Enslaved by a Viking

by Delilah Devlin

  Could she get word to the kingdoms? Warn them of what to expect? That the Consortium was blind to Helios’s scheme to enrich its own population? Would the Consortium even care should the Icelanders inform them?

  They might care if the precious ore that fueled the planets was cut off.

  Fatin raised her head and moved with renewed purpose. She might have failed Eirik in every way possible, might have spelled the death of every Icelander within PG’s purview, but she could still put a halt to Aliyah’s cruelty.

  She’d do it for Eirik—to fulfill his hopes. She’d do it to cleanse her own soul. The punishment she would endure would be a start, a scouring of her flesh for her many sins. Not the ones Aliyah held against her.

  With a prod from Gold-Tooth, Eirik entered the empty chamber situated inside PG’s main facility. As soon as he stepped through the sliding door, it closed, locks engaged. Inside, there was running water, a urinal. He made use of both, wiping blood and grime from his wounds while he tried not to think too hard about what was to come.

  The door slid open. Bethel stepped inside, a white tray in her hand, her face so pale and strained that his own body reacted to her tension.

  Her eyes rolled to the side, and he knew she was indicating the watcher’s eye in the far corner of the room. He gave her a nod and a small smile.

  “Twice in two days? And no stocks or manacles?”

  “Will you give me trouble?”

  “No, Bethel. You’ve shown me kindness.”

  She lifted her chin toward the cot. “If you take a seat . . . I don’t want you standing, not with those great gouges bleeding. I’d like to see to them first.”

  “Before you take my seed?”

  Her lips firmed into a thin line. “I do what I must, Viking.”

  “And I understand and forgive you.”

  Her eyes closed. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t be kind.”

  “Why, Bethel? Why does kindness upset you?” When her tearfilled gaze rose to meet his, he read his fate. “I see. Why bother with my wounds?”

  “Aliyah doesn’t wish to look upon them.”

  “How upsetting for her to see my blood.”

  “She’s . . . upset about many things . . . Eirik.”

  The last word she whispered, and he at last understood. More than his attempted escape, his existence in this facility had been discovered, and had to be a huge problem for Aliyah.

  His thoughts whirling now, unimpeded, the only resolution he could see was his own death. His existence would never be admitted. Which spelled doom for the men who were equally aware that a noble had been among those taken.

  “Do the others know?” he said softly.

  Her gaze flicked to his, her lips pursed. “Hold still, Viking,” she said loudly as she pushed ointment into the long, deep scratches the beast had left. She leaned closer. “Adem comes. He may be able to save the others.”

  “Do the men know?”

  “What good would it do for them to know? He may arrive too late or be caught. Then what?”

  Eirik grabbed her hand. “What of the bounty hunter?”

  Bethel pushed his hand away and continued sliding ointment into his wounds. “She’s in deep trouble too. Aliyah has kept her close.”

  “To punish her?”

  “She’s to be whipped,” Bethel said, the stiffness of her shoulders indicating she had little sympathy for Fatin. “On the exercise field in full view of all the thralls and staff. An example to any others who break the rules.”

  “Will I be there?”

  Her nod was sharp. “As soon as your wounds are treated.”

  “Why not use the wand?”

  “She doesn’t want you healed. But she doesn’t want blood dripping behind you. Her words.” When she’d finished, she knelt between his legs. “Would you prefer doing this yourself?”

  “Why should I cooperate?” he growled.

  “You want to know what happens, don’t you? As long as you resist, we’ll sit here.”

  Eirik grasped his cock. “Look away.”

  Her lopsided smile held more than a hint of grim humor. “Why shy now?”

  “I’m not shy. But the last woman who touched me is the last one I ever want.”

  She shook her head, mild disgust in her expression. “Are you talking about Fatin?”

  “Yes.” He tugged his cock, then circled the base with his fingers and squeezed, urging blood to the tip. When heat began to stir, he turned his gaze from his own large hand and thought of Fatin.

