Enslaved by a Viking

by Delilah Devlin

He tsked. “She’s playing you—you do know that?”

  She wanted to ignore the cynicism in his tone, but shrugged. She already felt stupid enough after her disastrous day—the last thing she wanted was to have her nose rubbed in her many failures.

  Strong hands landed on her shoulders, kneading them gently. “Fatin, you’re wasting time,” he whispered in her ear, “waiting on something you will never have. Aliyah will never release your sister, not so long as she can profit from her and force you to her will.”

  “I know. But I’ve lived so long in hope . . .” His grip tightened and she wished it didn’t feel so good. She felt suddenly sapped of energy.

  “We have to make plans now before anything befalls the men you abducted. This Adem. Can he help us?”

  “I think so. But I don’t know how quickly he’ll be willing to act. He’s waited for weeks for me to return as it is.”

  “How can he help?”

  “He has friends inside the facility. And he has access to weapons. He’s been studying PG for a while.”

  “Weapons from illegal trade?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “So unregistered.”

  “Completely off the grid and all tracking removed.”

  A tram rumbled down the track. They both stepped to the edge of the platform.

  Fatin shot him a sideways glance. “So, Baraq, where’s your girlfriend? Is she still in my room? I’m shocked you managed to get her to stay put.”

  He flashed a smile. “You caught on that she’s not very patient? No matter that the sight of her would draw too much attention here, she didn’t want to wait until I returned.”

  Fatin grunted. “What did you do? Tie her to the bed?”

  His laughter was husky, deliciously masculine. “Of course. And I had to strip her to make sure she hadn’t any clothing if she managed to untie the knots. Any trouble tonight?”

  She grimaced. “Maybe.”

  Baraq’s dark eyes flashed. “Tell me.”

  The train slid to a halt, giving her a welcome pause in the conversation. The doors opened and the other riders stepped inside, heading toward the front of the car. Baraq and Fatin headed to seats in the rear.

  Seeking a padded bench, Fatin sat slowly but winced. From head to toe, she was one big ache. And she needed rest.

  Baraq tucked a finger under her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. “What happened?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I got caught alone by one of the guards.”

  “I noticed you lost an item of clothing,” he said, eyeing her gown. “Did he hurt you?”

  She gave a quick shake of her head. “The corset was biting into my ribs.”

  “I thought I’d laced it loosely enough,” he said, an edge of humor in his voice.

  She smiled thinking of how Birget had itched to be the one to pull the laces tight.

  “I didn’t remove it for him, if that’s what you’re thinking. He never got that far.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that. Fatin, did he hurt you?” he repeated, his tone stern.

  She cleared her throat. “I dropped him with his stun gun.”

  Baraq cursed under his breath. “Why did you let him get that close?”

  She shrugged, pretending unconcern when her stomach still roiled at the way he’d rutted between her legs. “I had to let him move in. Only way to catch him off guard. I left him on the ground and stole his helmet.”

  His expression sharpened. “You have a helmet?”

  “Had. I couldn’t very well walk around with it under my arm. I thought I’d hidden it well enough, but when I went back for it . . . it was gone.”

  “Fatin, dammit to Hades.” His body stiffened. “We could have used it. Think he’ll report it?”

  “I don’t know. But I do know I’m not going to be safe on the grounds anymore.”

  “Which only proves we need to move fast—if we’re to have any hope of getting back inside to break the men out.”

  “And my sister.”

  He nodded. “And your sister. We have to see this Adem tonight.”

  Weary, she sat deeper in her seat and leaned her head against the scratched leather.

  The tram rattled and turned, and she slid and jerked herself awake.

  “Scoot.”

  She blinked.

  Baraq moved in closer and put his arm behind her. “Sleep. Don’t you dare tell Birget I offered you comfort.”

  “Afraid?”

  He grunted. “For my balls. She’s still got an ax to grind with you.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “I’m a little more pragmatic. We need you. And you won’t be of any use if you drop dead from exhaustion.”

