head. She shut her mouth. Eirik leaned his body over her, effectively blocking the view of her nudity from the other men. Then a mask fell over his face, the same warrior expression she had seen earlier. In that second, she feared what he had become, her body tensing. After giving her one final look, he turned his head toward the men. “I consider this interruption unwelcome.” The manner in which he articulated the words, the strange accent, his silky sexy voice, made the words sound like a death threat from the king to his peasants. The men stopped laughing, their expressions serious. Eirik’s glare didn’t waver. “Fair enough,” the tallest man said. “We expect to take our due during the claiming ceremony. Gunthar will guard our spoils, outside the tent.” The smaller man’s hand crept toward the sword on this side, as if he didn’t agree. Eirik looked hard at him, the expression on his face ferocious. Sable watched the two men war with their stares. The smaller man’s eyes dropped first. Eirik won. Eirik nodded once and turned back toward her, but his gaze didn’t touch hers, instead falling to the side as if he was weighing whether his words had been taken seriously. Grumbling, the men filed out of the tent. He let out a long breath he had obviously been holding. Hauling off her, he grabbed a fur off the ground and draped it over her body. He tucked it around her limbs before easing down onto the wood stool. Placing his elbows on his knees, he ran a hand through his blond-streaked hair. He looked tired. Although she tried not to feel emotion toward him, Sable couldn’t help but soften. She remembered the battle. For a week she and the other Wolf Warriors fought these men to save the wolves. She recalled watching how Eirik battled. Fierce and untiring, he had been spectacular. He was a fighter to be feared and a man not to cross. She learned this the hard way. “I think now would be a good time to explain what a claiming ceremony is,” she said. Sable tried to breathe deeply, but her chest clenched in stress. The feeling that she was in trouble had not alleviated and was intensified by his actions. He inclined his head at her. “They call me Eirik the Fierce. I am an Icelandic clan leader. I came with this sister tribe to collect the bounty on the wolves. My people are starving.” He shrugged his shoulders as if his declaration was of no consequences. “What are you called?” “Sable.” “Ah,” he nodded. Reaching for something at his feet, he picked up a small wooden bowl. He set it down next to her. Lifting a strand of her long dark brown hair, he brought it to his lips and ran it through his fingers, like water. “I can see why you are called this. You are very beautiful.” The statement hung in the air. Surprise prickled through her mind. He had knocked her out during the fight between the Wolf Warriors and the Norseman. They had come hunting for the wolves, ending up in a war neither of them had expected. Many had died the day he had taken her. The situation didn’t sit well with her. The fact she had let this man touch her—and enjoyed it—shamed her. She sighed. “I am not your enemy.” He gently wiped a sticky substance over the sore spot on her cheek. As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “I struck you to save your life.”
He slipped down the fur and applied the salve to some of her other cuts, his touch gentle and erotic at once. Her breath sucked in and she told herself to think of him as a healer. Although she was not gravely injured, the small cuts, if unattended, could fester. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice huskier than normal. “What I am saying is you were destined to lose that fight.” He attended a particular nasty cut on her thigh but she hardly felt any pain, instead concentrating on the slide of his fingers. There was something so sensual about having this man bend over her and touch her. She began to spin back to a highly impassioned state. Her pulse skipped, her heart pounded, and she could smell her own arousal. His head snapped up. She guessed he felt her accelerated heartbeat. “Sable, you were surrounded by a dozen Norsemen, Viking descendents all of them, war trained and experienced. These men are killers, every single one.” Sable nodded. She knew she had been fated to die before he had struck her. In the half sleep she’d been in before she had awakened to find herself bound and naked, she’d assumed she was dead. “You should have left me to my fate.” He stopped applying salve and stared at her. Gently pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear, he caressed her cheek. His eyes burned with a blue flame. “I think not. You are my slave now.” She stiffened. “I am a Wolf Warrior of the highest order. Sentencing me to the life of a Norseman’s slave is a fate worse than death.” “I know not what this Wolf Warrior order is. What I do know is you are now my slave, and my slave you will remain. If you fight me, the men who surround me will claim you.” “First,” he said, returning to tending her wounds, “they will rape you. All of them.” He finished, setting the bowl next to her. “Then they will either kill you, making you suffer first—they will enjoy that—or they will sell you in the slave market.” “I am not afraid to die,” Sable said, watching for his reaction. “I am afraid for you.” He reached over and began untying the bindings that held up her arms. After massaging her hands and wrists, he rebound them in the front. Then he undid her feet, but not completely, leaving the rope wrapped around her ankles. He slid another fur blanket over them. Sable was confident he wasn’t going to harm her. For some reason, he had chosen to save her life. Why, she didn’t know. Taking her arms, he pulled them over his head so she was hugged next to his body. His skin was rough, yet smooth, lightly sprinkled with blond hair. His chest hairs tickled her breasts, making her nipples pearl. Sable swallowed a groan of dismay. Her traitorous body wanted this man. “If you try to escape in the night, I will know it.” Sighing, she settled against him. “You have been with a man before.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. There was no way he couldn’t have noticed her broken hymen when he was stroking her intimately. “Yes.” His arms tightened around her. “I will explain the claiming ceremony in the morn. I will prepare you, worry not.”
Sable nodded and resigned herself to sleep. She was exhausted. First, she needed to know one thing. “My wolf?” “She will be fine. Trust me. I vow I will keep you both safe.” For some reason, Sable believed him.
Chapter Two Sable dreamed. It was a particularly sensual fantasy. She was with her lover. He paid homage to her breasts, licking and sucking. She felt confused. She had coupled twice with another Wolf Warrior from the Realm when she had finally reached womanhood, mostly out of curiosity. It had been a disappointing experience. She had finally ended their affair, never feeling as if she could reach satisfaction with him. She now brought herself to orgasm on her own, deciding the sweaty sex she had experienced with Whyatt had not been worth the trouble. After she ended the affair, the awkwardness made it difficult for her to train with Whyatt. And that was not acceptable in the Realm. Never had Whyatt aroused her to such a state as she felt now. Slowly awakening, Sable arched and moaned in enjoyment. It wasn’t a dream, it was Eirik’s mouth. He was worshipping her breasts, moving between each peak as if they were a delicious treat to be savored. Sable sucked in a breath. “Eirik.” Laving one final lick, he made eye contact with her. The tip of his tongue slowly left her nipple. He smiled and Sable felt as if someone punched her in the gut. When he smiled, those loveable dimples appeared. He seemed so young, carefree, and … edible. She bit her lower lip. She needed to stop thinking about him in that way before she succumbed to his designs. He was her enemy, and she his slave. She needed to remember that. “Stop.” He continued to grin as he slid up her body. Positioning his cock at her vagina, he gently probed her. The fur fitted around them, creating a warm cocoon, ripe for seduction. She was wet and ready for him to take her. Then, she registered her discovery. God’s blood, he is completely naked. “Eirik, I can not. Stop this.” He ignored her protest and continued assaulting her senses. She could smell him, his scent, his arousal. He softly rubbed his face against the side of her cheek. The stubble of whiskers on his chin scuffed her tender skin, painful yet desperately arousing. He whispered in her ear, “So beautiful. Yield for me, Sable, take me into you. Let me have you, dýrr.” He licked her bottom lip, and settled into kissing her, taking her mouth as if it was a gift. He released her lips, only to run his tongue down the side of her neck, where he positioned his mouth and sucked. Sable exhaled. She throbbed all over with passion for this man. Her physical body wanted fulfillment—yet her mind begged her to protest. Her mind was losing the battle with her body. She wanted him to bury his cock deep inside her. Sable felt a strong bond with him. Everything about him touched her mind sense: his smooth, yet rough skin sliding against hers, the hair of his chest prickling her stomach, his blond mane curled behind his ear to give him uninhibited access to her neck, and his smell—Gods, his scent. She wanted, wanted to have him more than anything she had ever wanted in her life. “Take me in, dýrr, wrap your legs around me.”
She began to climb, her passion winning over her mindless protests. He was poised at her entrance, running his cock barely in and out of her, creating a hot desire that sent tingles up her spine. Not entering, yet not retreating, just probing, building a fire. She was on the edge of coming. “Ahhh. God’s blood,” she swore. He chuckled, and rimmed her ear with his tongue. “Take me. Say yes.” He exhaled the words against her ear. She arched into him as he drew his hardness away. She settled down when he pressed back in. He was teasing her. Showing her what it could be like if he slid all the way in. He seemed so in control. In the midst of her confusion, he was steady as a rock. Only a small drop of sweat dripping down his temple told her something different. Sable wondered why he didn’t just take her. Why he wanted her consent. It would be easier if he just raped her. He claimed she was his slave. Even in the Realm, Sable had learned the ways of the Vikings. Slaves taken in combat had no rights. Sable remained silent. His blue gaze met hers. He had positioned his arms on each side of her head. Slowly, inch-by-inch, he slid his large hand down the side of her body to cup her ass. Sable arched an eyebrow at him. The side of his mouth tweaked, the beginning of a smile appeared. He wrapped his fingers around her thigh and forced her leg over his ass. Sable didn’t protest. She let her leg stay anchored to his ass, curious to see where he was going. He trailed his fingers up her body, and Sable shivered in reaction. The light butterfly touch of his fingers on her skin burned, heating her from the inside out. After he slid his body back up her, he reached down with his other arm and slid up her other leg over him, his eyes never leaving hers. His gaze was doing strange things to her insides. It was an intimate, loving touch of his eyes to hers. He was worshipping her, the way a warrior would do with his life mate. “Take me. Say yes. Touch me, dýrr.” Sable shook her head, trying to deny him. He leaned forward and kissed her, not just a normal kiss but a wet mating of lips. His tongue moved in and out of her mouth in rhythm to his hips and the cock touching her vagina. His tongue entered her mouth, the taste of him, wine maybe or something else, she didn’t know what—but the taste of him sent her over the brink, teetering towards surrender. Sable reached up and circled her arm around him. He was so large; she grabbed his shoulders and hung on. His skin was wet now. She was on the edge of an incredible orgasm. Her body began to betray her, her hips rose to meet his small thrusts. She closed her eyes, savoring the burning feeling that came before the explosion. Her heart tripped faster. Her breath came in gasps. “Yes, that’s it, say yes. Come with me. Be mine. Sable, look at me!” She opened her eyes at his command. His control appeared to be at an end. He was gasping now, his skin gleaming with perspiration. He was wild-eyed, looking as if he was ready to explode. His expression of pure passion shut down her protests. He wants me as much as I want him. “Yes.” “Hold on,” he murmured, his smile gone. He rocked back, and the fur fell off as he ran his hands down to her ass to secure her, drawing her up and against him, as if he thought she would change her mind and he wanted to make sure she couldn’t move.
She held onto him as he had ordered while he swept her upward, her back lifting off the bedding. He thrust his cock into her full hilt, no foreplay, just one forceful push. Sable gasped. His cock was huge. It had been too long since the clumsy couplings of her youth, and she felt pain. Then he began to move and there was nothing but white-hot bliss. The man she thought was in control … considerate of her wishes—was gone. The lover that took his place was now taking what he wanted. Sable’s head fell back as his massive cock rode her. She had been on that edge too long. Now she toppled over, quickly but not quietly. An unbelievable burning heat traveled from where their bodies met to her head and exploded with mind-blowing gratification. She cried out. As her head lolled forward, he latched onto her lips with his. He made little growling noises, clearly as caught up in the moment as her. His breath was labored, panting out against her lips as he seized them and kissed her again and again. His tongue entered her mouth, plunging while he thrust in and out with his cock. She began climbing again. “Yes, come again for me, dýrr, again.” He eased her down onto her back, his lips leaving hers. His hands slid off of her ass to imprison her head, the transition flawless. With the added stability of the ground, his thrust went deeper, stronger. Of her own volition, Sable’s hips moved to match his rhythm. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes at the added penetration, unable to believe he could get any deeper. Yet he did. The friction was so good, so good. He thrust in and stopped. “Gods, you’re so tight.” She opened her eyes, irritated at the interruption. “How long, dýrr has it been since you have been with a man?” Sable huffed in annoyance. Did they need to discuss this right now? To distract him, she ran hands down his muscled back to grab his hard ass. He was so brawny, his muscles bulged, spasming under her caress. She kneaded his ass and rotated her hips, tightening the muscles of her vagina. “Did you not understand the word yes?” He groaned and kissed her, one of his moist, heated kisses. He could kiss like no other, she thought. Sable took his lips, seizing his offering, and began to move again with him. She was so close … so near… He continued his thrusts, his breath straining. She saw the tension in his face, as if he was holding back, waiting for her to join him. “Come with me,” he groaned as he strained against her. Sable tightened her legs around him. He held her head between his arms. The pressure of his large body against hers was so amazing, as if he was meant be there—between her legs—all her life. “Come with me. Ahhhh.” He released her lips. Sweat formed on his brow, dropping onto her neck. The smell of him, that masculine odor, sexy and spicy, was amazing, so different from her smell. He continued to thrust, his expression tortured as he obviously struggled to keep his restraint. “For the love of Frigg … Gods … come for me again. Now!” His last words sounded as if they were wrenched out of him. He groaned as his thrusts increased, coming faster and faster. His pleasure became her own.
Sable did as he demanded. She came like a flash of lightning, exultation blazing through her body, momentarily blinding her and robbing her of thought. Her breath catching, she sunk into him, crying out. Her groan matched his as he erupted. Pressing her down, he plunged into her body. His body jerked, his neck arched. Sable had never seen a more beautiful sight. He sucked back his breath as she did hers. His body sagged onto her, their sweat mixing. At one point Sable’s fingers had sunk into his beautiful hair. It was like silk in her hands. She released the handful, and it slid through her fingers. Spreading her hand, she laid it over his head and stroked the softness. She had never snuggled after sex. It didn’t seem necessary, but now she seemed to crave it. He rested on her and she felt his breath slow. The hard pounding of his heart became a steady rhythm against her chest. He raised his head and looked at her. “You are mine now.” He tightened his arms around her. Sable huffed out a breath, but she couldn’t stop her laughter tinged with bitterness. “Hardly. I will never be yours, Viking, as long as I am your slave. What I give, I give of my own free will.” He stiffened and let out a noise, half growl, half shout. His anger evident, he jerked his upper body up and away. “Do you doubt me? Do you need me to show you?” Sable tried to restrain her temper. He was still seated inside of her. His hair fell down his shoulders, covering his face, masking his emotions from her. “You are an arrogant ass, Viking, if you think forcing me to your will can bring you satisfaction.” Despite her anger, Sable couldn’t seem to help herself. Reaching up, she tucked his beautiful blond hair behind his ear so she could see his expression. When she finished, her fingers trailed down his cheek to his jaw, then settled on his neck, feeling his beating pulse. He had a small scar there, just at the base of his throat, likely a battle wound. It looked like a scar from a blade. She stroked the scar, her heart clenching. It was so close to the vein in his neck. He could have been killed. She ran her thumb over the scar, obsessed with the idea of his death, wondering why it upset her. What the hell am I doing? She snatched back her hand, chastising herself. Here she was, held prisoner by him, claimed as his slave, stroking him like he was really her lover. Suddenly his anger seemed to abate. His features softened, he lowered his body back down to hers. Flattening his arms, he reached down again and lifted her legs around his body. He hardened inside her, his cock straining against the walls of her vagina. Her heart began to pound in anticipation, her breath hitching. “Again,” he whispered against her lips before he claimed them with another mindblowing melding of lips and tongue. She sighed and succumbed as he began to move inside of her. He made her want things she shouldn’t want. Giving up, Sable buried her hands in his hair, with one final thought. Maybe bed is where we need to stay. Talking doesn’t seem to be our strong area.
