Sword of Vengeance: A Medieval Viking Historical Romance (Warrior's Claim Book 2)

by Avery Maitland

“Tell no one of this,” Bersi commanded. “Swear it.”

  Varin paused, but then lifted his cup and drained it. He set the empty horn down beside Bersi’s and nodded. “I swear it. On Idunn’s golden hair.”

  “Good. See that it is done. Gather your men and be ready.”

  Varin braced his forearm on the table and looked at Bersi expectantly. “For what?”

  “Rebellion.”

  Bersi ducked as another piece of broken furniture flew in his direction.

  A wooden chair splintered under Torunn’s axe. The third one.

  “I will never marry that old goat!” she screamed. “How dare they do this to me!”

  Her axe slammed down against the table.

  Heldi watched from the kitchen doorway and Bersi glanced at her quickly. She shook her head and disappeared from view and Bersi straightened his shoulders.

  “You have to be calm—”

  Torunn whirled on him sharply and raised her axe. “Calm! You want me to be calm! After everything we have learned!”

  “You must be,” Bersi said evenly as she advanced on him.

  “I will tell them,” she said. “I will tell everyone at the feast tonight. I will—”

  Bersi reached out to pull the axe from her hand and she only resisted for a moment before she released her grip on it and fell against his chest.

  He dropped the axe to the floor and pulled her to him. Torunn’s body shuddered as he wrapped his arms around her.

  There was nothing he could say. Nothing she would want to hear.

  “My father,” she choked out. “He was everything they said he was. I could not believe it…”

  She looked up at him and he was stunned to see that her cheeks were wet with tears.

  “Torunn—”

  “When I go to Valhalla, he will not be there to greet me. How— What am I supposed to—”

  Bersi could hold himself back no longer. Seeing Torunn suffer in this way sent a bolt of pain searing through his chest as though Thor himself had struck him with his mighty hammer. He bent his head and kissed her, gently at first, and then as hard as he dared. Her mouth opened under his and her fingers dug into his shoulders as she clung to him.

  He could taste the salt of her tears, and he wanted nothing more than to take away all of her hurt and anguish, but he did not know how.

  She pulled away from him, breaking their kiss, and her eyes were wide and dark as she looked up at him. He released his hold on her gently and half-expected her to strike him or shout at him for taking liberties he should not have.

  But she did not shout at him, and she did not strike him.

  Her fingers curled around the neck of his tunic and she pulled him forward. He followed her, as obedient as any dog, as she kicked aside the splintered furniture and led him toward her chamber.

  He could feel Heldi watching them from the kitchen doorway, but he did not turn to look at her. Torunn pushed him into her chamber and kicked the door closed.

  Bersi stood near the bed, awkwardly, though he had been in her chamber hundreds of times, and seen her in every state of undress, now seemed different.

  Torunn pulled her tunic over her head and threw it to the floor. Her eyes never left his as she untied her breeches and pushed them down her long legs.

  “What—”

  “You are wearing too many clothes.” Torunn stepped out of her breeches and stood before him with her hair tumbled down over her shoulders, wearing nothing but her leather boots. He stood still as she reached for the edge of his tunic. Her hands pushed beneath it and ran up over his chest as he struggled to pull it up over his head.

  His heart pounded against his ribs as Torunn smiled faintly and pressed her mouth against his collarbone. Her hands trailed down his torso and her fingers tugged at the ties of his breeches.

  Bersi’s thoughts were muddled and confused. He wanted her, more than anything he wanted her. But this was not the right time—she was upset and heartbroken…

  “I do not want to think about anything,” she whispered. “It is too much.”

  She pushed Bersi’s breeches down and her fingers brushed over his stomach before she rubbed her palm against the side of his steadily hardening cock.

  “Please,” she murmured.

  With a growl, Bersi stepped away from his breeches and pulled Torunn against his chest even as she reached for him. Her hands tangled in his hair as he fell back against the edge of the bed. There was no pause, no hesitation, and Torunn’s breath came hard and fast as she straddled him.

