Enslaved by a Viking

by Delilah Devlin

  Perhaps he deserved this fate. Maybe Odin himself had set this task before him to make him a better man, a better leader. He certainly hoped he’d get the chance to prove that fact.

  Livia strode toward the large, sumptuous bed, her lithe body swaying, a slight twitch to her firm ass. An unmistakable invitation.

  Without waiting to be given leave to do so, she sat on the edge of the wine-colored coverlet and smoothed her hands over the cloth. Her cosmetics-enhanced complexion glowed with the blood surging throughout her body. Her nipples poked at the front of her white cotton blouse. Her gaze swept over Eirik, and she gave him a hungry look, but he withheld a reaction.

  Undeterred, her look flitted to the whore-mistress. “Aliyah,” she said, stroking the silk, “you must tell me where you shop. This is so soft it’s sinful.”

  Aliyah smiled. “Only the best for my Zarah.” She hovered near the Falcon, a hand floating over the edge of one of Zarah’s tightly furled wings.

  Despite the tension evident in her wings, Zarah’s expression remained set in a calm mask, although Eirik thought he detected a slight lifting of her lip.

  “Darling,” Aliyah said, stroking her feathers, “you can disrobe.”

  “I’ll undress her,” Eirik said, straightening from the door. “Are you staying, mistress?”

  Aliyah looked tempted, but darted a glance to Livia, whose eyebrow arched. She demurred with a soft laugh. “I have others to attend. It’s a busy night. I’ll leave you all to play.”

  Eirik bowed as she passed. Her hand touched his shoulder, sharp fingernails digging into the skin. Leaning close, she said, “Don’t disappoint. Play well and your share will be generous.”

  He gave her a nod, silently cursing the bitch, but kept his face clear of all emotion when he walked to Zarah, whose wide, unblinking eyes locked with his.

  Keeping Livia in his line of sight, he angled Zarah so that the

  Helio woman could see what he did, but his face would be turned away.

  He attacked the knot between Zarah’s breasts. “I am new,” he murmured quietly, pretending to fumble with the tie.

  “I had heard Vikings have joined us,” she said, her tone even.

  “We were captured on our home world.”

  “I am sorry,” she whispered. “I know what it is to be far from home.”

  He dropped his voice again while he pretended to nuzzle her neck. “A wily bounty hunter, a former thrall, from here I believe, captured us. You might know her.” He pulled back to watch her face.

  Her eyes betrayed nothing, not even a gleam of curiosity, but her breaths deepened, lifting her chest against his fingers.

  “Don’t you want to know her name?” he asked softly, dropping his hand from the knot.

  She gave a quick, curt nod.

  “Her name is Fatin.”

  Had he not been standing so near, he never would have detected the lightning-quick catch of her breath. He moved closer and bent to her ear. “She says she has a sister here. Is it you?” He slid his hand beneath her chin to cup it and raise her face.

  “Are you here seeking revenge?” she whispered.

  Eirik shook his head. “Not against you. You had no part in my capture. I hold no grudge against you.”

  The first glimmer of deep emotion was there in her golden depths. A welling of tears.

  He bent and kissed her mouth. Just a soft, innocent touch. “She swears she works to free you,” he said against her lips.

  A deep, ragged breath rattled through her chest, and her wings snapped outward, and then closed around them both, heavenly soft feathers and wispy down surrounding them. Their movement soothed over his skin in the softest caress. Her head fell against his chest, and her arms slid around his waist.

  Inside the blind she’d provided, he held her close, petting her back, her shoulders, as she fought to even her breathing.

  When at last she raised her head, a radiant smile stretched across her face, and in spite of his vow, his sex stirred.

  A snapping of a twig sounded from outside the window, and he glanced up. At one side of the casing, out of sight of Livia, he glimpsed Fatin’s face. Silvered by moonlight, her skin was pale, her eyes glittering. Only the thinning of her full mouth gave a hint that it wasn’t sorrow but anger that filled her eyes.

  Sweet Fatin, what are you doing here? He gave her a narrowed glare, tilted his head for her to leave, but she shook hers, glaring daggers back at him.