  He’d never been a man to daydream. Never fantasized to fill the well of his desire. But Fatin was never far from his thoughts. Since they’d met, he’d felt a connection that didn’t fade with distance or sour with his deep discontent.

  Her soft, husky voice came to him again. Take this with you, Viking. Into the ring. I love you.

  He had no doubt, deep inside, that she’d spoken the truth. His own heart had known from the start that she was his mate.

  How else had she gotten past his warrior’s cynicism and encouraged him to let down his guard? He’d wanted to trust the passion and the innocence in her eyes.

  And he knew now that despite what she’d been, what she’d done, she was a true innocent at heart. And a valiant soul steadfast in her loyalty to her sister.

  A quality he valued above purity of body. Above the taint of her blood, which he was coming to believe infused her with a bird’s free but lonely spirit.

  As he gave up his essence one last time, he held to the memory of the naked beauty of that declaration. Thinking only of her.

  Fatin, the procurer. Fatin, the bounty hunter. Fatin, his love.

  Twenty-one

  Stripped of even the loin skirt, Fatin faced the pole Aliyah had ordered erected at the end of the exercise field near the moat. Her hands were bound with rough hemp, the ends folded into her palms for her to clench.

  She’d been led past the row of Vikings who’d been brought to watch her punishment. Kaun’s gaze had fallen away as his jaw clenched tight. Hakon had met her gaze and lifted his chin, a signal that she should do the same. She’d almost smiled. She’d even noted a hint of regret in Hagrid’s hard glance.

  As much as the men might have wished her harm at one time, she sensed they understood a little better that she was one of them. As much a victim and enthralled to Aliyah’s greed for power.

  Conspicuous in his absence was Eirik, a fact that made her fiercely glad. She didn’t want him to witness this. Didn’t want him to see her weak or afraid.

  His fate weighed on her shoulders. Caused her belly to cramp with nausea. Her pride had led her to this and sealed both their fates.

  She’d take the lashing and pray that her blood spilled in the dirt, that her offering to Zeus would be enough to appease the allpowerful god. Perhaps he would take pity and intervene to save her warrior.

  She closed her eyes and leaned her face against the rough tree bark, wishing it was done. But apparently Aliyah wanted her to suffer the anticipation.

  A soft, slender hand stroked her naked back, causing her to jerk. She hadn’t heard the whore-mistress’s approach.

  Fingers twisted into her hair, pulling back her head. Aliyah leaned close and rubbed her cheek against Fatin’s. “Don’t you want to see your lover one last time?” she purred.

  Fatin shook her head. “Why be cruel? Why not just get on with it? I’m sure you have better things to do. Stacks of coins to count.”

  Aliyah tsked. “I loved you and your sister. Thought of you as daughters. But you couldn’t be content in my care.”

  “You’d sell your own daughters to old men bent on rape?”

  “It’s only sex, Fatin,” she said, her lips curling with disgust. “Like breathing. Necessary. Why couldn’t you be content growing wealthy? You were a street urchin. I raised you up. Fed you the best foods, dressed you in silks. You were pampered beyond your station. And yet, you were never satisfied.”
r />   Fatin knew she wasted breath trying to explain, but she leveled a steady gaze on the woman. “I was never free. I’m a Falcon, maybe not in form, but at heart. I can’t soar inside a prison.”

  “And yet your sister sits inside the saray, quite content. No ambitions to soar when she wears the wings. I think you’re flawed. Too proud to ever find happiness.”

  Fatin’s shoulders slumped. Her sight shimmered with tears. “Aliyah, please spare him and his men.”

  “What would you give me in return?” she said silkily. “You know that everything is a transaction. What can you possibly offer me that would entice me to risk my own death?”

  “There has to be a way to place the blame on me. Only on me. Free Eirik to return home. You can do the right thing. Do you really think that you can keep this contained, that no one will ever know what you did?”

  “I have friends who will protect me, but for them to help me I must erase the proof.”

  There was no reason, no bargain that would sway her. Aliyah would take twenty lives to preserve her own.