  Bersi’s hands were hard on her hips as she lowered herself down on his cock. He closed his eyes as her slick heat enveloped him and bit back a groan as her muscled thighs tightened against his hips.

  “Look at me,” she whispered.

  He did as she commanded and met her burning gaze boldly.

  “Make me forget.”

  Bersi reached up and pushed his hands into Torunn’s thick dark hair as he kissed her, hard and demanding, even as she began to move her hips. It was exquisite torture to be used by her, but it was not enough. He wanted to possess her. If she wanted to forget, he would give her something else to remember in its place.

  He allowed her a few more strokes, long and languid, as she rose up and down on his cock before his hands rubbed down over her back and then he wrapped his arms around her torso and thrust hard into her.

  She cried out at the sudden strength of his movements, and then let out a small gasp of surprise as he stood. He held her tightly, his cock buried deep inside her as he turned toward the bed.

  It took every ounce of his strength to resist driving her back against the wall of her chamber to fuck her hard and fast.

  He bore her down to the bed and Torunn let out a breathless laugh as her back struck the furs. “What—”

  “Shut your mouth,” he growled as he thrust into her again. Torunn let out an obedient moan of pleasure that became a disappointed note as he withdrew his cock from her sweet depths.

  Having Torunn beneath him was all that Bersi had thought about for countless days and nights. Their heated moments in the woolshed had played over and over in his mind and he cursed himself for it. She had teased and tormented him for too long, and now it was his turn.

  He grabbed her breast roughly, eliciting another gasp as he pinched and plucked at the nipple before lowering his head to suckle it into his mouth. Torunn clutched at his head as he nipped at her tender flesh, drawing it to a hard peak between his teeth.

  Torunn’s breathing was fast and short, and he could feel her pulse, hard and strong beneath his hand, as he reached up for her throat.

  He tightened his fingers briefly, making her gasp aloud, and then released her as he pulled his other hand down between her breasts and over her belly, down to the sweet haven between her thighs.

  She sighed as he pushed her thighs apart and gripped them tightly, exposing her slick flesh to him.

  “I have dreamed of this moment—” He stopped abruptly and felt foolish for saying anything. He was here to follow her commands, not have his own thoughts and desires. But the feel of her hand in his hair as she reached down to urge him forward made all of that disappear.

  With a groan, he buried his face between Torunn’s thighs and gloried in the sharp cry that was torn from her throat as he devoured her sweetness. She writhed beneath him and he held her down with strong hands, licking, teasing, sucking, everything he had fantasized about doing to her as she was trapped beneath him.

  He sucked at the hard bead of her pleasure and thrust one of his fingers inside her slick entrance, teasing at first, and then harder and faster as she moaned and twisted her hands in his hair to hold him against her.

  She tried to move her hips to encourage him, but he pinned her down and drove two fingers deep inside her, stroking fast and deep as she cried out.

  Torunn’s breath caught, and whispered his name, desperately, and he felt a new rush of wetness soak his fingers. Her body quaked as he tasted her relea
se on his tongue and his cock throbbed for her.

  “Please,” she begged, “please… I want—”

  He did not give her time to ask.

  As she had done to him, Bersi reached up and forced his fingers into her mouth to make her taste her own wetness. She let out a small noise of surprise, and then moaned and sucked hard on his fingers as he positioned himself between her thighs and pressed the thick head of his cock against her heated core.

  He leaned down to kiss her and her mouth opened under his as he moved his hips forward to claim his prize. She cried out against his mouth as he sank his cock into her and he paused briefly as her body stretched to welcome him.

  She was perfect. Fit to sit among the Aesir. He was not worthy of this kind of pleasure, but he would take it until the gods struck him down for his insolence.

  He braced his hands behind her knees and thrust into her, deep and hard as she cried out and grabbed for his waist. Her nails dug into his flesh as he moved, and she pulled him deeper and urged him harder with her cries.

