by Selena Scott
“I didn't mean that.” The more I said, the more ridiculous I felt. But I couldn’t stop myself. “Just looking like that at someone, when you’re not their verr. It's not permitted, only between spouses.”
His sardonic stare refused to flinch, refused to apologize. Only mocked me and my conservative babbling.
“I'm not some common woman you can plunder with your eyes,” I snapped.
His smile was more like a snarl. Condescending but craving. And still he wouldn’t look away.
Rage spoked sharp wheels in me. I was shaking, I was breathing deeply. My hand was raising—to slap him. He grabbed it.
As I struggled to free myself, he laughed, kept his hold easily. “Don’t hurt yourself, princess.”
The gall!
It was a knee-jerk reaction, the kick that got him between the legs. But, was it ever a satisfying one—seeing him grunt, fall to his knees as his hands went to his groin.
Guilt tugged at me, but I ignored it, only smiled in self-satisfaction. Looks like he was still mortal after all.
Next thing I knew, he’d grabbed me by the arm and tugged me down too. We sprawled in a heap on the grass.
My heartbeat rammed hard in my chest. Here we were on the ground, just like in my dream...
I struggled to get away. He just flattened onto the grass, laughing a little, though his gaze never left me, only wandered down.
I followed it to see, horrified, that my hardened nipples were visible through my top.
He smirked. “You're a feisty one.”
I scrambled upright, ignoring the battling sensations in my body and head. All of me ached for him. To kick him in the face and slam my mouth against his. To show him just how feisty I was—to make him pay.
I got up and turned on my heel, storming off.
“That's it?” he called after me, closer behind me than I would have liked. He was fast, I'd give him that.
“Aye,” I said stiffly.
“No,” he growled.
Next second, his hand was around my neck.
He twisted my face to his, his eyes caught mine. I froze. Damn him. Those dark, demanding eyes, demanding one thing and one thing only.
His gaze wandered down to my lips. Then, he leaned in...
CHAPTER SEVEN – AARIC
Those lips, swollen with want for me, were ready. My cock was stiff in my pants. Aye, I would take the fire-headed wench. I would take her good and hard.
A smell wafted over to me—smoke. Fire.
I remembered. I was a Fireclaw. She was a Waterpaw.
I twisted away. “Forget it.”
I stormed off into the night, all of me raging.
The damned tease—the filthy whore! The way she had just been about to give in to me. The fire followed by the acquiescence. It drove me mad just thinking about it.
How feisty she’d be when my cock filled her. How her curves would bob and jiggle as I clasped her enormous breasts in my hands.
Fuck. I wanted her. But I wanted revenge more.
I couldn’t let myself get distracted, even if my cock was still stiff with the thought of her.
Impotent rage pumped through me, and I let it take over. Let it stab through my limbs, contort my body and skeletal structure until I was in my bear form, crashing top-speed through the darkness. The first tree my paws encountered, I clawed into and tore it out of the ground, tearing into it with my teeth. My claws smashed at it, bashing it. Splinters and more splinters, flying through the air, until it was just a pile of unsatisfied rage.
Damn the Waterpaws. Damn their tempting wenches.
I slammed my paws into the ground, ripping up handfuls of dirt.
Aye, this was what I required. Another outlet for my rage.
Minutes passed as seconds, and, when it was over, there was a sloping valley before me and piles of dirt, rock, and rubble all around. Then, I lay on my back, staring up at the sky.
It was something that Mother had taught my siblings and me, to calm us down when we were just kids, full of energy and quick to upset.
“Just look at the sky and its sea of constellations,” she had counseled us. “It will never leave you, will always stare back at you.”
She was right, too. Here it was, the same set of stars that I'd seen even as a child. Ursa Major, Aurvandil’s Toe… Orion.
When I got up, my rage had dissipated, but not my lust.
If only I could obliterate the image of her defiance crumbling as my lips neared hers…
My cock twitched.