Chapter Three Eirik had never been so taken with a woman in his life. He drew in a breath and blew it out slowly, savoring the release. Gods, what the hell had happened here? In less than four hours the other men would be arriving for the claiming ceremony and he was lounging in bed, loving a woman he had no business being with. When he awoke early that morn, Sable had been wrapped around him like a lover in a shelter of sensual warmth. Earlier, he had released her bindings. She hadn’t stirred although he left her hands free. That might have been his first mistake. Initially, he was merely going to wake her, tell her what to expect. Discuss the roles they needed to act out. He traced the mark on her shoulder, it was so intricate, incredible, the mark of a warrior. What had he gotten himself into? Then her floral scent permeated his senses, setting off a trigger in his body he could no longer deny. She stretched against him. The warmth of her skin touched him and his cock stood at attention, urging him to claim her. Her breath stirred against his ear as she snuggled next to his side. In her sleep-induced state her hand twitched and slid to gently massage his chest. She wasn’t aware of what she was doing, he could tell by the cute snore. But his dick was having no part of leaving her alone. The final slip of her leg against his snapped his restraint. The control he had worked on maintaining from the first moment he laid eyes on her dissolved. He had rolled over and began to celebrate her body. He couldn’t help himself. He wanted her, needed to claim her as his own. As far as he was concerned, she was his woman. He had to have her. He wanted her so bad he was in pain. These feelings had been with him, haunting him since they met. He remembered it well… That day, she had been fighting against the Norsemen. She had been glorious, red war paint adorning her face and arms, her sword moving as if connected to her body. She parried with her trained Viking opponent, her skill so sure it was unbelievable. She had fought far better than any woman had the right to fight. But he saw she was tired. She had been fighting for hours, and favored her hip, as if it was injured. The blood that flowed down her leg made him almost dizzy in his anger. He made a vow that day, to protect her. A vow he had no intention of ever breaking. And now she was holding him, cradling him against her heated body. They had just thoroughly loved twice and he would go again if he wasn’t concerned about her comfort. She had been so tight. He could tell she hadn’t had a man in a long time. When she told him she had been with a man, he assumed she had many lovers. A woman so beautiful should have plenty of experience. But that was not the case. And now she was his, and he was keeping her. He snuggled into her. Leaning on his arms, he dropped his head into her neck and breathed deep. She smelt like a combination of roses, sweat, and sex. His cock began to harden in response. She moaned. Gods, he needed to get a hold of himself. “I need to talk to you,” he said.
The sound of his voice seemed to kick her out of her agreeable mood. She stiffened in his arms and gave a small push. He sighed in regret and eased out and off of her. He couldn’t quite make himself release her. Tucking her into his side, he reached down and tugged the fur back over them. She peered past him to her wolf. “Midnight.” Relief laced her voice. Slipping his hair behind his ear, he turned toward his woman. Last night, before untying Sable, he had freed her wolf and placed her in a cage. He only left the muzzle, so she wouldn’t alert the other hunters. If they knew he had an affinity for the wolf, they would kill it in a minute. The same would be true for Sable. Taming her would be a challenge. “I untied her.” She sighed and tucked her head under his chin. Eirik rested an arm around her. If he could stay here, with her in his arms under him when needed, all would be well. “My thanks.” He trailed his finger down her arm. She shivered. “Cold?” She paused, then sighed. “Nay.” He knew how difficult it was for her to admit her attraction to him. When she had first told him to stop loving her, he considered her request until he saw the way her body had reacted to his. She wanted him. “We must talk. The claiming ceremony,” he said as stroked her skin, his hand sliding down her arm. Her skin was so soft, so beautiful; he had never felt anything like it. Just to touch her aroused him. “Continue.” He smiled at her command. This was not a woman used to taking orders, more familiar with giving them. She was a warrior, and that was one of the characteristics that had attracted him to her. An incredibly sexy warrior. “It is a Viking tradition, when a female slave is taken in battle she must be claimed in front of all the men, to prove his mastery. Claimed is not the word.” He paused and looked away. “Forced is a closer fit.” She raised her head, her stormy gaze battling with his blue stare. “Claimed by whom?” Reaching up, he stroked her hair. Her hair was incredible, a warm spicy deep brown, sinfully sexy. Her hair felt better than the softest mink pelt, smooth and velvety. He ran his fingers through it. The need to have her began sneaking up on him again. “You are claimed by the person who captured you.” His hand slid to the back of her head. He moved his fingers down to her neck and massaged the tight muscles. She moaned and tilted her head. Her hair fell to the side, caressing his arm. He pulled in a long breath, trying to calm himself. He had just taken her twice, and he wanted to take her again. Right then, right there. Eirik growled in frustration. She was turning him into a mindless, rutting beast. “I need you to fight me, dýrr. I want the men to see your defiance, then your surrender. This is the only way to keep them away from you.” She jerked back from his touch. He could sense her protest even before she made it. “I will not surrender.” She started to push away, but Eirik grabbed her arm, stopping her. Her eyes flashed. His heartbeat quickened. She was even more beautiful in anger.
“If you don’t, I will have no power over what will happen.” “So be it.” Her statement ignited his fury. He grabbed her and swung her underneath him. She struggled, which only incited his physical response. His cock hardened as he used his weight to pin her down. She groaned, her rage evident, but she didn’t have a chance against him. His Viking ancestors had gifted him with superior height and a muscular frame that dwarfed other men, let alone one small woman. Crying out, she struck him in the shoulder. Eirik grinned at her puny attempt to hurt him. She hadn’t hit him hard. He sensed her will to injure him did not match her desire. She was skilled enough to put up a good fight should she want to. “You are beautiful when you are angry, dýrr.” She grunted and tried to strike him again. He grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head. Her back arched, thrusting her bare breasts into him. He groaned. Having her naked body underneath him again had his cock running his brain. “Gods, you stir me, woman.” His statement was a curse. He didn’t want to be affected like this. With any other woman or any other situation, he would have followed the Viking code. Rape and pillage. Although most of the time the edict was nonsense, he was beginning to understand why his descendants earned their reputation. It was so much easier not to be emotionally attached to your slave. “You will do as I have instructed and not place yourself in peril, or I will…” He stopped and glanced toward her wolf. His jaw hardening, he continued, “I will release Midnight to the hunters.” She gasped. “You would not.” Her eyes searched his face. Drawing on the blood of his descendents, he cleared his expression. “I will.” She tried to arch underneath him, growling and struggling. He eased down more of his weight on her. “Do not hurt Midnight,” she pleaded Sensing Sable’s distress, her wolf rose in her pen and started to paw the wooden prison. Eirik turned toward the animal. “Stop. Now!” The wolf stopped and lay down in the pen. “How did you…” “I am gifted with wolves. They say it is in my Berserkers heritage. It is said my grandfather was a Berserker. Some say he was part wolf. I seem to be able to speak to the wolves.” She stopped struggling and stared at him, her eyes wide. “God’s Blood, surely you jest?” He laughed at her expression. “There are many tales about Vikings, their gods and their ghosts, dýrr. Do not doubt what I tell you.” “Why do you call me dýrr?” “Have I?” “You have.” It’s a term my mother always used. I forget sometimes. English is a second language to me, learned so I may travel and trade.” He didn’t tell her it meant my dearest and was only used as a term of endearment with close loved ones.
“Please do not hurt Midnight.” Her appeal hit him straight in the gut. But he had to be stern. For her own safety. “Hear me, Sable. Mind what I am saying and all will be well.” He couldn’t help himself; he leaned down and kissed her. She was so kissable with her full rosy lips, wet and cool. Just looking at them made him want to explore, to touch, to claim. Every time his lips touched hers, he felt overwhelmed with a need to plunge his tongue in her mouth and lap up all he could. Her lips were made to be loved. And he was the man who had the pleasure of capturing them. Eirik angled his head and deepened the kiss, his tongue coming out to mate with hers, to tease her and challenge her. She picked up the gauntlet and tangled her tongue with his. He felt her hands curl into her hair. He loved the feel of her, the taste. The tightening of her hands in his hair turned him on, taking him to another level of arousal. His body craved hers. There wasn’t a better sensation than this woman’s tongue in his mouth—except to have it coupled with his cock buried in her to her womb. He moaned. He was losing control again. He jerked away, his eyes running over her expression. Her hands loosened from his hair and stroked his neck. She had done it before, touched the scar on his neck. The look that flickered across her face was priceless. He sensed her emotions. She was ready to kill whoever had harmed him. She was getting as attached to him as he was to her. Eirik tried to remember how tight she had been, how she had cried out in pain when he had first entered her. He couldn’t love her again. It was too soon. He tried to slow his pounding pulse. Groaning, he lurched off her body. Staring down at her as she laying back on his pelt bedding, he almost jumped back on her. “We seem to have a connection, you and I.” He couldn’t believe he said that, revealing vulnerability he hadn’t wanted her to see. “Yes, we do,” she said without hesitation. Sitting, she pulled the fur around her. She dropped her chin in contemplation, then raised her eyes to look at him. “A dangerous connection. We are enemies, you and I. As long as you hold me as your captive, we will remain so.” Eirik was immediately angry. How could she say that? He hardened his heart. “You will do as I have instructed for the ceremony.” She tilted her head and glanced at her wolf. Sighing, she eased down onto her back, pulling the fur with her. She made a spectacular picture, the woman of his dreams, wrapped in fur and lying in his bed. “I will try.” He breathed a sigh of relief. That was the best he would get from her. He reached over to grab his clothing. Once dressed, he settled on the bench next to her and began polishing his long knife. The same knife stained with the blood of her people in battle. He felt even further regret now that he had gotten to know Sable. She turned toward him. “When?” He knew what she was asking. “At sunrise, no later than three or four hours. Go back to sleep. I will wake you when it is time.”
She closed her eyes, then popped them open. “Eirik?” “Yes, dýrr?” “Must we do this in front of them?” He sighed and dropped down on the blankets. As he stroked her head, she leaned into his hand. “I will do my best to shield you from them, but, yes. If we don’t, they will have legal claim to take you from me. It will be rough, dýrr. I can’t promise it any other way. Your life is at stake here. They have expectations we cannot stray from, or it could be my life as well. There are over twenty of them. I am vastly outnumbered. I have only two men left, simple farmers, not warriors.” She nodded and laid her head on the pelt, closing her eyes again. He rose and resumed his position. “Eirik?” He smiled, “Yes?” “I am not now, nor will I ever be, well-versed in surrender. Fighting I can do, surrender…” “I know. Get some sleep.” Eirik watched her until she closed her eyes and her chest rose and fell with a consistent cadence. The morning would bring the challenge of his life, to take his woman and in front of other men. The thought sickened him. He had to think of something.
Chapter Four When Sable next awoke, her wrists and ankles were bound again. A rumbling of noise came from outside the tent, as if a hundred men had gathered in festivity to drink the eve away. She heard laugher and shouting, followed by the clash of swords meeting. She didn’t bother trying the bindings this time. She glanced around and noticed Midnight was not in her pen. Crying out, Sable jerked her arms. Instead of giving, the ropes tightened. She sucked in a breath and tried to calm down. Suddenly, three huge men walked into the tent. They wore leather armor with animal pelts draped over their chests and tucked into wide leather belts. One had a round wooden shield, intricately decorated, attached to his belt. Long leather boots completed their dress. The men were armed as if they were going to battle, one with a broad sword, a larger man with an axe. Another leaned on a spear, a long knife tucked into his belt. Sable eyed that knife. If she could possibly get to it… “You come us—no trouble,” the man with the axe said in broken English. Sable arched her eyebrow and nodded toward her bound hands. “You release me?” she said slowly. The men looked at each other. After a long pause, the largest man stepped forward and pulled a short knife from his boot. He stood in front of her, twirling the knife between his fingers. Then he made a motion with his fingers, running them across his throat with a slicing gesture. “You fight, you die.” Sable nodded. He eyed her as if he didn’t trust her, but leaned down and quickly sliced each of the bindings. Wrapping the fur around her body, Sable glanced up at the man. He clamped his large hand on her arm and hauled her onto her feet. Sable winced and tried to jerk away. Growling, he snatched a handful of her hair and yanked her head back. He thrust the knife to her throat. “You fight, you die.” Sable’s warrior instinct kicked in. Dropping the fur, she reached up to grab the knife. Wrapping her fingers around the blade, she held it from her throat. This was an age-old warrior defense technique. Slicing the hand was better than the throat. Her palm burned as the knife cut through the skin, then she felt her blood dripping down her throat. The man whispered foreign words into her ear. Although she didn’t know the meaning, she recognized the hate. His rancid breath wafted over her, making her want to retch. Sable collapsed her leg at the same time she slapped the blade away from her throat, positioned her leg behind the man’s knee, and pushed. He yowled and went down. Sable used his surprise and off-balance position to wrench the knife from of his hands. She could feel the other men slide in behind her, heard a blade being drawn, but she didn’t care. If she were going to die, it would be fighting. Jamming her knee into her victim’s throat, she took the knife and positioned it between his legs, positioning the blade within a hair’s breath of his penis. He made gurgling noises. “Don’t ever threaten me, Viking, or you won’t be fathering any more children.” She pressed the blade further in his crotch. She stilled when the point of a sword touched her naked back.
“Release him.” Sable stopped. Staring down at the man on the ground, she weighed her options. “Eirik told me to tell you—remember vow.” Sable turned toward the man, her knee pressing farther into the man’s throat. “Are you his man?” she asked, he nodded. “Remember, Eirik tell you.” He held out his hand for the knife. His English was broken, but she got the message. She turned back around and stared at the man below her knee. His face was turning a lovely shade of purple, spit leaked from the side of his mouth. She sighed. Pulling up the knife, she twirled it around in her hand, spinning it through and around her fingers, then she settled it back into her palm. Finally, she twisted and handed it to the man. She lifted her knee and stood. Eirik’s man grabbed her arm. The other man sheathed his sword. Sable leaned down to pick up her fur to cover her naked body. As she straightened, a fist came flying at her face. Her cheek exploded with pain. She grunted, fell to the ground, rolled and came back up, ready to fight. The man was screaming in his native language. The other man held him, screaming back, trying to keep him from her. Eirik’s man grabbed the fur off the floor. Wrapping it around her, he led her out of the tent into a gathering of Viking warriors wilder than any wolves she’d known. Men were everywhere, laughing, drinking, wrestling in the dirt and fighting each other. In the midst of the chaos, a circle of men stood in the center of a grassy clearing. Some wore full armor with chain mail; others were barely clothed. Eirik’s man led Sable to the clearing. Before he let her loose, he shoved his hand into the fur. She felt the hilt of the knife she had used on his friend press into her palm. Her eyes met his. He looked toward the crowd. Her eyes followed his. In the center of the ring, Eirik stood. Sable’s breath caught. Besides his leather loincloth, a wolf pelt covered his body. The head of the wolf rested on top of his head, the body fell down his back and his buttocks, ending at his calves. A wide leather belt held the pelt in place. His hair fell wild around his face, down to his shoulders. He looked magnificent! Fierce and incredibly sexy. Despite the carousing men, her stinging cheek and the ordeal ahead of her, her body began to hum, heating from the inside out. Her heart pounded in her chest. Then the men in the circle began to scream and cheer. But when her gaze met Eirik’s, the voices seemed to fade. She tried to read his emotions, but his face didn’t give anything away. Looking stern, he shouted in a foreign language and pointed to the center of the ring. His man shoved her ahead of him and kept shoving until she was standing within ten feet of Eirik. At Eirik’s next command, the man walked away. Eirik shouted into the air, inciting the circle of men to yell back with a volume that made her cringe. They still yelled as he walked slowly toward her, one step at a time, until he stood so close all she could see was his large, wolf-clad body. He leaned toward her, his hands reaching for her shoulders. “Who struck you?” he whispered. She met his angry gaze. He looked ready to leave the ring and defend her honor.