  He could not stop to think about what he was doing, or how he felt, he only cared about what Torunn needed. And right now, she needed him.

  Bersi gritted his teeth and focused on Torunn. The way her chest heaved and her breasts moved with the force of his thrusts. The way her stomach hollowed as she gasped for breath. And the darkness of her eyes as she stared at him and consumed his soul with her gaze. He would have nothing left to give to Valhalla when she was done with him, and he would die a happy man.

  His climax was building, and he willed himself to hold back, but the moment he tried to slow his strokes, Torunn’s fingernails bit deeper into his back and she rose up to claim his mouth in a searing kiss.

  “Harder,” she whispered.

  “Torunn— I—”

  “So close,” she gasped.

  Her hand slid between them as his cock pounded into her and she let out a low moan as her fingers stroked and teased against the center of her pleasure. Bersi closed his eyes, unable to look at her and know that she was pleasuring herself as he fucked her… it was too much to bear, and his climax gripped him tightly, daring him to slow down.

  He tried desperately to keep himself back from the edge, but Torunn’s body shuddered and her mouth pressed hard against his shoulder. She cried out as she bit down with sharp teeth and every muscle clenched as her climax rippled through her.

  Bersi thrust as deeply as he dared as Torunn clung to him, but when his own climax threatened to overtake him, he pulled away, and withdrew from her slick heat.

  Torunn let out a cry of dismay, but Bersi buried his face between her thighs once more, and pulled one of her legs over his shoulder as he delved deeply into her soaking cleft. He licked and sucked at her sweetness as his body tightened and he spilled his seed on the furs at the edge of Torunn’s bed.

  She writhed beneath him, and cried out in surprise as his tongue coaxed another climax from her exhausted body.

  She lay there shivering as he lifted his head from between her thighs to look at her. Torunn lay back on the bed and her body twitched with release as she struggled to regain control of her breathing.

  Bersi sank down to the floor and leaned back against the bed. He ran a hand through his hair and cursed himself for every desire he had ever had for the woman who lay on the bed behind him. He wanted to be with her every day—not as her slave, but as her equal. But such a thing was impossible.

  “Why did you pull away,” Torunn asked suddenly.

  Bersi flinched but did not turn to look at her. He could see her in his mind, perfectly, and he could not bear the thought of looking at her now.

  “I could not,” he said. “If you were to become pregnant—”

  Torunn’s soft laughter cut his words short.

  “I am the sister of the Jarl,” she said. She moved on the bed and draped her arms over his shoulders. Her head pressed against his and she raked her fingernails over his skin.

  “And about to be married to another,” Bersi said.

  “And what does that mean?” Torunn snapped.

  “That not everything could be explained away,” he said. “Torunn… I cannot let you—”

  “Cannot let me what?”

  She sat up and pushed her foot into his back, making him lurch forward. He spun around and crouched in front of her, his knees on the furs that had been placed on the floor.

  She wanted him to say it. Wanted him to speak his feelings aloud.

  But he could not bring himself to do it.

  Torunn’s eyes burned with fury and something else he could not place. It was not shame. She would never feel shame for taking what she wanted, just as he could not.

  A fist pounded against the wooden door of Torunn’s chamber. “Mistress. You must prepare for the feast—the Jarl has sent word!”

  Heldi’s voice was muffled, but Bersi could hear the sharpness in her words. She had waited just long enough to make her demands.

  Torunn groaned and fell face-first onto the blankets.

  “Torunn?”

  Heldi knocked again. Harder this time.

  Torunn lifted her head and glared at Bersi. “Get dressed. I will need a bath if I am supposed to sit at a table beside those dogs.”

  He was a servant again. A slave to do her bidding.

  “Yes, mistress,” he said.

  Her jaw tightened and Bersi wondered what she was thinking.