Fuck it all.
Maybe that would be the final insult to the Waterpaws—making the Waterpaw princess my own.
Aye. I would enjoy taming her, training her to satisfy my will.
Maybe I didn't need to kill her at all. Maybe I just had to take what I needed from her and then, when her brother saw the truth of just what I’d taken from him, realization painting his fat, stupid face, we’d kill him.
CHAPTER EIGHT - DAHLIA
For Freya's sake!
Even as I hurried away, my whole body was still tensed with readiness for fight, flight, or… giving in.
Curse it, Aaric wasn’t about to follow me and grab me around the waist; he’d been the one who’d left in the first place.
My leather shoes dug into the ground in frustration as I hurried my pace.
Did he find it fun to mock the king's sister?
No, the hunger in Aaric's eyes had been real, I’d seen it myself.
Perhaps he recognized the peril inherent in any union we would have. Hildre would be furious, for one thing.
As far as union went, was I really deluding myself that Aaric wanted me for anything other than to satisfy pure animalistic desires?
My fingers found purchase in my woolen cloak and twisted. This want coiling in me, new and heated, frightened me. As a virgin, I knew nothing of pure passion. Yet, back there with Aaric, I’d been ready to succumb completely to it.
Curse it!
At least I was back at my tent now. Ingrid’s head poked out of the entrance. “You left the dinner in such a hurry.”
As I went inside, I avoided her inquisitive gaze, trying to come up with a convincing falsehood. It was hopeless. Ingrid knew me too well.
“It's those newcomers, isn't it?” she asked.
“Singular, not plural,” I corrected her, “The oldest—Aaric, he's...”
“Dark and threatening-looking?” Ingrid’s smile was knowing, her violet eyes twinkling. “You can't seriously be considering him when the youngest has the clearest, bluest eyes, like a cloudless day, and cheekbones as sharp as knives.”
I realized it as I said it: “You like him.”
Ingrid turned away, but not fast enough to obscure the anxious smile on her face. ““Lucky for us we like two different ones.”
“Perhaps,” I said.
As I sat down beside Ingrid, she sighed. “Oh, who are we kidding? It's bad Loki luck for both of us. Falling for newcomers with no status.”
I snuck a sidelong look at Ingrid, then just decided to be out with it. “Just now, Aaric and I talked in the brovin. We almost, he almost…”
Ingrid’s hand flew to her lips. “Dahlia. You have to be—”
“Careful, I know.”
Now, there was an oddly somber look on her face, as she said, “After you left, I heard something at the meal.”
“Oh?” I said.
“The berserkers are on the move.”
“No.” I sat down on the straw mattress, then rose again, “No. Why would they—”
Ingrid wouldn’t look at me, but I heard the fear in her voice anyway. “I've heard that their clan leader, Njal, seeks a wife.”
“But Hildre wouldn't,” I protested. “He was only...”
Ingrid’s hand flew to mine and squeezed it tightly. “We won't let that happen. Just make sure that you are extra well behaved, and do what Hildre says.”
I exhaled. “You know it's never that easy.”
“I know.” Ingrid squeezed m
y hand tighter. “But it has to be. You can't be rash now. Not when Hildre could very well hand you over to...”
Monsters.
Everyone had heard the stories. How the berserkers tore their foes to shreds and ate what was left. How they treated their wives—keeping them as half-alive mongrels trailing behind the band, unceasingly pregnant with cubs. How they forced the children to fight, only allowing the strongest to stay with the band.
I clasped Ingrid’s other hand. “I'll be careful, I promise.”
I'd have to be.
Any yet, I sensed that it wouldn't be as easy as that.
Not with how, when I was with Aaric, all logical thought vanished.
***
The next morning, I awoke early to visit Hildre. So early that I almost beat the sun up, only a stray few first shafts of light peering out at me over the horizon as I made the trek over to his tent.
The air was clear, the grass was dewy, and with some luck, I could talk my brother down from the rash threat he’d made.