  She settled her head against his shoulder and let out a sigh. “I’ve made a mess.”

  “That you have, bounty hunter. That you have.”

  Attendants arrived in the early-morning hours to roust any clients still abed, as well as to turn out Hakon and Eirik from the saray. Left to find their own way back, they discovered that the men’s salon was also being emptied of patrons who were being dressed and led back to the hoverpad for transport home.

  What was unusual was the fact the men weren’t snoring away the effects of the aphrodisiac or eager to find their own cots in the barracks. Instead, they sat in a grouping of couches pulled together.

  When Eirik and Hakon entered and the doors closed, Hagrid waved them over, a broad smile splitting his face. “Did you sleep on feather beds and drink from gold chalices?” he said loudly, his gaze making a quick dart to the “eye” in the gold fish sitting on a mantel.

  Alert in an instant that whatever was on the men’s minds shouldn’t be relayed to their watchers, Eirik feigned a yawn. “Don’t know what the fuss is all about. It’s not so different from here, except the women are a sight prettier than you.”

  He sat beside Hagrid and watched as Kaun slid over to make room for Hakon in the seat nearest the watcher’s eye. Then Kaun laughed and punched Hakon’s arm and asked for details of what transpired that night in the women’s saray in an overloud voice.

  Hagrid leaned toward Eirik. “I’ll never say another word against that bounty hunter,” he whispered. “She left us a gift.”

  “A gift?”

  “I watched her tonight. She hid something under one of the tables after she came in from outside. Looked as though she’d either been in a fight or had frigged a guard.”

  Eirik’s body stilled, mind racing, wondering what had happened after Fatin left Zarah’s window. But he kept silent, as Hagrid’s expression became more animated.

  “You’d never believe what she gave us.”

  “Out with it.”

  “A helmet. One of the guard’s helmets with a visor. Don’t know how she stole it, but it’s ours now.”

  What luck! Eirik leaned forward. “Have you had a chance to examine it?”

  “Aye, Kaun and Garm took a look. They think the visor has night vision and there’s a built-in transmitter-receiver.”

  Eirik groaned. “Bollocks. They’ll track it.”

  Hagrid’s grin stretched even wider. “The tracking, everything, was turned off.”

  Eirik studied Hagrid’s expression, while he mulled over what this meant. “Still not much use without the rest of the uniform.”

  Hagrid’s eyebrows waggled. “There’s a wee bit of a bather who’s meeting me while the rest of you exercise later today. She’s bringing me one from the laundry.”

  “And you trust her?” Eirik’s mind rolled over the possibilities.

  “She’s in love.” Hagrid leaned back and rubbed his cock. “Or loves little Hagrid. What does it matter? We have something now.”

  “But only one of us can use it.”

  Hagrid’s gaze narrowed. “Only takes one to get out and get to Consortium offices.”

  Which meant they wanted him to use it. He was the only one who might gain entry due to his rank.

  “Think on it,” Hagrid said, glancing over
his shoulder, then leaning closer. “Bypass Helio enforcers altogether. Once you report to Consortium officials the fact you were taken, no Helio can touch you.”

  Like a wisp of fire fed with kindling, Eirik’s excitement flared. Hope came alive in his chest. “I could then relay word to Dagr and arrange a shipment of ore to purchase your freedom.”

  Hagrid’s gleeful expression slipped. He cupped Eirik’s knee and clenched his fingers tight around it. “I don’t trust you, Wolf. But we have to believe you won’t turn your backs on Icelanders and leave us to rot.”

  “Get me the uniform. Tonight I’ll break out. But I’ll need a distraction. Something noisy enough to bring the guards running.”

  Hagrid grinned again and sat back, stretching his arms along the back of the couch. “I’m thinking the Helios need to see what Vikings are all about.”

  The men seated all around them began to laugh, throwing back their heads as the sound grew and grew. Eirik sat back, drinking in the moment.

  Hope set free sounded wild and uninhibited. His chest expanded. At last, they had a chance to shake free of their shackles. He’d not fail them.