“One of the men,” she said, her voice low. “Of course, that was after I placed a knife to his crotch after he tried to slice my throat.” She opened her hand. He glanced down and growled at the blood dripping slowly down her palm. “I will kill him. No harm was to come to you. I will kill him.” His vow softened her heart. “Let’s do this, Eirik.” He gaze met hers. “Are you ready?” She gave a slight nod. He stepped back and ripped the pelt off her body. The shock made her gasp. She bent her knees and raised the knife. He dropped his head back and yelled in Norse. Then he turned in a circle and howled. Her jaw dropped as all the men joined in. Glancing around, Sable took in the hardened circle of men watching them. She had never seen such a fierce group of seasoned fighters. Her Warrior impulse triggered. She raised her knife and dropped in a classic Wolf Warrior position to one knee. Eirik spun around until he was in front of her. He seemed stunned for a moment, then yelled to his man and held out his hand. A long knife came flying from the crowd. He caught it as casually as a piece of fruit, no fear in his expression. He faced her, weapon in hand. * Eirik shouldn’t have been surprised she chose to arm herself. He wasn’t concerned about disarming her. She was skilled, but not up to his level. Much to his annoyance, he became aroused instead. Watching her stand totally naked and vulnerable, yet proud and strong, he couldn’t have wanted her more. His cock stood at attention. He circled to her left, his knife displayed. She watched him but didn’t move. He was vaguely aware of the shouts of the surrounding men. He had tuned them out after he shouted his claim that Sable was his slave and no one else’s. “Come, Viking, take what you claim is your own,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. He smiled at her. “Oh, I will, slave.” “You will try, you mean.” “I will succeed.” He stalked closer, enjoying the chase until he noticed the blood dripping from her mouth, reminding him how serious the situation was. If he didn’t make a good show of this, she could end up with the man who had hit her. Continuing to circle, he assessed her weak side. He chose his position carefully. He had seen her fight. He knew she dropped her left when she was tired. He would use that fact and his superior skills to his advantage. She followed his movement, eyeing him with concentration. He wondered what she was thinking. Another woman would have made this easy for him, but not Sable. Why that thought pleased him, he didn’t know. Reaching the correct position, he lunged at her. She spun and met him. Her hand lashed up to strike him with her knife. He knocked her arm aside with ease. His forearm locked with hers as they battled for her knife. She moved quickly, her other fist making contact with his jaw as she punched him.
He jerked back, dropped low and spun. His leg coming out, he took her down to the ground. She tried to roll but he was on her, pinning her to the ground with his weight. He reached up. Locking his much larger hand on hers, he pressed his thumb into the joint below her thumb. She cried out as he finished the move with a twist, forcing her to drop the knife. He grabbed it and flung it and his own aside. It was over. Breathing heavily, he thanked the gods. His plan had fallen into place perfectly. Had she gotten into a lengthy battle, her adrenalin and instinct might have driven her to fight to the death. She made a lightning move and scooped up the knife. His heartbeat pounded. He realized if he didn’t move fast, she would be in grave danger. He tackled her and they crashed to the ground together. Squirming underneath him, she howled. The cry sent shivers down his spine. He steeled himself against the hurt and anger in her voice. He needed to be done, and be done quickly. Anchoring her hands above her head, he pinned her legs down with his, imprisoning her with his body so she couldn’t get up. He yelled out in Norse, his gaze running over the troop of men surrounding them. “She is mine. I claim her now. No other will touch or harm my slave or they will face my sword.” “Aye,” a voice yelled. Then a chorus came. “Aye, aye, aye.” Relieved, he turned back to Sable. She was wide-eyed, her pupils enlarged as if she was going into shock. Although she stared at him, he doubted she saw him. She seemed to be slipping away from him. “Sable, stay with me,” he murmured, his voice urgent. She shook her head and blinked, as if coming out of a sleep. She stared at him as if she saw him after a long absence. “Hold on, dýrr, I’ll be quick.” He shifted. Releasing her hand, he ripped his loincloth off, throwing it aside, then recaptured her arm before she could register it was free. Pressing his body on hers, he thrust into her. She moaned and bowed into him. Her hands tightened on his and she cried out, her eyes closing. For the benefit if the crowd, he arched his neck and howled again. He moved hard and fast. Her body began to move with his. Her legs wrapped around him and dug into his ass. Despite his mind’s distaste for what he was doing, his body reveled in mating with her like an animal in front of twenty men. It was an instinct older than time, claiming a woman sexually. Filling her now was so satisfying. So good. He tried not to let the pleasure roll through him, but he couldn’t help it. Leaning his head down, he let his hair shield her face from the men. “Sable, look at me.” Her eyes opened and she stared at him. He kissed her then as he pumped roughly in and out. He was about three pumps from spilling himself. The fight, the sight of her naked, claiming her in front of everyone, brought him to the peak of arousal. He wished he could bottle this feeling and release it every day of his life. Leaning down, he licked her bottom lip and whispered, “Are you all right, dýrr? Do you feel this … incredible?” Then she did something he never in a thousand lifetimes thought she would do. She smiled and winked. “Yes, I do.”
Eirik smiled back. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst. Her hips tilted into his as he thrust forward, in and out. He felt the muscles of her vagina squeeze his cock and she gave a small almost muted cry, as if she was trying to hold it back. Her pleasure heightened his. He was so close. He felt her squeezing his hands. Clenching hers back, he lost himself in her. His eyes closed. He gave two final thrusts, then arched up and howled as he came. The caveman yell heightened his orgasm. He had never spilled his seed with such force or passion. Sable stiffened beneath him and stifled a groan as she convulsed around his still-stiff cock. He leaned down and ravished her lips, swallowing her cry of fulfillment. She exhaled into his mouth. As he lifted his lips and nibbled hers, she smiled again. His lips quirked in mirth and he tried not to gloat. Raising his head, he yelled in Norse. Laughing and talking, the men dispersed. “What did you tell them?” Sable asked. Eirik released her hands, and she winced. He frowned. In his passion he had forgotten her palm was cut. “I told them the amusement was over,” he said has he pulled her up and scrutinized the cut on her hand. His expression darkened. “For the love of Odin, I swear to the gods I will kill the man who did this!” “Eirik.” She watched him cradle her hand to his chest. “May we please leave?” Eirik pressed his lips together. Reaching down, he lifted his beautiful naked woman into his arms and walked toward the tent. He leaned and picked up the fur without dropping her. “You did good, dýrr. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Glancing around, he saw two female slaves tending the cooking pots. He ordered them to bring hot water to his tent. “Where is Midnight?” He looked down at her. She was so beautiful and alluring, he wanted her again despite the performance they’d just given. “I released her with instructions to return to her home.” She dropped her head and let out a small cry. When she next raised her eyes, large tears formed in them and slid down her lovely face. “Thank you. You were never going to hurt her, were you?” He stepped through the entrance of his tent and glanced down at her. Those eyes, those tears… Unable to stop himself, he leaned over and licked a tear from her cheek. “I would never have hurt her, but others would have. She’s better off away from here.” “As I would be?” she asked. He slid his lips over hers and kissed her, his tongue entering her mouth and tangling with hers. He let her body slide to the ground. Cradling her naked body against his, he buried his hands in the silk of her hair and began tasting her again. Her arms raised and circled his shoulder. He lifted his mouth. “I cannot release you, Sable.” He lifted her back into his arms and took her to bed.
Chapter Five Sable stood still while Eirik laced the vest to her body. He had given up one of his warm leather shirts. The brush of his fingers over her sent a shiver down her spine. They had spent the last two days sensually wrapped around each other in every way she could imagine, yet she still couldn’t satisfy her need for him. He captured her body and now he was beginning to steal her heart. Along with their loving, they had talked, shared their life experiences, their memories. Bonded more than just sexually. His simple actions of assisting her dress made her want to reverse his progress and slide back into bed with him—on him. They had tried that position also, Sable riding Eirik for all she was worth. She trembled just thinking about it. He leaned down and picked up a fur jacket. Drawing it around her back, he slipped her arms into the sleeves. She had mapped every inch of his body, knew every scar, every sensitive area. He loved her to play with his nipples. She could send him soaring by sucking them with just the correct amount of force. “You will need this for the voyage. It will be cold.” Sable cringed. She had vehemently protested returning with him to Iceland. She didn’t want to be taken from Scotland, from her home, her people. He told her it was less than a two-night voyage and he was set on taking her. Nonsense about her being his slave, grumbles about his saving face with the other men. But every time she discussed it, he silenced her with his mouth, then stunned her quiet with his body. He had captured her, was holding her—keeping her safe he explained. Sable wondered why he was really holding her and was starting to think she was not the only one enslaved. “Please let me go.” She pleaded. He stepped into her space and crowded her against him. His arms slid around her and he placed a wet kiss on her jaw. She shivered in response, his smell, his hard body pushed against her, brought back all the memories of the past two passionate days. All he need do was barely touch her and he set her off. “I have explained, Sable. Why do you continue this?” She shrugged her shoulders. Yes, why do I continue this? Being with this man had been more satisfying than anything in her life. Why was she protesting? Something didn’t feel right. If she had the freedom to leave, maybe she would feel different. Although, he had not bound her again, she knew what would happen should she attempt to escape. The six warriors who guarded his tent all around would not let her get far. She wasn’t ready for that battle yet. She tried to quell her annoyance and enjoy him. He kissed up her jaw and claimed her lips. “Mummm.” “Gods, we must leave. The others await us. It’s a day’s walk to the boat.” He shifted away and set a belt around her hips to hold the fur. He buckled it lightly leaving a gap, so she wouldn’t get overheated walking to the boat. He had also dressed her in leather breeches, held up by a rope. She was bundled for warmth, for sure. He was also wrapped in fur from head to foot. His jacket gapped open allowing him some coolness until they
reached the coast. His bare chest lay underneath, sculptured muscles standing out. He moved with a striking grace for such a large man. Gads, he made her knees weak. He is so sexy. “You remember…” “Yes, walk behind you, keep my head down, and mind everything you say. I remember. I’ll be a good little slave.” She answered him. He sighed and shook his head. “You know…” She cut him off again, “I know, for my own good, keep me safe…” He actually rolled his eyes at her. “Sable.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “I am a Solarian Wolf Warrior, Eirik. Do you expect me to live the life of a slave with ease?” He ran his hand down her jaw to finger her pounding pulse. “Has your life as a slave been so bad? I have fed you, bathed you, kept you comfortable.” Sable’s face actually reddened when she thought back to her bath. He had bathed every curve of her body, intimately, dripping water down her abdomen to her center. After the bath, rather than towel her dry, he had licked the water off her skin, inch by sexy inch. Making her fly. “Ahhh, well.” She raised her hands up in a sigh of surrender. He laughed and hugged her. She surrendered and wrapped her arms him, burying her hands in his beautiful hair. She loved his hair. She ran her hands through the silky stands. “Come, let us go.” She nodded and followed him out the tent at least five feet behind, as instructed. It was so degrading. If she hadn’t been so taken with the dammed Viking she would have attempted to escape long ago, despite those huge men guarding the tent, she would have risked it. But that was the problem; she feared she had already lost her heart to him. His men had already exchanged their pelts for the King’s bounty. The reason the Norsemen had sailed to Scotland. The pelt of a dead wolf was worth more than a year’s harvest. He had explained the plight of his people. Ice was beginning to form in mammoth proportions around their beloved country, making it difficult for the longships to voyage. Without travel, the settlements were unable to trade. No trade meant starvation. Sable felt for his people, his family. But she couldn’t endorse the killing of the wolves, the Solarians’ companions since the beginning of her race. The Norsemen had made an agreement with the Solarian leader in exchange for their lives. They agreed to leave Scotland. This meant Eirik was going home. After they gathered what wares they could, they were returning to their homeland. And she was going with them, much to her dismay. They walked throughout the day, through the purple fields of heather to the coastline outside of Inverness. To where the Norsemen had left their longship to shore. Sable stopped upon the rise of the cliff that overlooked the shallow cove where the boat was beached. She glanced down at the shoreline. To her amazement a sizeable longship rested there, as if it had never been left. It looked serene, almost as if lonely for the touch of the open water. The ship was incredible, a sturdy large mast stood tall in the
middle of the ship, not even swaying in the wind. It looked to be about fifty feet long, maybe ten wide. The sides of the ship were low with benches lining the inside. The men trudged down the hill carrying whatever cargo they had been assigned. Every man was weighted down with a bounty. They began to load the cargo onto the ship. When she didn’t move down the hill, Eirik approached her. “It is incredible, isn’t it? It’s an Icelandic Knorr. Made for cargo, mainly.” She tore her gaze from the ship to answer his question. “Yes, it is. This ship will take us across the sea? It seems so shallow.” He laughed and pointed toward the ship. “Yes, this ship will take us across the sea and much more. It is designed this way so we might access the shallow harbors, and allow our small group of twenty men to haul her to shore.” “My father helped build this ship. She’s a workhorse, she is,” he revealed. There was a certain pride in his voice. “Come.” He wrapped her hand in his, then helped her pick her way down the trail to the beach. When she reached the bottom a tortured howl caught her attention. At the top of the cliff was Midnight, howling her protest at Sable’s departure. She stopped and looked at her wolf, the one that had been with her since the age of six. They had never been separated. Knowing how dangerous it was for her to be there, Sable spoke to Midnight with her mind sense. Every warrior and their wolves were connected with their minds. Go home, Midnight. I will be fine. She pawed the dirt and howled again. Sable squared her shoulders. Mind me, go! With that final order her wolf barked, Sable knew it was a canine’s equivalent to a yell, then pivoted and left. Sable gave a sigh of relief. Once at the ship, Eirik handed her up to the man who had given her the knife. He led her to the back of the boat, where he pointed. Sable sunk down into the bottom of the craft. Eirik began a shouting cadence and all the men fell alongside the boat and literally lifted it into the water. At that precise moment it hit the water, they simultaneously hauled themselves into the boat. It was an intricate dance, which they had obviously mastered. Hooking their shields along the side of the boat to form a protection covering to those inside, several of them sunk down around the cargo to oar the ship into the water. Sable tugged the fur around her body and settled into the boat. She had two days with these men. Best to keep herself as small as possible. As soon as they were outside the cove, the men loosed the ropes and let he sail furl open. They maneuvered the boat into the wind to let the sail catch, which it quickly did. They began gliding toward their destination. I hope we get through this safe. Despite the fact these sailors appeared experienced, Sable was still apprehensive about the trip. And then there was the fact she was traveling as another man’s slave. This also caused her concern. She frowned as she burrowed into her blankets. Eventually the smooth glide of the boat lulled her into a light doze. The feel of Eirik’s arms sliding into her coat startled her awake. He slipped in tighter and reached up to drag a fur throw around the both of them. The temperature had definitely decreased. Sable welcomed Eirik’s warmth.