As soon as I entered Hildre’s tent, our encounter didn’t start off promisingly. While I complimented him on the ceremony of the other night and the impressive batch of newcomers, my brother had no time for pleasantries, snapping, “What is it, Dahlia?”
I eyed him. His broad face was creased with annoyance already. “I heard the berserkers are on the move.”
“That is true.”
“You don't think...” I began.
My brother's eyes flashed. “That they'll stop by the greatest ruler in all the land to pay their respects? Maybe find a wife? I'm counting on it.”
His lips rose in a snarl, ready for combat.
I swallowed back my angry response. An enraged outburst was exactly what Hildre was expecting. And exactly what would drive him to follow through with his excessive threat.
Lines of strain from the past few months were etched on my brother’s face too, in the crow’s feet on either side of his wide-set eyes, an odd-placed chin wrinkle. Aye, he had been under a lot of stress lately—first his wife Helga’s death, then Father’s. And now, all the weight of ruling the flustered Waterpaws rested on my brother’s shoulders.
Aye, I needed to stay on his good side.
“What are your plans for when they do arrive here?” I asked.
Hildre scratched at his neck. Shrugged. “I'll see when the time comes. In the meantime, I suggest you start preparing your robes for the upcoming dance.”
“There's a dance?” I said, surprised.
Hildre disliked planning clan events, dances included.
“Of course. It's tradition.” Hildre’s face flushed a mottled red. “Did you really think I would allow the newcomers’ arrival to go by without any ceremony? Fifty new shifters added to our numbers and I would just let it go by, uncelebrated?”
“Of course not,” I said. “I merely thought—”
But Hildre had already risen and set out of the tent at a pace that invited no following. He paused. “As I said before, you and Ingrid should start preparing yourselves so you are comely for the dance. Several of our noble cousins have agreed to come, as well as Bo and the others. Perhaps they may give you another chance.”
And then he left, with his disdain-dripping words echoing in my head, their meaning unmistakable. If I truly wanted to save myself from the berserkers, I had to betroth myself to one of the men at the dance instead.
I left the tent in a daze, my feet wandering without my mind much clueing in to where or why.
After a few minutes, a light breeze wafted a salty scent into my nostrils. The springs.
Right now it was just an unoccupied blue swath on the horizon that looked all mine for the taking. Aye, most Waterpaws preferred their dunks later in the day.
Good. Right now I needed some time to think.
By the time I reached the springs’ edge, my skin was tingling with excitement. I crouched on the smooth graystone they were set into, dipped a finger into the crystalline waters, and exhaled. The temperature was perfect—hot, but not too hot. While the consistency of the water itself—it was so clean you could smell it.
A rueful grin came over my face. Well, even Hildre would approve of this. One of the few things we had in common was our enjoyment of cleanliness. These waters would make me the cleanest and most comely I'd been in months.
I took a long, sweeping look around, keeping my eyes peeled for any movement.
Would it be too risky to...?
But there was no one. It was just me and the crystalline springs and the cool kiss of the slight breeze...
I disrobed, settling my clothes behind me, then sat down and dipped my feet in.
Oh!
Hot—much too hot.
So, I proceeded slowly, dipping the tips of my toes in and, when my body adjusted to that, sinking more of my toes in, then more. Until finally the water covered up to the top of my breasts and I leaned back onto the stone, letting my head loll back.
Aye, this was just what I needed.
The heat coating every one of my limbs. So pleasurable that it almost seemed unseemly, and yet... how could anything that felt this good be wrong in the eyes of Odin?
My eyes fluttered shut, and my mind slumbered. All was well. All was good. All—
Crunch.
My eyes snapped open at the sound. My jaw dropped at the sight.
Aaric.
He was standing at the far edge of the hot springs. Looking at the top swells of my… breasts.
I dipped myself further under the water. “You.”