  He couldn’t tell Zarah that her sister was near. Not and have a hope that he could keep Fatin’s presence a secret from Livia as well. He kissed Zarah’s forehead. “We still have a game to play,” he murmured.

  Her hand sought his, and then her wings flared outward and settled gracefully behind her.

  Livia’s breath sighed. “Gorgeous!” she said, clapping her hands. “I knew you two would be beautiful together. Now, come join me.”

  Zarah gave him a shy smile, angling her head to gaze from beneath her eyelashes.

  He nearly moaned aloud. The invitation was there. But Fatin’s presence put a damper on his ardor. How would he counter it and make sure that his cock sought mooring in only Livia’s body?

  At the bed, he held Zarah’s hand while she knelt on the mattress. Then he stood back and slowly folded his arms over his chest. When both women glanced up, he set his features into a mask of displeasure. “Wenches!”

  Livia giggled. “Oh, my!”

  “Turn me back fer a second,” he said, scowling and exaggerating a pirate’s brogue, “and both ye wee harlots are lazin’ about me bed!”

  Zarah’s mouth twitched. Her eyes danced with delight.

  The sight of that slight smile infused him with happiness because he didn’t think she did it much.

  Livia giggled again. “We only seek to warm our bodies. We await your pleasure, sir pirate.”

  “Ah.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “I work hard for me wee pot o’ ore. But never let it be said I’m not a generous man. I’ll not intrude on yer little tryst.”

  Zarah’s eyebrows shot up, and she stared from him to Livia’s delighted face.

  Keeping his features stern, he backed up to the windowsill and sat, blocking Fatin’s view of the room. “Shouldn’t have to tell ye twice.”

  Livia gave him a wink, then turned to Zarah and finished opening the knot he’d wrestled with.

  He let out an exaggerated groan at the sight of her perfect breasts, and then leaned back. “Fatin,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

  “I needed to see her.” Fatin’s voice was small, but sullen. Her sharp gaze, when he glanced her way, could have flayed a man’s skin.

  “I’m assuming you snuck past the guards?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’ll have to share with me how you managed that,” he muttered.

  “They aren’t watching me that closely.” Her fingers touched his arm, hesitantly. “Eirik?”

  To cool his anger, he drew in a deep breath. She’d taken a horrible chance with her own safety. “Yes, Fatin?”

  “Are you going to fuck her?”

  Although surly, her voice held a breathless note. At the telling revelation, he sighed. “I’ll do my best to avoid it.”

  Her fingers cupped his elbow, and then drew away. “Will you pass her a message?”

  “What would you have me say?”

  “That I love her.” She paused, then let out a sigh. “And I will come for her.”

  He gave a short nod. “You’d best disappear before you’re caught.”

  “I thought you liked being watched.”

  That bitter note made him shift his seat. He leaned closer, bending his head toward hers while he kept the two women stroking each other’s skin in sight. “Neither of us is comfortable with this, Fatin. Spare yourself.”

  Her hand snuck inside his. Small and warm. Fingertips rougher than those of the pampered women on the bed.

  His throa
t tightened and he gave them a squeeze. “Go.”

  “Be gentle with her,” Fatin said, an echo of pleading in her voice. “She’s not . . . like me.”

  When he turned his head, she was gone. What had she meant? Not like me? Because one was a bird and one was not? Or because one was an innocent, despite her profession, and Fatin was very far from innocent?

  “Sir piiraaate . . .”

  The trill of Livia’s voice set his teeth on edge, but he pasted on a smile and pushed away from the windowsill. Time enough later to discover the truth about sweet Fatin. Two naked women with lust in their eyes waited to dance.

  Fatin climbed the wall again, dropped to the ground, and sped into the woods, her mind filled with images—her sister’s lovely, sad face forced into a smile while she played with the nipples of the Helio whore; Eirik in pirate’s garb, compassion gleaming in his eyes—for her, Fatin. But what did it mean? Fatin wasn’t very smart reading others’ emotions. She’d done her best to sublimate her own for years, to avoid reading pity or lust in another’s eyes. She wished now that she hadn’t been so studiously oblivious.