“Are you warm enough?” She smiled and snuggled into him, still sleepy from dozing. Sable realized he had loosened the belt on his jacket. She drew her hands along the edge and placed them on the warmth of his bare chest. Muscles contracted under her fingers. “Do you not have to row?” He chuckled at her sleepy question. “Nay, it is my rest time for the next three hours.” Sable glanced around the boat. Seven of the men were oaring, while the remaining were wrapped in furs, much like Eirik and herself. Most were sleeping. Cargo surrounded them, giving them some semblance of privacy. The sun was beginning to sink underneath the horizon. The sight was spectacular, yellow filtered into red, when then melted into black. “It’s beautiful.” “Ah yes, there is nothing more beautiful than a sunset in the open waters, well that is … except you, dýrr.” Sable turned her gaze towards his. He had that look, the darkening of his eyes, the hitch of his breath; his heart was pounding against her hand. “Do not think to charm me right now, Viking.” His masculine laugh reverberated through her body. If it was possible he slid in closer, then he reached down and grabbed her ass, roughly pulling her against him, he draped her legs over his. He brought her vagina in direct contact to his bulging cock. His laces were undone, the heat of his penis pressed intimately against her. To her surprise, her breeches were also unlaced, the rope holding her pants gone. He made a quick move and her breeches dropped off her hips, gaping open. “God’s Blood, Eirik!” He smiled at her. Gads, that dimpled smile turned her heart to mush every time. “Your men…” “My men can not see us. However, we are vastly more covered now than when my men previously saw us.” She chuckled at his point. “True.” She stifled a moan when he probed her with his hard penis. Moving in and out, he was teasing her. He liked to arouse her that way, connected to her in the most intimate way. Her juices flowed onto him. Heat warmed her. It didn’t matter how cold it was around them—she was burning, she groaned. She sucked in a breath when he kissed her to silence her. One of his wet, long, passionate kisses, that always sent her soaring. “Ah, dýrr, I want you. Want to bury myself in you and never come out.” When he talked like that, told her how much he wanted her, she couldn’t think—only feel. Her hips began to rotate against him. He slid his hands into her pants and cupped her bare ass. Dropping her pants, he had full access to her. “Do you want me, Sable?” he asked as he slid into her one millimeter at a time. She couldn’t think, couldn’t even answer him—that was, until he stopped. She gasped and let her head fall back to savor her enjoyment. “I want you, Eirik. Gods I want you.” She dropped her head into the curve of his neck, licking him. She felt him shiver. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her hips. She had never met a man who loved with such emotion. She was addicted to him.
“Take me,” she whispered into his ear, as she positioned herself on his hardness and sunk down, at the same time he thrust up. “Ahhh.” She tried to muffle her pleasure, but her moan was forced out of her. “Enjoy me, dýrr. Take me.” Sable leaned forward and latched her lips on his, her tongue thrusting into his mouth. He groaned and tightened his hands on her ass and squeezed to the point of pain, yet not quite. She rode him, hard. Sliding up, anchored on his shoulders she used his tower of muscles to help her move. He growled and returned her kiss with fervor, his breath panting against her mouth between kisses. She knew he was aroused to the point of extreme pleasure. She could feel his response to their lovemaking, the sweat forming on his chest, and his heart was pounding against her hand. She released his lips and sucked on his neck where his pulse was throbbing. He groaned and leaned his head to the side to give her better access. Sable was beside herself; she loved it when he lost his control and the fact she could bring about that reaction in him. She nuzzled his jaw and moved up to his ear. She was so close to coming, so close. Moving faster she licked his ear, then slowly she nipped him. At the same time she could feel her orgasm taking over her body. She groaned and let herself fly, pushing her face into his neck, she moaned. He jerked against her as he also came, panting and groaning against her throat, he clenched his hands on her ass. She smiled against his ear. Obviously she had hit another of his erotic zones. The ear, who would have thought? He slid his hands from her ass to her back, hugging her into the warmth of his spent body. “Who just loved whom, dýrr?” he asked into her hair. She smiled. “Yes, who?” He assisted her righting her clothing then wrapped her into his arms. “Sleep. I know you have to row in a few hours. I’ll give you time to rest.” She smiled, when he grunted and pulled her into his body as he closed his eyes. He had a smile on his face when he drifted to sleep. So did she.
Chapter Six Sable wrapped the extra fur closer to her body, and slipped the hood over her head. Her breath huffed out in a white mist. On their second day of travel, the temperature had dropped to a staggering low. A low fog had rolled in, making it difficult to see beyond the edge of the ship. Their progress was slow, yet steady. Most of the men were trying to work at a steady pace to keep warm. Eirik was oaring the vessel. His man, who finally introduced himself as Bjorn, stood next to her. “Bjorn, how can they know where to go?” He grinned and tapped his heart. Although he didn’t speak English well, his hand gestures amused her. “They know. Here.” He touched his chest. She smiled. Someone shouted, and she turned. “What is it?” she asked, not seeing anything but fog. Bjorn squinted. “Glacier,” he said. Glacier? What is he talking about? We are in the middle of the ocean. Then she saw it. It was enormous, standing taller than her eyes could touch. It appeared like an island of white ice. Sable felt stunned and slightly awed. A mammoth piece of ice broke off and crashed into the ocean, not ten feet from their ship, kicking up an enormous ripple. The ship swayed, and Eirik began shouting instructions. Men scrambled about the ship to oar a path clear of the ice. “Gods, I have never seen the like.” She twisted, her eyes following the massive hunk of ice. Bjorn clapped his hands together. “We hit, we die.” She shuddered. Men positioned themselves on each end of the ship with long steel rods. “What are they doing?” He made a thrusting motion with his hands. “We hit. They push. We no die.” Sable doubted pushing a glacier with those rods would do any good. Maybe it made them feel like they were doing something to avoid disaster. Eirik, who seemed to be elected leader, continued to shout instructions. The rowers slid the ship by the glacier, missing it by inches. Twice more during the day, the men rowed furiously to avoid glaciers, while Sable watched and shivered. Worse than the fear of hitting one of the islands of ice and sinking was the cold. She had never felt this kind of cold before. Scottish winters were wet and it frequently snowed in the mountains, but never to this extreme. Made sense, considering their destination was Iceland. But Sable had heard the stories: Greenland had ice; Iceland had green. So where was the ice coming from? “Is it always like this?” Bjorn nodded. “For last 20 years, ocean freeze three times. And Vikings no sail. If Vikings no sail, Vikings no trade. People in villages starve.” So that’s why Eirik’s people were starving. Bjorn continued, “And in home, not only ice—big mountain blow.”
Big mountain blow? Sable cocked her head and watched him make motions with his hand. First he drew an outline of a mountain with his fingers, then taking his hands, he exploded them into the air. He ended the charade with a gust of whooshing noises. “Blow.” Then it dawned on Sable. He was talking about a volcano. Realm travelers had brought stories of such events, but she had never witnessed one. Gods, what these people must be going through. Eirik approached, and Bjorn left to take Eirik’s place at the oar. “We are close, nearly there.” Eirik dropped his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her. “It is unbelievably cold here.” Eirik glanced around them. “In the last twenty years, it has gotten colder and colder with each turn of the season.” “Bjorn told me about your plight. Why don’t you move? Take your people to another place?” “Many have. Thousands of people originally settled in Iceland. Now our numbers have dwindled.” He shook his head. “Some believe this will pass, that the gods are testing our people. They stay because they are stubborn. My father is one of these men.” His gloved hand clenched on her shoulder. “I can’t leave my family.” Sable covered his hand with her own. “I understand.” Thinking about her Wolf Warrior clan, her heart tightened, as if someone clamped a hand around it. “Thank you … for not questioning my loyalty.” She arched a brow. “Your judgment about slaves I question, but your loyalty—I do not.” He chuckled. Someone shouted. They both turned to look. Out of the fog towered the coast of a magnificent island. Iceland. Proud in its beauty. A sea of green with huge brown patches covering the land. Two mountains peaked the hills; one was smoldering, smoke waving out of its top. As if stationed to welcome them, Viking longboats littered the coastline. The ice floes that had followed them from Scotland drifted lazily around the ship. They maneuvered around the large masses of ice and skimmed right up to the beach. The men hopped out and hauled the ship onto the rocky sand. Eirik helped Sable out and handed her to Bjorn. Eirik turned back and took charge again. With the cadence of his voice, the men worked as one to carry the ship onto land. Sable took in the view around her. This is a harsh land, she thought. And I am now beached like these abandoned Viking ships. She bit her lip and her fists clenched. Escape would be impossible now. Eirik walked over and stood by her side. The man who had hit her in Scotland was glaring at her again, giving her a silent message that he wasn’t done with her. Sable narrowed her eyes and stared back at him. He chanted some Norse words. Eirik stiffened and snapped back, his voice sharp and his eyes glowering. Scowling, the man turned and left. “Who is that man?”
“That is Axe. Best to stay clear of him. He has not developed a liking for you. He belongs at a different settlement than my own. He used to raid my village.” “Why?” Eirik shrugged. “Because that is what Vikings do. We are so desperate for supplies now, taking what others have is a matter of life and death.” He began storing their gear, tying what he would carry to his back. Another man approached. Sable looked up, she recognized him from Scotland. Another Viking God. This man was as large as Eirik, with blond hair and striking blue eyes. “This is Leif. He is my other man.” Sable nodded to him. “Greetings.” He nodded back and greeted her in his native language. “You and I will travel to my village,” Eirik said to Sable. “We will recruit men to haul our supplies and ship. Leif and Bjorn will stay and guard what is ours until we can return.” Sable was amazed they needed to guard their supplies. In the Realm all was shared. Rivalry for simple food stock was unfamiliar to her. She frowned, saddened by their situation. “You ready?” Sable picked up a pack of supplies, and they began their trek. “So with just you and me,” she said, “does this mean I don’t have to walk in your wake?” He laughed, his face lit with those adorable dimples. Reaching up, he caressed her cheek, then leaned forward and followed his touch with his mouth. Sable sighed and basked in his touch. How could this man who claimed her as a slave make her feel so treasured? “Yes, walk beside me, dýrr.” She smiled back. “Then by all means, let’s go.”
Chapter Seven Standing on the ridge overlooking the encampment, Sable watched the daily life of the Viking settlement. She estimated one hundred people lived here. She had expected much more. There were multiple wooden structures plus livestock enclosures, horses corralled in one, cattle in another. Larger outbuildings dotted the settlement. A small river careened next to the settlement. The activity was familiar: men tending cattle, children playing, women at the river gathering water. If it hadn’t been for the thick fur jackets and hats everyone wore, she might have thought she was back in the Solarian Realm. “Your village is small.” “At one time this settlement was over 1000 strong. Now…” Sable shuddered. “What happened?” Eirik was digging through his pack. He drew out a rope. She tensed. “Famine, disease.” He nodded toward the mountain. “The volcano.” He pointed toward the sea. “The ice. We are a dying people.” “I don’t understand. Why you don’t leave?” He shrugged. “Would it be so easy for you to leave your home?” Sable put her hand over her left breast. Her heart ached for her land, her people, and her wolf. When King Edward the First had tried to kill all the Solarians, they had been forced to relocate. The move had saved the lives of many children. Families thrived today because of their leader’s decision. Now they lived in a secret location in the Scottish Highlands. She couldn’t imagine leaving there, or what would have happened if they had not left. “It would be near impossible to leave our home.” “Then you understand. Now give me your hands.” “But had our leader not relocated us, many would have died. And because we left we found a better place. Sometimes you have to take chances.” Ignoring her last remarks, he unwrapped the rope, letting it fall in front of him. Sable kept her hands hanging on her sides. When he reached for her, she danced back. “Sable.” His voice was harsh with warning. “If you are going to enter my village, it must be as my slave. The rules have not changed.” Sable growled. He sighed. She bent her knees. His eyes narrowed. “You want to bind me … then come and get me.” He gave her a wolfish grin and acknowledged the challenge with a nod. Sable brought her fists up, prepared to fight. They circled around each other, and Eirik smiled. Sable’s anger coupled with another annoying emotion—desire, slowed her reactions. Eirik was so incredibly handsome. Circling around her, he twirled the rope. She tried to shut off her emotions and let her instinct take her, but tussling with him aroused her passions. Instead of socking him in the nose, she wanted to tackle him, take him down to the ground, and—
Yelling, he swooped on her. Moving lighting fast, he twirled the rope and wrapped it around her legs. He tugged. She went down with an “ughhh,” and he fell on top of her. It feels wonderful. Too wonderful. Good God, I am a worthless warrior around him. “You were saying?” He drew her to her feet. Although she struggled, he bound her hands in front of her body. He tied another rope to the original as a lead. Sable cursed. Now that she was unable, she truly wanted to sock him. Eirik tilted her chin up with his finger, and she jerked her face away. “You are beautiful, especially when you are angry.” Turning, he pulled on the rope, leading her to his family. Sable tried to dig her feet in, but it was no use. She was jerked after him, stumbling and almost falling. Catching her balance, she decided she wouldn’t be dragged into his camp. She was a warrior and would face her fate with pride. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin and stepped as if she were walking next to her wolf. The people stopped what they were doing to watch their leader coming down the hill. A cheer went up and reverberated through the village. Raising his arm, Eirik answered the shouts with a yell of his own. The villagers approached him and he made his way to the center of the gathering. Men clapped him on the shoulder, while the women kissed his cheeks. A small girl came running through the crowd yelling his name. “Eirik.” He smiled and opened his arms, then scooped the little girl into them. Sable was furious. How dare he flaunt his bastard in front of her? She tugged on the rope. Eirik turned towards her. “Sable, this is my sister, Ericka.” Relief swept through Sable. “Pleased to meet you, Ericka.” She tried to raise a hand but ended up lifting her bound wrists. “Hello.” Ericka’s accented English was adorable. She pivoted in Eirik’s arms and asked something in a foreign language. “Speak in English, please, darling.” “Why do you bind her, brother?” Her quizzical face was almost comical. “She is my slave, sweetling.” “Slave?” Her head jerked back to Sable. “But Eir…” Eirik stopped her before she could continue, lowering her to the ground. “Go get Mother.” “But…” He tweaked her nose and shook his head, then swatted her on the butt. “Go.” She made a face and flounced off. Eirik picked up Sable’s bound hands. She tried to jerk away, but his stern look stopped her. He raised her hands above her head. “This woman is my slave, Sable, claimed from the spoils of a battle in Scotland. No one will dispute my claim or assist her in escape! If they do … they will face my wrath. Is this understood?” The group yelled their agreement. Sable signed. He had just made it near impossible for her to get away. Although she wasn’t even sure where she would go in this harsh land. Just great.