  Twelve

  With Baraq at her back this time, Fatin stepped inside the murky meyhane, heading directly to the bar.

  As she approached, Samson’s eyes widened, his gaze going from Baraq to Fatin. He gave her a one-sided smirk. “I see your friend found you.”

  Fatin stepped onto the ledge beneath the bar, reached for Samson’s collar, twisting it tight, and pulled his head close. “No fucking around, Samson,” she bit out. “My friend and I aren’t playing games. I want to know where to find Adem.”

  He choked until she eased her hold. Then, red-faced, Samson whispered, “Adem’s a busy man. And the last time I spoke with him, he wasn’t all that keen to see you again.” His lips twisted. “Guess your pussy isn’t as attractive as you thought.”

  She fisted her hand in his collar and slammed his head against the counter.

  The bar around them grew quiet. A bouncer stepped out of the shadows, tapping a cudgel against his open palm.

  Baraq turned to face him. “It’s not your fight. Our business is strictly with Samson. I’ll make it yours if you don’t back off now.”

  The thick-necked Helio raised his hands, but didn’t step back, continuing to eye Fatin and Samson.

  Fatin leaned closer to the barman, whose face was breaking out in a clammy sweat. “Where is he? He won’t come looking for you. My promise. He’ll want to hear me out.”

  “Bitch.” Samson gritted his teeth. “I hope he hangs you from a meat hook. He’s in the cannery. Dockside. You know the one.”

  She eased her hold just enough to let him breathe. “Doin’ good, Samson. Don’t stop now.”

  “He’s been there for days,” he said, an ugly scowl furrowing his forehead. “Guards all around it. No one in. If you go through the front, you might end up on the menu.”

  “And that would suit you fine, wouldn’t it? Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Would have saved you kissing the counter.” She let him go and jumped back, just missing the blade he pulled from under the counter and swung toward her face.

  Fatin gave a laugh, the ache in her ribs worth the trouble to see the fury turning his skin purple. “You’ll have to try harder than that.” She tipped her chin at Baraq. “Let’s go. I have what I need.”

  “That whore of a sister you have . . . seen her lately?” Samson shouted after her.

  Blood pounding in her ears, Fatin picked up a pot of ore from one of the tables and flung it at the barman, who raised an arm at the last minute to deflect it. The crockery shattered the glass behind his counter.

  With his curses following her out the door, she laughed again. After being the one on the receiving end of a bruising one too many times in the past couple of days, she felt more herself. In charge again.

  “You’re feisty for such a little thing,” Baraq murmured. “Might have been wiser not to make such a scene.”

  “Who’s anyone going to tell?” She flung an arm outward. “The men don’t want their wives knowing they’re fucking whores. And Samson and his crew certainly don’t want enforcers crawling all over them.”

  Baraq shook his head. “Back to Suffrage House?”

  “Yeah, your princess might be gnawing through the ropes by now. Besides, we’ll have to wait for night again to pay Adem a visit. Depending on how tightly buttoned up he is, we might have to slip through the guards to get a chance to talk to him.”

  “Wouldn’t mind some shut-eye,” he murmured.

  “Sleep?” She snorted. “Just keep it down. Your princess is a screamer.”

  For the first time since he’d awoken in this nightmare, Eirik felt like his old self. A round of fisticuffs with Hakon and then a couple of the other Bearshirts had left him relaxed, his body humming with energy and a fiery heat that hadn’t a thing to do with the weather on this godless planet.

  Tonight, he’d make a break for freedom or die trying.

  The uniform was stuffed beneath the mattress in the chamber he’d claimed. The helmet and boots hidden in the washstand cabinet. His men had already increased the staff’s wariness by their rowdy behavior on the field and during their evening meal, pulling all their attention, while he’d kept himself removed from their antics.

  Even Aliyah’s usual calm facade was frayed. Tension dug lines into her forehead; her lips stayed in a thin, full line. “Can you do nothing to calm them?” she muttered beneath her breath.