  Something in his expression after he’d scolded her for being there had been different. Had made her feel warm and protected. Best not to read too much into it or she’d drive herself mad with regrets.

  As she approached the men’s salon, she heard the stomp of booted feet on the pathway between her and the men’s quarters.

  Dammit, she couldn’t hide in here. If one of the guards looked her way, he might spot her with his night-vision visor. And if she appeared to be hiding, she didn’t know how she’d explain herself. Better to brazen it out. She took a deep breath and stepped out onto the path.

  A thickset guard halted in front of her. His helmeted head angled downward to scan her body. “You shouldn’t be out here, bounty hunter.”

  His angry drawl set her teeth on edge. “I was given freedom of the grounds.”

  “It’s dark,” he said, his voice edging toward a growl. “I might have mistaken you for a thrall trying to make a run for it. I might have poked you with my spear.”

  She forced a laugh, but it was high-pitched, tightened by nerves. “And where would a thrall go?”

  His head turned, peering through his visor into the woods beyond her. “You alone?”

  The way he said those two words sent cold skating down her spine. “There’s no one with me. I wanted fresh air. The salon stinks of sweat and sex.”

  “Something you should be used to.” The deepened rumble held an ugly note.

  She shivered and gave him a thin smile. “I’ll head back inside. Thanks for your concern.”

  A hand grabbed her arm, fingers digging deep. “Not so fast.”

  She stilled, her mind racing as his hand swept up, then slipped across to cup her breast. His thick fingers pinched her hard.

  Knowing that running would only fan his arousal, Fatin stood her ground and tried to push away his hand. “You shouldn’t risk Aliyah’s anger. She doesn’t like the staff mingling with the guests.”

  He cupped her again. “You’re not exactly a guest, now, are you? And you wouldn’t want the mistress to know you were sneaking around outside.”

  Her stomach plummeted. “You’re paid to patrol, not to molest visitors.”

  “We’ll just have to be quick, then. Into the woods with you. There’s no surveillance here.” A chuckle sounded. “No one will bother us.”

  His hand tightened, then slipped to her arm. He pushed her backward. Then he reached for the button on the side of his visor. A glimmer of light shone behind the dark mirrored surface, and then blinked out.

  He’d turned off the visor and the feed to the surveillance team. They were truly alone now. A knot grabbed her stomach. She shook off his hand. “The ground’s uneven. I’d rather walk under my own steam than have us both trip.” She turned to lead the way as his hand slid from her arm.

  “I haven’t seen your face,” she said, keeping her voice lazy and sultry. “I might be more amenable to play if you’d take off that visor.”

  “My face isn’t what’s going to fuck you.”

  She forced herself not to react while sheer terror shuddered through her. “Still, I might want a kiss. Something to get me warmed up. Sliding into a dry hole won’t be so pleasant for you.” She stopped beside a large tree with a low, horizontal branch. With a wiggle, she sat atop the limb and pulled down the top of her peasant’s blouse, baring her breasts.

  His helmeted head dipped, his hands reached for her, but she batted them away. “The visor. I’d like a kiss, here.” Then she cupped her breast and plucked the nipple, drawing it to a point and releasing it.

  He reached up and unstrapped the helmet, sliding it off his head. His face was brutish, his nose askew. His eyes were small and piglike. His smile was a lecherous stretch of thin lips. Two gold teeth sparkled.

  In a flash, he dropped the helmet and reached for her again, hands twisting her breasts, his body trapping her thighs against the thick branch beneath her.

  Wincing as he managed to find every bruised rib, she snuggled closer, sliding her hands along his sides, up and then down, as he rutted his cock between her legs.

  Swallowing bile, she stroked him again and touched the leather of his holster. She quickly tugged the snap and pulled his stun gun free.

  When she stuck it in his side, he froze. “Bitch!”

  “Fucker!”

  His arms closed around her back to hug her hard. Did he think she’d care whether she shared the blast? Better that than to suffer his rape.