An attractive older woman approached, her hair pale blonde, lines on her face etched by laughter. “Dýrr.” “Mother.” Eirik hugged her. “Mother, this is Sable, my slave.” The strange look on his face made Sable frown. “Your sla…” “Yes, Mother, my slave.” He gave her a negative shake of his head. She spoke rapidly in a language Sable couldn’t understand. One word tumbled after another, almost as if scolding him. “English, please,” he said. His mother shook her head and turned toward Sable. “I am Anika. I am pleased to welcome you to our settlement.” She glared at Eirik. “Despite your status.” Sable nodded. “Thank you.” “Come.” Anika pointed at Sable’s wrists. “If you promise to behave, I will take you to bathe and eat.” Sable glanced at Eirik and raised her eyebrow. He raised his back. “Yes, Sable, can you promise?” She turned back to Anika, whose serene expression reminded Sable of the Goddess of Peace. Sable really wanted a bath and food. Also, she hated to hurt this woman’s feelings. Anika gazed at her with kindness and understanding, as if she saw into Sable’s heart. “I promise.” Anika put her hands on her hips. “Eirik, release her.” Like a small boy obeying his mother’s order, Eirik drew a long knife from his belt. He stepped past his mother, and Sable grew taut. He slowly sliced the rope at her wrists, then flipped the knife back into his belt. Instead of allowing her to move, he imprisoned her wrists with his hands. “Behave.” Sable’s jaw tensed. Another order. She knew what she wanted to do with his orders. He leaned close and lowered his voice. “Please, Sable, this is my family.” His ‘please’ made her waver. She looked up into his pleading eyes, and her wavering changed to melted knees. She nodded once. “Very well.” Anika wrapped her arm around her and led her to a small wooden structure. “I will take you to Eirik’s jarlshouse rather than one of the longhouses. There will be more privacy for you there.” She shouted a few orders as they approached the house. “I have asked them to bring water and food,” she said. Inside Eirik’s house, the warmth and homey feeling surprised Sable. A fire burned in the center; smoke trailing through a hole in the roof. A large bed sat to one side, piled with fur pelts. Eirik’s personal items littered the room. A small carved wooden boat sat on a beautiful dresser. A small bathing tub sat in the corner, reminding her of her first bath by Eirik’s hands. She shivered, her nipples straining. Anika led her to a wooden table with benches. “They will be here shortly. Tell me how you met my son.”
“Ahh, well.” Sable wasn’t sure what to say. I tried to kill him and his men in battle and lost. You son knocked me out then claimed me as his slave. Anika patted her on the hand. “Do not worry, Eirik is a good man.” A knock sounded at the door. Anika arose and ushered in several women. They carried food, clothing, and one had a pail of steaming hot water. The woman drug out the small lap tub and poured the water into it. “You must be tired,” Anika said. “I will leave you now. Please make yourself at home.” Sable glanced at the food on the table. “I know food is sparse here. Please take some back if needed for the others.” Anika ran her hand along Sable’s cheek and jaw, her expression filled with tenderness. “Share with Eirik, if you will.” Sable nodded, biting her lip. “Please. Bathe, then rest.” “I will. Thank you for everything,” she said with heartfelt sincerity. Anika treated her more like an honored guest instead of a slave. Anika squeezed Sable’s hand. “You are very beautiful. I can see why my son is taken with you.” “Oh, no…” Anika gave a disbelieving smile and turned to leave. “Anika.” She turned. “Yes, Sable.” “What does the word dýrr mean?” Anika gave her a strange look, then she waved her hand as if trying to translate. “Dýrr, it means, how do you say—most highest loved one. That is the best way I can use to explain it. Used by mothers for their sons, and a man towards his wife.” Her explanation stunned Sable. “Thank you, Anika,” she said, her voice faint. “You are welcome.” Anika pivoted and left, leaving Sable to wonder about Eirik’s choice of words. Dýrr? If I’m so dýrr, why does he treat me like a slave?
Chapter Eight He walked into his jarlhouse, not making a sound, wanting to surprise Sable. Instead she surprised him, bathing in his small lap tub, her back to him. Once he closed the door with the quiet stealth he’d use stalking an enemy, he stripped his clothes off, dropping them on the wooden floor as he approached her. She sang softly in Scottish, a song that made him think of green grass and blue skies, and making love to her under the bright sun. She was so beautiful, so feminine. The whiteness of her skin accented her lovely cures. Her hair fell into the small of her back, rich and thick. He couldn’t wait to delve his hands into it. He craved the feel of that brown silk against his skin. As she stroked the sponge in a circle over her breastbone and up to her neck, Eirik felt his desire mount. The water trapped on the sponge, released, then dripped down her breasts in a slow trail. As he watched the water curve over her nipple, heat encompassed his entire body. His cock stood at attention. “May I join you?” She squeaked and held the sponge defensively to her chest. He laughed. “That sponge does little to cover you, dýrr.” Her eyes narrowed, as if she was attempting to burn a hole in his head. “What?” He held up his hands. He was naked now, and surely ready to introduce her to his bed. Her eyes followed the length of his body and fell to his hardness. “Eirik,” she said, a warning in her voice. He lunged at her and brought her damp body into his arms. She screamed and tried to struggle. He tightened his arms. She was his. He was never letting her go. Eirik reached down and claimed her lips. His body tightened with a need so strong it frightened him. Her hand crept up over his shoulder and linked around his neck. Her fingers began playing with his hair. The action was his undoing. He hauled her into his arms and walked to the bed, positioning her on the edge. He couldn’t think of anything but her. It had been this way between them since the beginning—the blinding emotions unnerved him. He couldn’t think, only feel. Kneeling down in front of her, he started at her feet, massaging and kneading until she moaned. He worked his way up her legs. Her hand dropped onto his head. Fingering his hair, she caressed him. He savored her touch. There wasn’t anything better than the sensation of her hands on him. “Eiriiiik.” Her voice came out as a sigh when his mouth traveled from the inside of her thighs to latch onto her sex. He lapped her, then his tongue penetrating her vagina. He enjoyed her taste, her texture. He wanted to watch her come when he was sucking her. Her hand tightened in his hair as he worked her into a frenzy with his mouth and fingers. One, two, three times he slowly slid them over her clit into her dampness, moving in and out as he simultaneously tasted her. He glanced up. She was coming apart in his arms, shaking inside and out. Watching her, he forced himself to hold back even as his cock lengthened and hardened.
“That’s it, dýrr, enjoy yourself. I love it when you enjoy yourself.” She moaned, her back arched. Gods, so beautiful. Eirik couldn’t wait any longer. Joining her on the bed, he slid her back with his body and entered her. “Ahhh.” Gods, he had found his home in this woman’s body. She was trembling, moaning, it was soooo good. He wanted to draw out their lovemaking, make it last, but his cock had other ideas and was driving him to completion. His body slick with perspiration, Eirik joined their hands and thrust to the hilt. He wanted to bury himself as far as he could and never leave. That was how good it felt to be seated in her body, to be one with her. “Yes,” she hummed in her pleasure. He wanted to answer her but couldn’t talk. He was too far gone in her body, too close to coming. All he could think about was plunging in as far he could, again and again. She was so tight—he fit perfectly. The friction made him want more and more… “Uhhh, Gods.” Eirik pumped several more times in rapid succession, then exploded, his heart seizing, his body tingling from the base of his spine to the tip of his cock. He tensed and with one final push he spilled himself, holding her to him tightly, as if she were the most precious of treasures. He could feel Sable’s sex milking his cock; obviously she was following him. Eirik’s arms gave out and he eased on top of her trying to catch his breath. He felt wrapped up in a blanket of incredible feelings, satisfied and well loved. “You disturbed my bath, Viking.” She panted. Eirik smiled. Hauling her into his arms, he stood. “Would you like me to take you back to it then?” She gave him a lazy smile that told him she was well satisfied. “Mayhap later.” “Yes, mayhap later.” He dropped her back onto the bed and followed her down. **** The shaking bed and a loud bang woke them. When Sable stirred, Eirik groaned and spooned himself against her. “What is that?” She started to rise. He held her in place. “Do not worry, it’s only the mountain.” He snuggled into her body. Dropping his head into the crook of her neck, he breathed in her scent. His penis stirred and hardened into the small of the back. “The mountain?” He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, cupping her breasts. They fit perfectly into his hands. Everything about this woman fit him like a dream. He teased her nipples. “Sometimes the volcano activity makes the ground shake. That was a small tremor.” Eirik ran a hand along her hip. He loved the texture of her skin, so soft, so exquisite. She was the richest of treasures. “A small tremor?” “Yes.” He ran a tongue down her neck and sucked on her shoulder while he pressed himself against her backside, showing her what he wanted. “What is a large tremor like?”
Eirik needed her now. But then, he thought, he always needed her. He entered her from behind. She moaned as her head fell back against him. “I’ll show you a large tremor.” “Eirik, you are insatiable.” Despite her words, he heard the smile in her voice. “Are you complaining?” He withdrew all the way out. She made a noise, somewhere between a groan and a growl. She reached back and drew a hand down his hip, caressing his skin. He hardened further, when he didn’t think it was possible. Her touch did that to him. Drove him beyond simple want to a desire more powerful than any he’d ever felt. He wanted to take her now, hard and fast. She pressed down with her hand, sliding his hips back to her. A need was growing inside him for her to admit how much she wanted him too. But he knew he couldn’t get her to say she so. Not now. Giving in, he drove back inside her damp, hot pussy. She sighed and moaned. Eirik anchored her body with a hand on her hip, holding her while he withdrew and pushed forward. He leaned into her shoulder, licked, sucked, and gave her a small love bite. She jerked and groaned. Panting, she pushed into his thrusts. “I can’t get enough of you.” Eirik was surprised at his admission. He was riding her hard and fast now, as if she was going to leave him. He never wanted to let her go. He feared what she would say when she realized there were no slaves left in his village. With all the elements against them, they could no longer feed them. Eirik’s father released all the Thralls many years ago. He groaned and let his body take him away, buried in the best thing that had ever happened to him. She cried out. Her hands grabbed his, clutching them as she flew. He reveled in her touch. Their joined hands seemed like a small thing, but it was so arousing. He caressed her wrist with his thumb, felt her pounding pulse. He let himself go over the edge into the world of bliss. After, he snuggled with her, kissing her ear. He loved the simple act of holding her. “Now that was a large tremor,” he murmured. She chuckled and settled back against him. Eirik’s breath evened, his heart slowed. He let sleep claim him. His last thought was he was right where he wanted to be.
Chapter Nine “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Sable asked Ericka, her tone gentle. She felt amazed at how close she was to the small girl in the three weeks since she had been brought to Eirik’s village. Three weeks of hard work helping his clan gather food and supplies. Three weeks of learning the plight of a dying people, and to bond with Eirik’s family. And three weeks of giving her body to her Viking master. Just thinking about Eirik made her quiver with want. “I have a seeecrat,” Ericka said. Sable stopped sweeping the wooden floor of the community longhouse. Reaching down, she tucked the blonde hair behind Ericka’s ear. The child, who constantly dogged Sable’s steps, was amazing a feminine mirror of Eirik. A lovely combination. “I think you mean secret, sweetling.” A giggle bubbled from the child’s lips. “Yes secret.” They were alone. The other women slaves had taken the crushed corn to the kitchens to cook the flat bread while Sable cleaned up before dinner. “Okay, tell me your secret. I promise not to tell anyone.” “I can not.” Sable smiled and continued to sweep the floor. “Then do not.” Ericka screeched and stamped her foot on the ground, gaining Sable’s full attention. “Well?” “I tell. Come, I whisper.” Sable rolled her eyes and sank down next to her on the bench. Ericka crooked her finger. Sable leaned in so Ericka could whisper into her ear. Although they were alone in the longhouse, Sable humored her. “There are no slaves.” Sable pulled up. Erika nodded her head in an exaggerated fashion, her blue eyes wide and serious. Sable smiled. “Of course there are other slaves.” She pointed outside. “They just left, sweetling, to make the bread.” Erika shook her head wildly. “No, that is the secret. Eirik says no one to tell you. You are the only slave.” Sable smile died. What is talking about? Is she serious? “Erika, are you saying I am the only slave in this settlement?” She wanted to make sure the child knew what she was talking about. “Yes,” she whispered. “Slaves eat food. We have little. Eirik say no tell you you’re the only one, or you will leave.” Sable felt her heart pounding. All rational though left her head. Jumping up, she grabbed her broom. It was now a weapon. “I’ll kill him!” Ericka was directly on her heels as she stomped out of the longhouse searching for Eirik, broomstick in hand. He was usually practicing with his men in the afternoon as they honed their battle skills at a field on the edge of the village.
Marching to the field, her anger kept her heated so she barely noticed the icy wind. She spotted him instantly. Despite the cold he had shed his jacket and was parrying with Bjorn. Leaning down, he twirled and engaged Leif behind him. His shield stopped a battle-axe coming from his other side. His muscles flexed and his hair flew around his chiseled cheeks. Even though she was furious, she couldn’t help but admire him. He was as skilled in battle as he was in lovemaking. The man was magnificent. Sable sucked in a breath and marched towards him. As she approached, the men broke off, their swords dropping. Eirik stopped fighting as well. His back was to her. She could tell he was confused as to what his men were doing. In her anger, she didn’t feel shamed hitting him from behind. Storming up, she raised the broom and brought it down, slapping him across the back. The broom broke like a twig. He turned and yelled. “What…” “I’ll kill you, you Viking bastard.” She threw down the remaining broom handle, reached over and grabbed a sword from Leif. If she wasn’t busy, she might have laughed at his slack-jawed expression. Instead, she held up the sword and assumed her fighting stance. Eirik automatically raised his sword and shield to defend himself. Sable began to circle him, her anger shielding her from distraction. He backed up. “What the hell are you doing?” he yelled. “Stand and fight for yourself.” Eirik glanced behind Sable where Ericka stood. Sable could hear Ericka yelling. “I told secret. Sorry brother.” His eyes traveled from his sister back to her face. He held up his sword, spreading his fingers on the hilt in a surrender sign. “Now, dýrr.” “Do not dýrr me. No other slaves?” “Well, not officially.” “Not officially,” she screamed. “I’m going to kill you.” “Ericka, you scamp!” he bellowed and slid back one more step. From the corner of her eye, Sable saw his sister scramble off. “What have you to say, Viking? Does your sister lie?” He grimaced, his expression telling her everything she needed to know. “Prepare for battle.” She swung her sword at him and he danced back. “Let me explain.” “Has this all been a falsehood? Everything you have told me?” “No, Sable, if you would just,” he skirted away from another swing of her sword, “put down your weapon.” He grunted when she came after him and held up his sword. “So I can tell you…” “There is naught you could say right now to dig yourself out of this situation. I think it better if we just fight for my freedom.” “Gods.” He raised his sword to stop her attack. The clashing of their swords reverberated over the practice field. Using his shield, he tried to keep her from drawing his blood. He wasn’t fighting, only defending. “You fight like a girl. Is this all you have?”