  Bersi grabbed for his breeches and stood up slowly. He kept his eyes on her as he pulled them up over his thighs and secured the ties at his waist.

  She rested her chin on her crossed arms and watched him dress.

  “You should take a bath, too,” she said with a sly smile.

  “As you say.”

  Bersi pulled his tunic over his head and turned toward the door. He could not be bothered to dress himself properly. Heldi, and every other servant in the house, would know what had happened—there was no use hiding it.

  “I will tell my brothers what I know,” Torunn said firmly.

  Bersi paused, his hand on the iron latch, and turned to look at her. She stared straight ahead and did not meet his gaze. He could see determination in every line of her body.

  “Tonight. If they think that they can control me, they are going to regret it.”

  There was nothing he could say. All he could do was hope that Varin had been successful in gathering his men. With a force behind her, it might work—but the odds were against them, and the desperate worry that clawed at his mind would not be pushed away.

  For better or worse, Torunn would do what she felt was right. And all Bersi could do was try to protect her.

  Chapter 10 ~ Bersi

  Bersi avoided Heldi’s glare as best he could when he stepped into the main room of the house. The other servants laughed and whispered as he passed, but he did not care. It was normal—expected—for a man to bed his slaves, why could Torunn not do as she chose?

  Perhaps it was because he was not really a slave… he was dangerous. He’d heard the others talk behind his back. A rebel cannot be reformed. A rebel cannot be tamed.

  That was true, and in his first months of bondage he had made plans to escape; to kill whomever might have stood in his way, even Torunn. But now…

  Things were different now.

  “Mistress has called for a bath,” Bersi said as he passed the other servants. The women exchanged knowing glances and laughed together before they disappeared into the courtyard to fetch water to fill the large washtub that Torunn spent so much time in.

  There was wood stacked against the outside of the house, but it was not enough. He secured his belt around his hips and pulled his cloak around his shoulders. More time had passed than he had expected, and the sun had risen over the village. Noise and movement were all around him as the people of Skaro went about their business—they had no concept of what lay before them. Only vague ideas of what they would do that day, or what would be prepared for their evening meal.

>   In the morning, Torunn and Jarl Sigurd would be married, but he noticed again that there were no preparations being made. Such an event should have turned the entire village toward a flurry of celebrations, sacrifices, and merriment. But, instead, it seemed like any other market day.

  He secured a small axe to his hip and walked swiftly through the streets toward the sheds where the firewood that had been split for the use of the village was kept. Men and women nodded to him as he passed, but no one stopped him to talk or exchange pleasantries. The air in the village felt strange, as though there was a tension in the air.

  The fight between the warriors the night before had left three men dead, and he did not know when their funerals would be held. A breathless silence held Skaro captive—as though no one knew what to expect, or what new horror or tragedy would come next.

  Hardly the atmosphere that should have surrounded the wedding of the Jarl’s sister.

  Just in front of the great hall, Jarl Sigurd’s men lounged in the sun. It was still early, but cups of mead were being drunk, and servants passed among them with jugs to refill their empty cups.

  They jostled each other and laughed together, but there was something sinister and hollow about all of it. Bersi could smell it in the air and see it in their glances.

  Some of Jarl Hallvard’s men, the younger ones, eager to prove themselves, mixed with Jarl Sigurd’s men. He wondered how many of them would break with Hallvard and return to Bitra with Sigurd. It was possible. Jarl Sigurd was a strong leader, and a wealthy man who had uncountable successful raids to his name—a name that was feared not just among their own people, but across the seas as well.

  Hallvard had nothing but his bravado and his father’s legacy behind him. But that legacy had been tainted in an irreparable way, and all of Skaro would suffer for it.

  The secret Torunn carried would shame all of them… it was no wonder that Hallvard kept it so jealously protected. Secrets were dangerous at the best of times, but this one would rip away every shred of Hallvard’s legitimacy and leave Skaro vulnerable.

  Unless Torunn could take his place.

  The thought struck him suddenly.