  Fatin leaned against the pole again. “Why do you wait? Let’s get this over with.”

  Aliyah’s hand tightened in her hair. “You lover comes . . . Look, Fatin. See him one last time.”

  Her forehead pressed against the hard wood, Fatin turned her face to see Eirik stride toward the field. His hands were manacled in front of him. He wore only the loin skirt and his silver thrall’s cuff, but his head was held high, his expression ruthless and fierce.

  She raised her head and straightened her shoulders, meeting his gaze. If this was his last glimpse of her, she didn’t want him to see her afraid. She gave him a blazing smile.

  When he took his place with Hakon in front of the line of his brothers, only then did she turn away.

  “Michael!”

  Aliyah’s uncharacteristically shrill shout made her jump, but she quickly quelled her nerves, breathing deeply as the eunuch approached carrying a long leather whip.

  “Ten lashes. Your lovely back . . .” Aliyah sighed, stroking her skin again, then walked away.

  Fatin gritted her teeth and clenched tight to the rope that bound her. The first sharp lash stole her breath. The next caused her to hiss between her teeth, tears to prick her eyes, but she blinked them away. Pain seared her back from hip to shoulder.

  After the next and the next lashes, she bit her lip, felt blood dribble down her chin, but still she held back her cries.

  However, the burning stripes that followed took their toll on her pride and strength. She groaned and embraced the pole, leaning against it to keep her knees from buckling. Warm blood splattered her cheek, and she faced forward. The ooze of more blood trickling down her back, over her buttocks, was the least of what held her attention. She’d lost count and cringed again and again, in unending agony.

  Another stroke of the whip, and she sobbed. Her knees gave way. The rough bark scraped her chest and knees as she buckled.

  “Fatin!”

  She heard Eirik’s cry, but couldn’t manage a response. Her eyelids drifted down and darkness enfolded her in gentle arms.

  Eirik watched Fatin’s knees give way and her body sag and slide slowly down the pillar she’d been tied to. His fists were curled at his sides, veins bulging in his arms.

  Hakon held his wrist, pulling hard to hold him back. “You can’t interfere. ’Tis only a whipping. She’ll survive. If you rush to help her, you’ll be cut down.”

  “I’m already a dead man,” he clipped. “As are you all. They know who I am.” His gaze slid sideways to meet Hakon’s widening eyes.

  Hakon stiffened and glanced over his shoulder at the men behind them. “We’re not long for this realm, then.”

  “As soon as this is done, I’m to be killed. You may have a day or so longer to live, but they can’t allow anyone who has knowledge of who I am, outside of Aliyah and PG, to live. There is no longer time to plan.”

  Hakon gave a stiff nod. “We must make our move, even though it will mean our deaths. I understand. ’Tis better to die in battle than like cattle led to slaughter. We’ll sleep with Valkyries tonight.”

  “Why did you stop?” Aliyah shouted, pulling their attention forward again. Although Fatin was clearly unconscious, Aliyah quivered with rage. “How many?”

  “Eight, mistress,” her eunuch replied.

  Aliyah raised a hand and snapped her fingers.

  An attendant rushed forward, carrying a ewer. She dashed the contents over Fatin, who sputtered, then moaned.

  “Get her up!”

  The attendant put her shoulder beneath Fatin’s arm and lifted her. “Hold the pole, bounty hunter. It will soon be over.”

  Eirik glanced around at the other watchers, at the attendants who wore shocked, pale faces or expressions of deep revulsion to the savagery of Aliyah’s punishment. “We move now, Hakon. Before we quit this field.”

  “Now?” The corners of his mouth quirked up; then he took a slight step backward. He murmured quietly to the men behind him.

  Eirik heard the rumble move down the line, turned to see nods, subtle tightening of jaws, hardening glances. His men would follow his lead.

  He returned his attention to Fatin, willed her silently to hold on. Her slender body shuddered visibly; even from a distance he could tell she didn’t have much strength left inside her.