Her taunting worked and the next strike of their swords sent a vibration down her arm. He was powerful. Way more than she. He had triple her strength, but Sable didn’t care. She was so angry; she wanted to cleave off his head. “Sable, if you continue on this path one of us will get hurt.” He turned and parried a strike, clashing his sword with hers. He locked hers in place with a combination of his sword and shield. They struggled past Bjorn who was shaking his head. She tugged and managed to release her weapon, then she pivoted, using her momentum to strike his shield hard. He growled and pushed forward. His onrush made her stumble back. Before she could regain her balance, he used the hilt of his sword to twist hers out of her hands. As soon as it dropped, Sable brought up her elbow and caught him in the jaw. His head snapped to the side as he absorbed the blow. He shouted and trapped her arms between their bodies with his. Sable was stuck now. Blood tricked from the corner of his mouth. Anger flared in his eyes, his nostrils flared. Sable felt a moment of regret. She hadn’t really wanted to hurt him. She had only swung her sword at places she knew he could parry and stop. His tongue dipped out and he sopped up the blood. “Feel better now that you have drawn my blood?” Sable shook her head. She couldn’t say she was sorry, but her eyes rested on his blood and she knew her remorse was in her face. His expression softened. “Please let me explain. Allow me that courtesy.” She nodded. He loosened her arms. Reaching up, Sable used her sleeve to dab at his cut. He caressed her cheek, his finger drawing a line from her brow to her lips. “I didn’t lie about needing to make you my slave in Scotland. If I had not claimed you the other men would have killed you.” “I know.” She gave him one small victory. “But after that, after we were together…” Her gaze left his mouth to watch his eyes, wanting to see the truth in their blue depths. “Yes.” “I…” “I’m listening, explain.” He ran his fingers over her lips, lining them. Then he leaned down and gently kissed her, wincing as he did. Lifting his head, he whistled in a quick breath. “I wanted you, dýrr. Wanted to be with you, to explore what we had. I couldn’t think of any other way to bring you with me. I had to get the supplies back here. You know how much they were needed. But I couldn’t leave you.” Sable sighed, releasing her anger with her breath. She was stunned by what he was saying. “You could have simply asked me to accompany you. Did you think of that?” He shook his head. Burying his hand in her hair, he hugged her to him. Her head rested on his broad chest. “Would you have come that easily, Sable? Had I simply asked?” He stroked her head, his rapid heartbeat pounding against her ear as if he were afraid of her answer. “I don’t know, truly.” His other hand came up to massage her scalp. “I couldn’t risk it.” At his admission, Sable smiled against his chest. “So you involved the entire village in this scheme?”
He leaned back and glanced around them. Sable followed his move. The villagers had moved away, his men were gone, leaving them privacy. “I did, I’m sorry.” She bit her lip. In the last three weeks she had come to know these people. They were loyal and fierce. Even to Eirik’s father, the most stubborn man of the village. Although he had given up his station as Jarl many years ago, he refused to consider leaving. Out of their allegiance to him, Eirik and the others stayed. Of all the villagers, he was the only one who shunned her, wanting nothing to do with her. “You’ll have to allow me to return home,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “You can’t keep me here forever.” “I know.” He hugged her tighter, as if that would keep her from leaving. Sable pulled back and looked at his mouth. It was bleeding again. She feared the cut might need to be stitched. “Have you a healer?” He shook his head. “They died last month. Disease.” Sable caressed his jaw, then planted a kiss on his chest. “Come, let me take care of your injury.” He released her. As she walked away, she held out her hand. He placed his hand in hers and followed her. “Did you have to strike me?” he said, sounding like a little boy whining over a skinned knee. She laughed at him. “It was an accident.” He fingered the cut. “Doesn’t feel like one. I think you bruised my back with that broom handle.” Sable chuckled. “Come, I’ll make it better. You just need some tender loving care.” He smiled and brought their entwined hand to his chest, rubbing the back of her hand over his muscles. “Can that be a little more love than care?” Sable smiled. “Mayhap.”
Chapter Ten “In my language Einar means warrior.” Sable’s gaze shifted to Eirik, sitting next to his father as they ate the evening meal in the community longhouse, the place for celebrating and gathering. It was where they joined to tell stories, sing, drink, dance, socialize and enjoy the family Eirik had created in his village. Watching father and son, Sable felt a pang in her heart. Her parents had died when she was young. She had been raised by John D’Reincolt, the Realm leader. He had been like a father to her. As she grew, his daughter Serena had become Sable’s best friend. It was at times like last night’s gathering she most missed the Realm and her adopted family. For the most part, Eirik’s father ignored her, making her feel like she didn’t belong. This was the first time he’d spoken directly to her. “What he is saying is…” She looked pointedly at Einar and interrupted Eirik. “I know what he said. In my country, I am also a Warrior of the highest standing.” “I see you fight.” He glanced at Eirik. “With my son.” Sable nodded. She frequently practiced with Eirik and his men. Testing her skills on his men helped her improve. The fierce Viking fighting style combined with her Realm skills made her the Warrior to be beaten. Of course, Eirik bested her every time, a fact that constantly irritated her. She was just too distracted when she fought with him. She would rather he hauled her back to bed than to cross swords. Soooo. Sable sat back and folded her arms in front of her. He can speak English. He broke off a piece of dried jerky and shoved it into his mouth. He pointed at her, the remaining meat still fisted in his hand. “You are good.” Sable raised her eyebrows. She saw Eirik hiding a smile behind his hand. Well, if Einar was going to talk, maybe she could press him. “You know, Einar, there are many open spaces in other countries where your people could live and flourish.” He growled and waved his hand at her. “My son will keep my people here, Iceland, our home. The home of our fathers and their fathers.” Sable bristled. “There will be no more sons if Eirik does not do something.” Einar’s fist slammed on the table and rocked the entire structure. Sable’s spine stiffened. She was not going to back down. “Einar you gave up the right to make decisions about this settlement years ago. Why do you hold Eirik back?” “Sable.” Eirik’s stern voice stopped her from any further outburst. Einar sat back, appearing shocked by her statement. He turned toward Eirik. “Son, do you want to move?” Eirik sighed and propped his chin in his hands. Good Gods, had they never discussed Eirik’s feelings about the subject?
“Father, I am concerned about our state. So many have died. The land has dried up. The cold continues to get worse every year. The mountain has taken entire villages with its fire. It might be time to think about returning to Norway.” Sable remembered when Eirik had explained that Norway was where most of his people had come from. The memory fled as she watched tears formed in Einar’s eyes. He slapped Eirik on the shoulder and nodded. “You are Jarl, my son. However, I will never leave here. So go.” He waved his hand. “But do not expect your mother, Ericka or I to follow.” Eirik gave Sable a pointed stare. “I understand, Father.” With a nod, he rose and strode from the table. As soon as Eirik left the longhouse, Sable glared at Einar. “You stubborn bastard. You won’t be happy till all of your people die.” Without waiting for his response, she got up and went after Eirik. She found him on the rise overlooking the valley. Deep in thought, he didn’t acknowledge her presence until she walked up behind him and slipped her arms around his chest. “I’m sorry, I thought…” “I know.” He patted her arm. “He is so stubborn. His life has always been here. He will not leave. But I know I must do something, for the good of all who rely on me. But, Gods, I will miss Mother and Ericka… “ His voice tailed off. The sun was sinking below the horizon. The contrast of the black smoking mountain and the glossy white ice reflecting off the sunset was striking. “It is beautiful here, untamed. But underneath is a land harsh and unforgiving,” she said as she laid her cheek against his back. “Yes, it is.” He turned her in his arms and claimed her lips. When she came up for air her heart was thundering in her chest. “Kind of like a certain beautiful woman I know.” “And a man I know.” He smiled and leaned his chin on the top of her head. They remained on the rise until the sun sank beneath the horizon. Arm in arm they walked back to Eirik’s house. They stayed in for the evening.
Chapter Eleven “Attack!” Leif shouted, flinging open the front door. Eirik sat up in his bed, his sleep fleeing. Leif nodded and left. Eirik heard him calling the warning to the others. “Gods! Sable, get dressed!” Eirik threw back the covers and reached for his breeches. Moving quickly, he donned his leather armor, then threw another leather shirt in Sable’s direction. “Hurry,” he said, even though she was already pulling on her clothes. “What’s happening?” “It will surely be an attack from another settlement.” He plucked his axe off the wall and tucked his long knife into his belt. Grabbing both his swords, he slid them into their scabbards. Glancing at Sable, he grabbed another sword and tossed it to her. She caught it in the air without effort. Even in their stress, he couldn’t help but admire her, half naked, scrambling around for her clothing. She had that sexy kitten look that pleased his eyes. She was a Warrior and his lover, what a strange combination. He didn’t even think about asking her to stay inside. She wouldn’t have it. He loved that about her. Loved? Where had that word come from? Did he love her? He had never been attracted to a woman like he was to Sable, but love? He shook his head and tried to push his thoughts away. He needed to concentrate, to protect his family, his people and Sable against their attackers. Screaming and warrior cries rang outside the house. Eirik secured his weapons and raced to join the fight. He heard Sable running behind him. “Gods.” It appeared as if over fifty men were slaughtering his small village. His men were racing out of their homes to defend their families. Before he could assess the situation further, he was set upon by an armed man with a sharp sword and a ferocious snarl. He heard the clash of swords next to him, and knew Sable had joined the fight. As always during a fight, energy pulsed through his body, making him stronger and faster than practicing with his own men. He slashed his sword into his opponent’s ribs. The man went down like a tree struck by lightning. Feeling like he was on fire, Eirik tore through a dozen fighting Vikings before he reached his father’s side. Einar was a skilled fighter. Maybe not as good as Eirik, but darn close. “Who is it?” he yelled. “Axe’s men.” “Christ.” Eirik feinted left, spun and took another man down. “Father, try to break away and move the women and children to the longhouse. I’ll cover you.” “Aye,” his father yelled, and sliced his way toward the children. Out of the corner of his eye, Eirik could see Sable fighting. She was strong and didn’t falter. Weeks of practice had honed her skills. It was in that moment he realized how much he really loved her. She was fighting for his family, willing to give her blood for their dying cause. He couldn’t have asked for a
better woman. He fought toward her, leaving a trail of men swearing and holding onto various parts of their anatomy. Reaching Sable, he positioned himself back to back with her. “Hello, my love.” Eirik struck down a particular nasty foe with his battle-axe. “Hello, darling.” She grunted, spun and took another man down. “Are you well?” he asked. She gave a warrior yell and charged. He glanced in time to see her thrust left, taking out another man. “Yes, I’m doing splendid, and you?” she said, panting. The absurdity of their conversation struck him as funny, but their chatter helped keep him calm and focused. Especially since he was now positioned at her side. He had to protect her. “Sable?” Eirik raised his sword and absorbed a blow to his shield. “Yes?” She dropped down to the ground, kicked out the feet of another man, and killed him. “I’m in love with you.” She gave a battle yell and disposed of another man. She spared him a quick glance. “Don’t you think there might be a better time to discuss this?” Eirik smiled. Pulling his knife from his belt, he threw it at a man approaching Sable from the side. The blade hit him directly between the eyes. The man went down instantly. “Mayhap. Just wanted to tell you.” Eirik raised his head in the air and howled. It was time to get serious. “Watch your back, dýrr, I’m going to take care of these bastards.” He took three steps forward. Dropping his shield, he pulled a second sword from his back and got to work. It took a matter of minutes to litter the ground with bodies. Eirik had always been a gifted fighter, likely from his Berserkers heritage. When these men had decided to raid his village and kill his people, they had signed their death warrants. Taking a deep breath to calm his pounding heart, Eirik scanned the area. They had fought well. The dead bodies were not his men. He didn’t see any further immediate threat. Making a hand signal to Sable, he jogged toward the longhouse, praying his father had led the women and children to safety. He could hear Sable behind him. But for some reason Eirik had a bad feeling. He passed Leif and Bryon guarding the doors, both looking grim. When he entered the longhouse, the first thing he saw was his mother on her hands and knees, crying over a man’s body lying on the floor. Another step, Eirik saw lay her cheek rest against the man’s chest. Eirik’s heart dipped. It couldn’t be his father. It couldn’t. “Noooo!” He rushed forward and dropped to his knees next to his mother. His father’s breathing was labored, wheezing. A large bloodstain spread across his chest directly over his heart. He had been stabbed, the wound fatal. He was dying. “Father!” Eirik picked up his father’s hand. It was so cold, as cold as the harsh metal that had severed his life’s blood. “Father,” Eirik whispered as he brought his hand to his father’s cheek. His father had enough breath to whisper one last order. “Son, take my people away.” Eirik nodded as tears rolled down his face. He felt the weight of Sable’s hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Then his father took his last breath and passed on. His mother
howled in grief and rested her head on his father’s chest. Eirik took a moment to grieve, dropping his head to his father’s hand. His mother still sobbed when Eirik lifted his head. “Who did this?” he demanded. Leif answered, “Axe’s men. They took several of the cattle and horses, then he left his men to clean up.” “I vow I will kill him.” Eirik stood and drew his sword. Raising it into the air, he shouted, “Prepare for battle.” His men cheered and raised their swords in response. **** “Eirik, I beg you, let me go with you.” She was starting to realize he was as stubborn as his father had been. Shaking his head, he secured a belt around his middle. He lifted a gloved hand and stroked her jaw. Sable clasped her hand over his, trapping his palm to her cheek. She reached up and returned the caress. Then she leaned forward, stood on her toes and kissed him hard. His arms came around her and he clutched her tightly, his mouth ravaging hers. He drew back. His eyes were red-rimmed from his grief. He had vowed to kill Axe in revenge for his father’s death. She knew how seriously he took his vows. “No, Sable, I need you to stay here with the women and children.” Sable nodded. He pushed her hair off her forehead. “Please take care,” she said. He smiled. “Gods, I’m in love with you, dýrr.” She remembered him telling her of his love in the heat of battle. She didn’t have time then to give him a proper response. She wanted to now. “I love you as well, my Viking.” His smile turned into a full grin. “I knew it.” Picking her up, he gave a Viking yell and spun her around. Then he allowed her body to slide down his until her feet rested on the ground. “You also take care.” With another quick nod, he turned and left the house to join his men. **** Less than an hour after the men left, Sable realized Axe’s strategy. His men strolled back into the settlement as if they owned it. Sable stood facing him now, sword in her hand. She had ordered the other women and children into the longhouse and thank the gods they had complied. Now it was just her against a dozen men with bloodlust in their eyes. “You mine thrall.” Axe was calling her his slave. Sable didn’t like it. “In your dreams.” She charged and was surrounded by six of his largest men. She twirled and yelled, engaging one after another. Against so many men, she didn’t have a chance. She managed to down four of them before she took a deep blade cut to her thigh. Her leg buckled and she fell to one knee. Before she could defend herself, Axe grabbed her hair, pulled her head back and brought
a blade to her throat. Sable tried to slow her breathing as the blade nicked her. A warm wetness dripped down her throat, a contrast to the cold metal of the blade. Her leg throbbed from the wound. “You fight, you die.” Sable growled. He had said that to her before. But dying was not in her plans. She had a village of women and children to protect. Axe yelled something to his men. Two pairs of beefy hands grabbed her arms from behind. She was dragged along the ground and into the longhouse. “Anika, take everyone to the back,” she yelled at Eirik’s mother. Anika herded the woman and children toward the back of the house. The men dropped Sable on the floor, face down. She bounced like a toy and groaned at the pain in her leg. She stared over her shoulder. Axe pointed at her. “Stay.” Sable turned and sat on the floor, waiting for her fate to catch up with her. Eirik had helped her cheat death once and taken a vow to protect her. But he wasn’t here now. **** Eirik realized Axe had tricked him within an hour. They stopped on the hill overlooking Axe’s settlement. No men were in sight. Eirik turned and made eye contact with Bjorn. “Where are the men?” Bjorn’s gaze shifted to the village. Immediately, Eirik made the connection. In that moment, he was more scared than he’d ever been in his life. He turned and began running. His men didn’t even need to ask, they followed him without question. As Eirik ran, he wondered. Would they get there in time to save their families?