  She pulled the trigger, then felt the painful jolt arc through her body. Her jaw snapped; her muscles went rigid.

  He stiffened like a board, body jerking, but then slid down her body, crumpling at her feet.

  Still quivering in the aftermath, she forced her body into action. With a jerky move, she tugged up her blouse, bent and scooped up the helmet, then bolted from the woods, hoping he’d be too afraid of admitting just how he’d been overcome to report the incident and the loss.

  Slipping through the door of the salon, she hid the helmet beneath the draping of one of the buffet tables, straightened her stretched bodice again, and walked back into the center of the room. Away from any door where she might be snatched without being noticed.

  The salon was nearly empty. The few Vikings who hadn’t elected to retire to the private chambers were eagerly bouncing women on their laps or swallowing breasts.

  Her lips curled in disgust. Were all men pigs?

  “How does a wench as comely as yerself manage to be alone?”

  A gasp escaped. She spun to find one of the younger Vikings, one whose name escaped her, standing right behind her.

  Dressed in pirate’s garb, he touched his cocked eyebrow and executed a short bow.

  She jutted her chin. “This wench has more particular tastes.”

  His arm snaked out and wrapped around her ribs.

  “Yii.” She cried out, hissing between clenched teeth.

  In an instant, he dropped his arm, a frown bisecting his brows. “Not that I blame the man, but I’ve never harmed a woman. I won’t start with you.”

  Surprised at his even tone, she studied him. Brown-haired with gray eyes. Barely out of his teens. A pang of guilt struck her. What had she been thinking to take one so young? “Thank you,” she mumbled, and made to move around him.

  But he stepped to the side, blocking her path, gaze narrow and scathing. “Eirik said to watch for you.” By his tone, he was anything but happy with the duty. “To make sure you weren’t harmed.”

  “And you’d follow his orders, despite the anger I see in you? Why?”

  “Because we’ve chosen him to be our leader.”

  She nodded, wishing he’d move away. She didn’t need this young man hovering. “How have you managed to be unclaimed by the women here?”

  With a quirk of an eyebrow, he gave a thin-lipped smile. “I stayed a long time in the latrine. The woman who requ
ested me finally grew tired of waiting, and is now with Garm.”

  Fatin relented. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have him close. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.”

  “I am Kaun. Do you even remember my capture?” His lips twisted. “You stole me from my bed, and you don’t remember?”

  Her throat grew dry and she shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m from the southern continent. Not a Wolfskin or a Bearshirt.” His shoulders squared. “I am a Drake, a Dragon. You took only me.”

  “A Drah-keh.” She drew a deep breath. His capture had been a challenge. She’d very nearly been caught herself. “I remember. I didn’t stay long. Security was tight. As soon as I transported to your hamlet, I was chased. I hid in your chamber, but it was dark.”

  “I thought you were Lina, come to join me in bed,” he said angrily.

  “Your girl?”

  “My wife,” he bit out. A tic twitched in his jaw.

  Her gaze dropped away from his stone-cold glare. He’d welcomed her, flipping back the covers in the darkness. Because he’d been an easy target of opportunity, she’d taken him in seconds, glad to be away from the remote southern kingdom. “You protect me, even though I ripped you away from your family? I swear I tried to take only single men.”

  “Three of us captives are wed. We have wives who must be insane with worry.”

  Coloring beneath his continued hard stare, she said stonily, “I will make this right.”

  “Woman, don’t make promises you have no intentions or abilities to keep.” His chest rose around a deep breath. “We can’t just stand here. Let’s seek a chamber where we can lie abed and pretend we tup.”

  “Of course.”

  Together, his hand at her elbow, they sought a chamber, walking past doors, some open, some locked, according to the patrons’ preferences, until they found an empty one.

  Inside, they turned from each other and stripped away their costumes.

  Kaun strode to the bed and slipped beneath the covers. “Join me.” He flipped the edge of the bedding and gave her a bitter smile.

  Reading the pain in his eyes, she knew she had much to pay for. She’d considered only her own pain, her own misfortune. Never once did she consider the plight of the men whom she’d considered ruthless barbarians.