Never shifting his gaze, he advanced into the water until he was standing before me. Then, he stripped off his shirt, then his trousers. I could only watch with mounting stupefaction.
I should leave. Cry out. Run for it. Anything.
And yet, my limbs wouldn't budge. Nothing would. I could only just sit there, as my eyes greedily beheld the godlike body of the man before me.
His chest was a muscled glory raked by scars, some older, some newer, his shoulders impossibly wide. Even his hands looked made to kill. Further down his torso, his pillar was… thick beyond belief.
I averted my eyes and a chuckle spilled out of him. “Come here.”
It wasn't a question.
“No,” I said, my voice hoarse.
I couldn’t move—couldn’t leave or stay, defy or obey. I was stuck between choices.
Didn't he know what he was risking with this?
“Don't pretend you don't feel it,” he said. “What's between us.”
“We can't.” If I didn’t look at him, I could do this. I could stay sitting here and not give in to what was pounding in me, harried and inescapable. “You know we can't.”
But the next thing I knew, powerful hands were lifting me up to standing, cupping the back of my head, bringing my face to his.
His lips took mine.
CHAPTER NINE – AARIC
Aye, a taste like honey, a body like bread. Ample with soft curves that were even better to touch.
A far-off bird call—an unfamiliar breed I didn’t recognize—pierced the air.
“That's Ingrid's and my call,” Dahlia hissed, pulling away. “A warning.”
My gaze snapped to the horizon. There, a couple of small, man-shaped forms were growing bigger. Although right now, with the rocks nearby, Dahlia and I would appear to them as mistakes on the landscape, but not for much longer.
Grabbing my clothes, I looked to see her halfway in hers, racing away.
I hurried off in the opposite direction, stopping only when I reached an upjutting rock to conceal myself behind. I shook out my clothes and pulled them on. My bulging erection strained against my trousers.
I peered out from my rock hiding place. The men, whoever they were, were headed elsewhere. I was safe, but in no way satisfied. Not until I had Dahlia would I be.
I took my cock out.
Damn the woman! For it to be so hot and so very unfinished…
As her luscious curves flooded
my mind, my hands glided down the length of my cock.
Aye, breasts so massive you could lose yourself in them, hips and thighs so perfectly juicy for sinking your teeth into, grasping and smacking around.
And as I enjoyed her, her pleasure would be nothing compared to how she’d mewl when I got a few fingers into her drenched thatch. And that, too, would be nothing compared to the screams she’d let out when I stabbed myself into her.
I could see it now: us rolling together, fucking fast and hard and right. Her ample curves pressing and bouncing against me with every one of my thrusts.
Aye. Fuck. It would be so good. So damn yes. When I blasted her with my seed, she would scream for more. Scream for me.
As my cock spilled my seed onto the ground, a pent-up groan fell out of me. I sank back onto the grass and sat there, feeling less satiated then when I’d started.
No, one thing and one thing only would satiate my need: my cock buried deep in Dahlia Waterpaw.
***
When I returned to our tent, my brothers were arguing.
Chuld had his half-bare arms crossed over his chest, speaking through a sliver of scowling lips. “And I'm only saying that they're not as horrible as I expected.”
“Idiot.” Grise was hacking at some stag meat with more force than was needed, sending a spray of blood in all directions. “Of course the Waterpaws are decent to each other. It's their enemies that they’re brutal assholes to. Do I have to remind you how many massacres Skarde instigated to get into power?”
“As is true of any great Viking warrior,” Chuld grumbled, half to himself, seeing me arrive.
“That may be so,” I replied, “But no other Viking ruler killed our parents and sister in cold blood.” I regarded Chuld with hard eyes. “You may have been too young to remember, brother, but not all of us have that luxury. Some of us remember exactly what the Waterpaw clan did to this family.”
With that, I left, taking Kackla for a walk. He was a wanderer, just like we were, and hadn’t liked the unusually slow change of pace and staying put since we’d been accepted into the Waterpaws.