Chapter Twelve Sable pressed her hand to her bleeding leg, attempting to stop the flow. Blood soaked through her leather breeches. She realized she was losing too much blood. The wound needed stitching. She peered around the room, plotting a way to get them out safely. The women and children huddled together in the back of the longhouse. They were quiet, savvy to the way of war. Because of their stillness, they hadn’t needlessly attracted the attention of Axe’s men. Sable was eternally grateful for their calm. She couldn’t let anything happen to any of these people. Axe had left maybe a quarter of an hour ago. Likely he was checking to see if any opposition remained in the village. She knew what he would find—they were alone. Sable curled up, pulling her arms around her legs, and rested her head on her tired arms. Her situation was dire. She told herself she wouldn’t think about what Axe was planning. Yet she couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had hated her from the first moment they met. She feared the price she would pay for pointing that knife at his cock. Hearing footsteps returning, she tensed. Even though a helmet obscured her view of his face, she knew it was Axe. Metal dropped down over his nose, making him appear like the Devil reincarnated. But Sable recognized Axe by his long-legged, purposeful stride. He had something in mind, and she guessed she wouldn’t like it. He yelled orders at his men. Several filed out. A few remained. He removed his helmet and handed it to the man next to him. Then he began removing his clothing. Sable knew what he was going to do, her body feeling like shards of ice floated in her blood. As he reached the ties of his shirt, Sable formed a plan. The element of surprise was her strongest weapon. Perhaps her only one. “You fight, you die,” he told her as he continued to divest himself of his clothing, handing his weapons to the man at his side. Sable reminded herself she was a Wolf Warrior, chosen at the age of six to train for her craft. Her mark, a wolf tattoo, meant only one thing—she would die fighting for her cause. Of this, Sable was certain. All Wolf Warriors, when facing death, automatically broadcasted a telepathic message for assistance. Sable was doing this now, but it would do little good. Her fellow Solarian Warriors were safe and sound in their Scottish homes, tucked far away in the highland hills. Forcing herself to her feet, she ignored the pain in her leg and widened her stance, her hands lifted. She could feel the blood began to trickle down her leg. Apparently thinking she was making a sign of surrender, Axe reached for the tie of his beeches. When his hands wrapped around the last of those ties, Sable struck. She dived forward and rolled on the floor, coming up next to the man at his side. She snatched the long knife from his hand and lunged at Axe. He jumped back, and the blade missed his heart, sinking instead into his leg. As she pulled it out, ready to try again, Axe’s man hit her from behind. She went down hard and scrambled for another weapon. Axe’s yells filled the longhouse and she glimpsed him clutching his knee.
Good, she had at least disabled one body part. She plucked up another sword. Axe’s man leaned over her, his sword slicing down. Rolling onto her back, she held the weapon at his heart. He stopped, his sword stilling. Sable slowly rose to her feet, her weapon never wavering. But her leg started to buckle. While she tried to pull some of her weight off of it, the man backed from the point of her sword. They slowly circled each other. He ran forward and engaged her. Sable parried, dipped and tried to avoid his blow. She wasn’t moving very well, dragging an injured leg. Suddenly, a yell from behind the man made him turn, then back away. Axe stood with a crossbow in his hands, pointing it directly at her. “Now, thrall,” he said in a voice filled with hate, “you die.” Sable didn’t doubt his word. She heard the noise, the swish of the bolt. She tried to skid sideways but tripped. She could feel herself falling. The arrow struck her as she went down, and she cried out. She landed on her back, her breath caught in her throat. The burning sensation of an arrow sliding effortlessly into her chest was incredibly painful. Her hand to her breast, she gasped and growled at the same time. For a moment, she lay stunned. She tried to sit up, only to drop back down. She had been injured many times in battle, but she had never known this feeling. She was floating, as if her body was outside herself looking down. She saw herself lying helplessly on the floor of the longhouse. Axe was standing over her, smiling. Then he yelled something at her. He threw his hands up in the air and turned to leave. Sable gushed out a breath and whooshed back into herself, feeling sensation return with a blinding pain. Gritting her teeth, she turned her head to the side. She needed to see what was happening. Axe was yelling at his man and motioning toward her. His man shrugged. Axe struck him so hard he fell. He turned and screamed to all his men. Glancing at her, he shook his head and gave her a disgusted expression. Then he pivoted and left, motioning for his men to follow. Guess if he couldn’t have her, he decided it wasn’t worth a war with Eirik. Sable sighed. Thank the gods she had saved the women and children. **** Eirik screamed, when he rounded the hill and saw Axe’s men marching from the main longhouse. He was going to kill Axe. He didn’t hesitate, just kept running “Axe!” Axe stopped and looked up. He yelled at his men as Eirik came bearing down on him. With a battle cry, Eirik’s men rushed the invading group. Leading his men, Eirik galloped straight at Axe, stampeding him, his sword drawn. Metal clashed against metal, sparks flew and Axe went down. Eirik stomped his foot on top of Axe’s chest and held his sword to his neck. “I could kill you now.” Eirik let his sword touch Axe’s jugular vein, nicking it. Blood seeped out. “Fight.” Eirik lifted his foot and stepped back. He wanted to kill Axe in a fair fight, the Viking way, not lying on the ground. “Let’s finish this.” He dropped his shield and pulled his other sword from behind his back. Axe charged him. As fast as a bolt of lightning, Eirik feigned right, twirled, and brought his sword into Axe’s back. Axe
screamed and jumped aside, taking a slice in his ribs. Panting, Axe brought his sword back up. “Are you ready to die?” Eirik taunted Axe. Growling, Axe charged. Eirik sidestepped and saw the opportunity opened wide. He sliced into Axe’s left side. He knew immediately he had wielded the deathblow. He felt no satisfaction, only disgust that Axe had driven him to kill. “Ughhh.” Axe dropped his sword and clutched his side. He fell to his knees as blood began to bubble out of his mouth. His death would be quicker than Eirik’s father’s. How unfortunate. Axe slid to his side, then finally tumbled to the ground. His breath rasped out of his chest. “Now you know how my father felt.” Eirik spat on Axe as he took his final breath. He turned away. Axe’s remaining men had been either killed or had surrendered. Eirik glanced around, attempting to find the families and, most of all, his woman. “Eirik.” His sister’s shriek from outside his house had him turning in terror. Something had happened to either his mother or Sable. He ran toward Ericka. She stepped aside so he could enter the house. He skidded to a stop when he entered the door and found Sable lying prone, not moving. Her chest was rising, but her breath was labored. A sense of deja vu soaked into his consciousness. Not Sable. No. “Oh Gods.” His mother was holding Sable’s hand and crying. Eirik rushed forward and fell to his knees next to his mother. “What happened?” He started to peel back Sable’s leather shirt. Weeping silently, his mother helped. Eirik gasped at the cut in her left breast, right above her heart. “Axe struck her with a cross-bow. I was able to remove most of the bolt. It was armor piercing.” She pointed to the broken wood beside Sable. “There is too much bleeding.” Eirik heard the thickness of his own voice, not even sounding like him. “Her leg is also injured,” Anika said, grabbing a cloth and handing it to Eirik. Looking at the torn hem of her dress, he saw that his mother had ripped her own clothing to use for bandages. He began packing the bleeding wound on Sable’s breast. “Bind her leg,” he said. His mother switched around to work on her leg. Some of the other women began tearing their clothing, making more bandages. Ever since their healer had died, they had been hard pressed to deal with the injured. Eirik knew the basics, born from treating too many comrades after battle, but something like this… He was lost. Resolutely, he packed the cloth against the wound, then wrapped another bandage around her shoulder to bind it. There was blood everywhere. Eirik glanced at his hands and saw they were covered in Sable’s blood. He had vowed this would never happen. What the hell had happened? I can’t lose her as well as my father. She stirred under his touch. Hope made his breath hitch. He pushed back the hair that had fallen in her eyes. She flickered opened those brown beauties. A tear formed and fell down the side of her face. He gently wiped it away. That one tear brought forth his own.
He tried to blink them back, but it was no use. He felt them spill down his face. She groaned, tried to move, and arched in pain, letting out a small scream. “Stay down, dýrr, you’ve been injured.” Eirik pressed a hand to her uninjured shoulder. She blinked, more tears sliding down the side of her face. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. “I love you,” he whispered, the wetness of his tears mixing with hers. “Eirik, love you … I…” Her eyes flickered closed, her lips compressed as if holding back a wave of pain. He stroked her face and inhaled. His stomach clenched. Her pain was also his. She grew still. Eirik felt his own heart stop. No! Don’t go! He picked up her hand and raised it to his lips. “Stay with me, dýrr.” He placed a hand on her cheek, stroking it softly. Her skin was cold, just as his father had been before he passed. “Eirik, so cold…” He glanced at his mother. “Should I move her?” “Yes.” She snapped at the women around them, who hurriedly made up a bed in the corner. “I’ll warm you,” Eirik murmured to Sable. He bent and lifted her in his arms, trying not to jar her. Her head fell back, her hair sweeping down his body. He remembered carrying her like this before, after the battle in the Scottish forest, when he had first met her. He must have loved her immediately, from the first moment he laid his hands on her. If she didn’t hold on… His mind blanked. He was terrified to contemplate a life without Sable. He kissed her forehead and slowly lowered her onto the bed. His mother stood next to him. He was terrified, his hand shaking as he smoothed the blanket over her body. “What must we do? Shall we cauterize the wound?” He heard the pleading in his voice, and knew he was speaking to the gods as well as his mother. “I know not, Eirik.” She ran a hand over Sable’s forehead. “Since the healer passed on, no one is skilled here on these matters.” She sat down on the bed next to Sable. Sable stirred under his mother’s hand. Her eyes fluttered open and met Eirik’s worried gaze. “Eirik,” she whispered. “Save your energy.” He stroked her face with his thumb, then reached down and twined her hand into his. He could feel her weak pulse and it sent chills through his spine. Sucking in a breath, he tried to calm himself. It would do no good for her to see him panic. “Take me home.” Her request stunned him. She couldn’t travel in her condition. If she had any chance of recovery, the two-day voyage might take that away and kill her. His eyes shifted to his mother’s. Her worry mirrored his. “I’m not asking, Viking,” Sable commanded, then moaned. “Sable.” he said, his voice soothing, as he would use with Ericka when she wanted to do something dangerous.
“I’m telling you,” she whispered, “take me home.” Her tone changed from demanding to pleading. “Please, take me home.” Another tear slid from her eye and pooled on her cheek. He wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. “You might not survive that journey in your current condition.” He knew his words were blunt, but he wanted to be honest. “I know.” She sighed. “Just take me home.” Eirik’s heart clenched in fear. He tried to compose himself, tried to be reasonable. Under his hand, her skin was so cold. His woman. Whom he had come to know—to love. So strong, so passionate, it broke his heart to see her crying. She was asking him to take her home, asking him to do something that might be the death of her. Yet he couldn’t deny her request. Gods, it wasn’t fair this was happening to her. If he could kill Axe again, he would. “What will I do…” He stopped and tried to control himself. Looking up at the rough ceiling, he told himself to find peace. He tried, but could feel the tears gathering again in the back of his eyelids. He told himself not to show his emotions to her, but failed. Looking down, he felt a lone tear drip down his cheek. “How will I live if anything happens to you, dýrr?” He reached up and brushed the tear from his cheek as if it were an annoying fly. Watching him, her eyes widened. She squeezed his hand, the movement so slight he barely felt it. “How?” he demanded. “Eirik, I cannot survive here. There is no healer. If I can make it home, I might have a chance.” Her lips trembled, more tears slipped down the side of her face. Eirik kept mopping them up, mingling the wetness of their combined tears on his hands. “Please,” she swallowed, “take me home.” Resigned, he nodded. She had won. He could not deny her. He leaned forward and caressed her lips with his. Her breath was ragged. If he could sustain her with his own air right now, he would. If he could, he would give his own life in exchange for hers. He loved her like no other. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “Rest.” She nodded and drifted off. Eirik rose and stood for a moment, watching Sable sleep, a pinched look on her face, so beautiful and so pale. His mouth clenched, he turned. He’d made a vow to Sable, and now he had to keep it. It seemed as if the entire village had assembled behind them. Their faces were clouded with sympathy, as if they realized what he was feeling. This was his family, and Sable had become part of the family in the last four weeks. He gestured to them to follow him to the other end of the longhouse so their voices wouldn’t disturb Sable. His mother stayed by Sable’s bedside, and he nodded his thanks. When they reached the other end, he turned toward the men, women and children. They waited patiently, their expressions trusting. Taking a deep breath, he made the most difficult decision of his life. He nodded at Bjorn and Leif. “Prepare the village for departure. We leave as soon as we are packed. You will lead the ships. One will drop Sable and me in Scotland, then sail on to Norway.” He turned to his people and saw hope creeping into their weary faces.
“We are returning to our homeland,” he yelled. He punched his hand in the air. “Are you with me?” Without hesitation, everyone cheered, wives hugged husbands, children jumped up and down. Eirik nodded. This journey was a long time coming. He looked at the other end of the longhouse to see if their cheers had disturbed Sable, but she lay still. Too still. His heart hitching, he conferred with Leif. “Prepare immediately, I leave within the hour. You are the Jarl of this settlement now, Leif.” Leif appeared stunned speechless. After a moment, he sputtered, “Eirik, what are you about?” Eirik pivoted toward Sable before he answered. It was time to sacrifice his leadership. “I will stay with her. I know not if I will return to Norway.” His gaze beseeched Leif. “I need you to take me to Scotland, then join the remaining group in Norway.” He nodded at Bjorn and raised his arm for a warrior’s salute. “You, Bjorn, will lead the settlement to Norway. Leif will follow after taking Sable and I to Scotland.” “Eirik, how will you make your way to us?” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I will.” Bjorn began to protest. “Are you questioning your Jarl?” Bjorn fell silent and looked at Leif. “Never, Jarl, you know I will do whatever you ask of me.” Eirik hated talking to him this way. Bjorn and Leif were his most trusted friends and warriors. They had fought and almost died together many times over. His expression softened. “My place is with Sable now. I have made a Viking’s vow. Please take care of my people for me.” He clasped arms with Bjorn, a respectful salute from one warrior to another, their hands wrapped around each other’s forearms. With his other arm, he did the same with Leif. “I trust you both. I must do this.” Leif nodded and dropped his gaze. Eirik thought he saw tears in his friend’s eyes. “A Viking’s vow must never be broken,” Bjorn said. “We will make you proud.” Eirik smiled and released their arms. “I know.” He turned toward Leif. “Quickly let’s prepare.” Leif nodded his acknowledgement and strode away, Bjorn following. Eirik felt a hand on his shoulder and small arms going clutching his leg. His mother and sister hugged him. “You have made the right decision, my son.” “Eirik, I will miss you.” Ericka’s cry was almost his undoing. Crouching down, he held back his sorrow as he hugged her small body. “Be brave, little sister.” He clutched her head into his chest. “I will see you again one day. Remember, the word Viking means to go a traveling.” He smiled into her tear-filled eyes. “We will see each other again.” He kissed her cheek and released her. “Mother, will you help me prepare Sable for travel?”