  The bitch Aliyah had misjudged them all. A whipping wouldn’t intimidate them. Bloodletting, especially of a woman, would only fire their blood and their lust for reprisal.

  When the last lash fell, he raised his bound hands, bent, and launched himself toward the nearest guard, Gold-Tooth. Roaring, he pushed him back, barreling into the guard, forcing him back another step, then another, until the guard’s feet met the edge of the moat.

  Gold-Tooth teetered there for a moment, his arms flailing, his eyes so wide the whites framed his black pupils. Then he fell over the edge into the water.

  Eirik paused only a moment to savor his satisfaction as the sand at the bottom of the moat shivered, then the dark creatures exploded upward to devour him.

  Birget’s long strides matched Baraq’s as they carried the last of the packets of soft, claylike explosives to the cargo lift in the basement of the PG headquarters. Adem had shown them the schematic and the place the charges should be set. Already they’d pushed the sticky clay into hidden corners throughout the building. This last one was the largest, and set to go off beneath the center of the laboratory.

  As soon as they were through, they were to head to the men’s quarters as quickly as possible. When the first explosion went off at the arrival center near the hoverpad, the hope was that most of the guards would scramble to react to the threat, leaving the barracks mostly unguarded.

  The rescuers would herd the captives to the tram. Vehicles waited at the first station past the compound to carry them to the dock for departure aboard the Daedalus.

  Baraq pushed the button on the timer. The readout remained blank.

  “Do it again,” Birget whispered. “Hurry; we need to get out of here,” she said, checking the time on the wrist clock that Adem had latched to her arm.

  “It’s not starting,” he said, a worried frown creasing his brow. “You go. I’ll be right behind you.” Already he was pulling the timer wand from the bundle, shaking it, slapping it against his palm. “That did it,” he said. Raising his head, he whispered, “Go! Let Adem know we have everything else in place.”

  “Don’t make me come back for you,” she whispered harshly. She didn’t like leaving him. But he was right. There were so many parts of the plan she wasn’t aware of, and Adem needed to be kept apprised. He’d decided against communicators inside the compound in the event security monitored all frequencies.

  They’d scheduled every task. How he’d known how long it would take to move from one target to the next, she didn’t know, hadn’t asked, but the number of maps he’d acquired indicated he’d been planning this for a very long time.
/>   “Why now?” she’d asked him. “Why did you wait so long?”

  “We have friends inside, but they needed incentive, something to help them remain steady. Your Viking and Fatin provided them that. They will help now to save them. He’s a noble. At the end of the day, they can honestly say they acted to save him rather than be coconspirators to his murder.”

  And after his battle in the arena, the whole of Helios would be talking about the brave warrior. Once word leaked that he was a prince, PG and all those involved in the scheme to capture and enslave the Vikings would come under scrutiny.

  Once held out in the light, their conspiracy would be condemned.

  Today’s sabotage might even be seen as an expedient necessity—heading off PG’s attempt at mass murder.

  Birget ran to the lift, waited impatiently for it to arrive, her gaze sweeping to the corridor, willing Baraq to hurry.

  The door opened. She cursed Baraq for his stubbornness. Did they even need to destroy the facility? Wouldn’t the point be made when the most public of the buildings crumbled beneath the blasts?

  On the first floor, she held her breath as the doors slid open. She walked sedately through the foyer, not drawing any undue attention. Once outside, she loped toward the exercise field. To Adem, who had a bag stashed inside the fighting pit, one filled with weapons. But as soon as she stepped onto the field, she knew something was wrong.

  Tall, nearly naked men fought with fists, sticks, heavy punching bags, whatever they had managed to find, to keep the guards’ stun-spears from touching them. A quick glance and she found Eirik, his shoulders down, hands bound, barreling toward a pole where Fatin, covered in angry, bloody stripes, sat hunched at the base of a pole.

  “Birget!” Adem raced toward her, unspooling twine from around a long bag, and then dumping the contents in front of her. “Spears, swords.”

  She didn’t need his instruction; she gathered an armful of weapons and headed toward the men.