  “Mistress, they are Vikings and unused to confinement.” He gave her a sideways glance. “You really should have done a little study to confirm our fitness for this sort of life before you had us abducted.”

  “There are remedies,” she muttered.

  He forced himself not to glance down at her amulet. He hoped she wouldn’t resort to that. And he’d cautioned the men not to get too out of hand before he had a chance to handle that particular problem.

  “The women don’t seem to mind the ruckus,” he drawled.

  Aliyah frowned. “The women are hoping all that unspent energy will be directed toward their pleasure.”

  Pleasure. He was thoroughly sick of the word. And wondered if he’d ever be free with his sexuality again. He’d fucked so many women in so few days that their faces were a blur. To be honest, he’d gotten more enjoyment from the solid thuds of Hakon’s fists against his belly than pounding between clasping thighs. “Aliyah, these men are warriors.”

  “I know—it’s why they’re perfect for our needs.” She met his glance with a pointed one of her own. “There are worse fates than being sex-thralls, Wolf. I might have to arrange a demonstration to show them the alternative.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that, or the nasty curve of her thinned lips. Whatever she had planned wouldn’t be pleasant. “Have the women made their selections?”

  “Do you want to know who will claim you first?”

  Impatient with the conversation and the fact she might decide to wait until the women left to approach him again, he blurted, “I had hoped that we might take another turn.”

  Had he been too quick? Would she suspect?

  Her gaze studied his face. The lines smoothed, and a blush stained her cheeks. “It might be possible. I’m anxious. A little play might help ease my tension. The guards can handle this if things get out of hand.” Her hand landed on his arm. Her fingers stroked him. “I have thought of little else since last we spent time alone.”

  “Hakon will be disappointed when he’s left out,” he murmured, but smiled, drawing her in.

  She stroked her tongue over her lower lip. “Hakon wasn’t the one who commanded my attention.”

  Eirik grasped her hand, turning it to kiss the inside of her wrist, inhaling too much of her cloying perfume. “Check the list. See if you can move a name.”

  She nodded, then turned away with a trill of breathless laughter.

  He almost felt regret for playing her. Almost. Sh
e was a woman at her core. One who craved a strong master. But she’d denied her nature for a long time. She’d enslaved others to feed another, greedier hunger.

  Feeling regret that he would have to wait to make her suffer his full revenge, he looked across the crowd to Hakon and gave him a subtle nod. Once he’d removed her from the room, the rest of the plan they’d sketched out between them while they’d traded blows would be enacted.

  He tried not to think about what would happen once he’d escaped the compound’s walls or how he would find a Consortium office. One step at a time. The most dangerous part would be slipping through security once the others started the commotion.

  Aliyah returned shortly, her cheeks flushed. “It’s arranged.”

  “I’ve claimed a room. Everything we need is there.”

  Her lips parted. Her hand slid into the curve of his elbow.

  With one last pointed glance to the two guards positioned at the doors, she allowed him to lead her out of the salon and down the hallway to the private chambers.

  His heart began a steady, heavy thrumming. He forced himself to keep his pace leisurely as he drew her along down the corridor, toward the room where he’d arranged a surprise for her.

  She leaned her head against his upper arm. “Tell me more about your world.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m curious.”

  Eirik arched a brow. “What things do Heliopolites think about us and New Iceland?”

  “Only what our history tells us, and what the few who have visited on trade missions have mentioned to the press.” She turned to peer into his face. “That you wear fur. That there are dragons in your oceans. That it’s so cold tears freeze into icicles. Is that all true?”

  “Yes. But there’s also a rugged beauty to our world. Mountains so tall they scrape the clouds. Fire that rages in the night sky.”

  “Fire?” Her dark eyes widened.

  “A borealis, really, but we prefer the old stories that it is the light reflected on the shields of the Valkyries.”

  “Valkyries?” She shook her head. “Your names . . .”

  “The Valkyrja are female warriors who serve Odin under the command of the goddess Freya.”