“Of course.” She began giving orders and the women hustled. Eirik realized he’d learned as much about being a leader from his mother as his father. Whatever it would take to make Sable comfortable during the journey, his mother would see it done. He glanced around the longhouse, running his hand along the wooden post. He had helped build this house, crafting it from the land alongside his father. They had traded for the wood in Norway and the tapestries and rugs in Scandinavia. He shook his head when he thought about the struggles the settlement had been through since they had come to Iceland. But the land wanted them gone. It was clear to him now. The land gave them life and was now taking it back. The volcano, the ice, and now sickness. “We will go, my beautiful Iceland. You can be at peace.” Sighing, he patted the wood. Then he prepared to leave the only home he had known.
Chapter Thirteen They took the streamlined longboat instead of the Knorr. The longboat was used in days past to raid and pillage. The fast moving vessel could sail in and out of tight places, helping to create the Vikings’ feared reputations. But today it was being used for a much deeper purpose; to grant a dying Wolf Warrior her final request. With the luck of the gods and the wind at their back, they traveled for almost two full days. Much to Eirik’s surprise and relief, Sable held her own. He tucked the blanket around her yet again, checking to ensure she was fully covered. She was sleeping, albeit restlessly. Stirring, she moaned his name. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then rested his cheek next to hers. “All is well, rest peacefully.” She rubbed her cheek against his whiskered face. He frowned, feeling the heat she gave off, as if a fire smoldered inside her. Her fever had begun late the first night and it terrified him. Her skin was clammy and blotched red. She was burning up. “How much farther?” she asked. “Nearly there. You are doing well.” He added the words he’d said a thousand times in the last two days. “Stay with me.” She nodded and shifted. A moan followed. “So cold.” She sighed against his ear. He leaned back and tugged off his leather cape, then added it on top of the wool ones already on her. He hugged her to him. “You will fight, Sable,” he commanded. “I have vowed to protect you. You will fight for your life. You are a Wolf Warrior of the highest order.” She nodded, sucked in a shaky breath. “I will fight for you, Eirik.” Nodding, she drifted back to sleep. Thank the gods, he thought as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. **** The rising sun painted the east horizon in glorious pinks and reds when Leif set Eirik and Sable down on the coast of Scotland. Because of Eirik’s sense of urgency he decided to carry Sable rather than drag her on a litter. His decision was as much for his sake as hers. She weighed nothing to him, and he needed to be close to her. He nodded to Leif as his men pushed the boat back into the ocean. “Take care, my friend,” Leif shouted as he hopped over the shields into the boat. “I hope this will not be our last meeting.” “As I do also, my friend. Take care of my people.” Eirik was torn when Leif settled in the boat and grabbed an oar. Saving Sable was the right thing to do, but he couldn’t guarantee Sable’s people would not kill him for returning—as they had vowed to do. The Solarian had already warned him—return and die. With that danger in store, Eirik couldn’t risk the lives of any more of his men. He needed to return her by himself. He had vowed to protect Sable and he was going to honor his vow. Turning, he faced the land. Now it was just a matter of retracing his steps.
**** Eirik heard the lingering howl as he reached the edge of the forest. He recognized the noise and named the wolf that emitted it. Midnight. He stopped walking and shifted Sable. She had been floating in and out of consciousness for the past three hours. Her fever was reaching deadly degrees. She mumbled incoherently, frequently calling for her wolf and for him. He needed to cool her off quickly. He delved deeper into the forest, higher into the hills toward the sound of rushing water. Coming into a clearing, he was stunned to see a huge waterfall crashing into a pool. He lowered Sable onto a grassy embankment. He wanted to see if he could bathe her brow to try and bring down her fever. The water would help. Pulling a rag from his belt, he left Sable to soak it in the water. When he turned, he froze. Since leaving the sandy coastline, the feeling of being followed hadn’t left him. Now the sense was getting stronger. Suddenly a huge black wolf bounded through the trees and ran toward Sable. Midnight. The wolf took a guarding stance in front of her, facing off with Eirik. Its teeth bared, the wolf growled, then lunged. The hair on the back of Eirik’s neck stood on end. He crouched low and dropped his head in a sign of submission. Then he transported his thoughts to Midnight. Sable had told him had she had a special connection with her Wolf. Eirik had already proven to Midnight he had the same link. I will not hurt her. I am here to help. Midnight barked, not responding to Eirik’s plea. Damn wolf. Stubborn just like Sable. Eirik brought his eyes up and locked gazes with Midnight, a sign of aggression, telling Midnight he was in charge. Slowly, inch by inch, he lifted to his full height. Not taking his eyes from Midnight’s, he prepared to step forward. Let me help her, Midnight. I love her. I would never hurt her. I vow this to you. Before he could move, a bolt landed within millimeters of his foot. He halted, his head pivoting from left to right. This was the threat he had sensed, going beyond one simple, angry wolf. The entire Realm of Sable’s people surrounded him. Wolf growls reverberated throughout the valley. These were Warriors in full battle gear and paint. They were ready to fight. Every place he looked, another Warrior stepped out of the trees, one at a time, until there were too many for him to count. “Disarm, Viking, or we will drop you where you stand.” Another bolt flew, landing next to the first. A huge, dark-haired man stood at the top of the hill. His expression was as fierce as a mountain. He looked battle-trained and hungry for Eirik’s blood. “The next will be in your heart,” he said. Eirik slowly reached behind his back and pulled out both his swords. He threw them as far as he could. Then he grabbed his long knife from the sheath at his waist. He chucked it into the trees. He reached down and plucked the dagger from his boot and threw it as well. A trio of warriors stepped from the woods, collected his weapons, and carried them away. Eirik shivered. He could very well die right here, right now. He needed to think.
“I am here in peace. Sable has been injured.” He pointed to her slumbering form resting on the grass. “I came here for your help. I would never harm her.” Brown hair flying, a beautiful female Warrior ran down the small embankment at breakneck speed. Though the warrior in charge called for her to stop, she kept running. “Sable!” she called. She drew up her crossbow as she went, pointing it directly at Eirik. The dark-haired man shouted one more time, then sprinted after her. Eirik recognized the man. He had called himself Roan during the last battle, identifying himself as the leader of the Solarians. The woman must be his mate. Obviously, he didn’t have any more control over her than Eirik did Sable. “Step back now, Viking.” Roan ordered. Eirik paced back three steps as the couple approached Sable. They peeled back the blankets. The woman gasped and immediately stood and trained her crossbow on Eirik. He tensed. The look in her eye told him a story. She intended to kill him. She waved her hand, a signal of some sort. The warriors surrounding them moved closer. Some pulled swords, others pointed crossbows directly at him. He was doomed. “I told your man if Sable was hurt you would die!” she yelled. Roan came up beside her, the anger in his face stronger surpassing his mate’s. Eirik lifted his head. He was prepared to die when he heard a faint cry. “Serena, no!” Roan’s woman glanced behind her. With a wordless cry, she immediately dropped to her knees next to Sable. Eirik rushed forward, only to be stopped by a half dozen warriors. He struggled and cried out, “Let me go to her!” He tried to rip himself from their hands. Someone hit him on the back of the knees and forced him to the ground. Eirik growled and fisted his hands, preparing for hand-to-hand fighting. “No!” Sable’s protest was weak, yet it sounded loud in the silence that followed. Warriors shifted to see Sable, inadvertently giving Eirik a direct view of Sable’s lovely face. She stared at the woman she called Serena. “Do not harm…” She took a shaky breath and continued, her voice weak, “Do not harm him.” Eirik yelled, straining against the arms holding him, trying to thrash his way out. With a wave of Roan’s hand, the warriors released him. He stumbled toward Sable and dropped down on the opposite side of Serena, his breathing rapid, sweat beading his brow. He tucked the blankets back around Sable and gently stroked her cheek. “Do not talk, dýrr. Rest.” He leaned down and kissed her lips. “All will be well. You are home now.” “Eirik.” Her faint voice was like a whisper of the wind. She very slowly lifted her hand. Eirik clutched it in his. “If I don’t make it, I want to tell you how much…” She broke off, as if a full sentence cost her too much. Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “I love you, Eirik.” Eirik released the breath he had been holding. He needed to get her to a healer’s care. “I love you also, dýrr.” She blinked rapidly, as if she could no longer hold her eyes open.
“Now rest,” he murmured. “I will be here when you awaken.” She nodded and closed her eyes. Eirik held her close and prayed. Then he released her and glared at the couple next to him. “She needs a healer. Now! What happened to get me here is not of importance,” he yelled, glancing at her still body. Midnight came to Sable’s head, licking her cheek and whining. Eirik thought the corners of her lips curled upward. “Agreed.” Serena shot into action, motioning several warriors forward. Eirik stopped them with a simple look. He stooped down and gently lifted Sable into his arms. “Show me where to take her,” he demanded. Roan pointed to the hill. “Let’s move out,” Eirik said. And so they led him through the falls, to the forbidden Realm of Solaria.
Chapter Fourteen When Sable awoke she felt different. Stronger. Cooler. Most of all, alive. A sense of surprise filled her. She had thought surely this time her luck had run out, yet she wasn’t dead. Shifting on the bed, she winced. Looking down, she saw her shoulder was covered with a bandage, as well as her leg, and both throbbed with a dull pain. She almost felt glad for the pain. Only the dead felt nothing. A groan sounded to her right. She turned toward the noise to see Eirik slumped in a wooden chair. His head bent to his chest, he was lightly snoring. His face was covered with a fine sheen of blond whiskers, like new grass growing in the spring. She smiled. He appeared a little worse for wear. A smaller snore brought her gaze to the floor. Midnight was also blissfully snoozing away. When Sable stirred, her wolf shifted her head, her eyes opening. She stared at Sable and whined, a happy sound, as if she welcomed Sable back. A smile lit Sable’s face. It was good to see her companion. It felt as if a missing piece of her soul was back in place. Go back to sleep, my friend, I am fine. Midnight laid her head back down and gazed adoringly at her. Glancing around, Sable recognized the Solarian design on the rug on the floor. She’d thought she saw Roan and Serena in a dream, but it must have been real. She was home. Home. This was why the pain in her body murmured instead of shouted. Some said Solarian healers had magic in their fingers and could bring the dead to life. She believed every word. She tried to move her leg and the pain made her groan. Eirik’s eyes popped open. His beautiful blue orbs were bloodshot. Gods, he looks awful. “Sable.” He was on his feet in an instant. Leaning over her bed, he held his hand to her brow. His lips followed to touch her forehead. As he bent over her, Sable took in his scent. He smelled like one beautiful man. She smiled and nuzzled her cheek against his, planting a kiss at the corner of his mouth. He cried out and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. Raising her lips to his, he consumed her with one his mind-numbing kiss. He was so passionate, so hot, Sable felt as if her fever was returning. He released her and leaned his forehead against hers. “Thank the Gods,” he murmured, his voice thick. Wetness fell onto Sable’s cheek. He was crying for her. Surprise flooded through her. Her heart warmed with love for this strong man who wasn’t ashamed to cry. “How long have we been here?” she asked as he pulled his chair next to the bed. “We came to the Realm over five days ago. It has been seven days since you were shot.” She gasped. How could she lose so many days? “You were with fever. Your healer, Angus, is more skilled than any I’ve encountered. He cauterized and treated your wounds.”
Sable struggled to lean up. Eirik’s arm looped around her back. He helped prop her up on the bed, then returned to his chair. She tilted her head and studied him. He was so handsome; his blond hair was tied back behind the back of his neck, accenting his regal jaw line. Even tired and rimmed with red, his blue eyes were striking. Licking his full lips, he stared back into her eyes, as if he wanted to eat her up. He was made for her, she thought. And she wanted to keep him. But she needed to know his plans. Whether he was committed to a relationship between them. “What will you do now?” she asked. He frowned and pulled on his ear lobe. “What do you mean?” “Will you return to Iceland? Where are your men?” He propped his head in his hand and stared intently at her. “My men are in the process right now of moving my settlement to Norway.” His declaration didn’t surprise her. In light of his father’s death, his decision made sense. Sable was happy for his people. The situation in Iceland had become dire. If they had continued as they were, they would have surely died. Dropping her eyes, she plucked at the blanket, fearing the answer to her next question. She looked up. “When will you be joining them?” He studied her with a lazy wolf-watching-its-prey expression. He remained silent for a long moment. She tensed, waiting for his response. “I will not be joining my people, dýrr.” Sable furrowed her brow. “What?” she asked. Where was he to go then? Was there a chance for them? “I have asked Roan and Serena for permission to stay, which they have graciously granted.” Sable’s eyes met his. She saw the determination in his expression. She sucked in her breath. “I will remain here and teach the Solarians how to build ships. Some day I hope to be reunited with my mother and sister, but only to visit.” Sable released the breath; it whooshed out. He continued. “I will stay in the Realm, we will marry.” He pointed to her, then to himself. “And you will bear me many sons.” He flicked his finger back toward her. Sable crossed her arms best she could. Sitting back against the pillows, she tried to toughen her facial features but knew it wasn’t working. The happiness inside her kept wanting to bubble out. Looking pointedly at him, she tried another tact. He watched her, his expression fierce, as if he expected her to protest and was ready to fight. “Well.” She rolled her eyes, then looked straight into his. “That was quite a romantic proposal, Viking. Do you think you can order a Wolf Warrior about?” “Ruff,” Midnight said, as if agreeing with her. She smiled but Eirik pointed at her Wolf. “You keep quiet.” Midnight whined and flopped her head back down. “I think,” he rose and bent over her, “you are going to mind what I tell you, slave, or you will pay the consequences.”
His teasing words washed over her like a smoothing salve, healing her wounds and heating her heart. “You know… “ She smiled as he repositioned her, then laid down next to her on the bed. He spooned behind her, his erection apparent. Careful not to touch any of her injuries, he gently wrapped his arms around her. “If I am your wife, then how can I be your slave,” she asked. She felt the rumble of his chest as he laughed. He nuzzled the curve of her neck, kissing her, then he gently sucked. Sable’s heart kicked against her chest. She loved the feel of him surrounding her, his mouth touching her skin. There was nothing that could heal her better than feeling his love “It could be fun to be my slave at times. Remember the claiming ceremony?” Sable exhaled when he sucked a particular sensitive area of her neck. Just remembering that ceremony made her wet and aching to feel his cock slide into her. “Oh, yes, I remember.” She gasped when his hand slid around her body to cup her sex. He slowly thrust against her. “I love you, dýrr. Please consent to be my wife.” Sable’s heart filled with love. “I love you, Eirik. I will be your wife. Bear your children and occasionally,” she brushed her hand over the one holding her, “I will even be your slave.” He chuckled and hugged her against him. “What more could a Viking ask for,” he commented. “But, dýrr, I will tell you something once and never again. I’m the one who has become enslaved.” She smiled. His admission didn’t surprise her. She was, after all, a Wolf Warrior. The End About the Author: Rae Monet writes sensual historical paranormal romance novels and some contemporary for www.LiquidSilverBooks.com and www.Triskelionpublishing.com. If you like strong female characters, lots of action, and hot romance, then you'll enjoy her books. Please take some time to surf her website www.RaeMonet.com and join her world.
Meet LSB authors at http://lsbooks.net We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books http://lsbooks.com for other exciting literary erotica romances. Weekend Games—Chris Tanglen Destiny's Magick—Rae Morgan Love Lessons—Vanessa Hart Portal—Sydney Morgann Bittersweet—Louisa Trent Business or Pleasure…or Both?—Rae Morgan and Jasmine Haynes And many, many more!!
