by Jaid Black
“Look,” Madalyn said. “It’s not that you’re so bad, and you’re very handsome. For a kidnapper.”
Again, the amusement. It made him look even more handsome than he already was. A fact she didn’t care for in the slightest.
“But I can’t marry someone I don’t know! I believe marriage is sacred and should be taken seriously. Something done with the love of your life, for the rest of your life.”
“As do I,” he said softly. “You will grow to love me, Madalyn. Never doubt it.”
She shook her head in frustration. “Are you always this arrogant?”
“Aye.”
She snorted. “At least you’re honest.”
“I am.”
She turned her back on Otar and looked down the atrium. “So what’s the alternative?”
“Your pardon?”
She turned back to him and her jaw tightened. “What other choice do I have here but to marry you? Or do I not have a choice at all?”
“Nay. Under the current jarl, Toki, wenches have no say in their fates.”
“Doesn’t that just figure.”
“I captured you and I am not yet wed. This gives me the right to marry you should I so choose to. ’Tis called Hunter’s Right. The only legal way to not become my bride at this juncture is if I choose not to exercise my Hunter’s Right.”
“And if you choose not to marry me…what happens to me then?”
Otar studied her face for a lingering moment before inclining his head. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”
Chapter
Twelve
Otar led Madalyn toward the bride auction block so she would understand that marrying him was not the worst fate she could have.
He was disappointed that she did not already want him, but realistically, all new brides went through the same emotions that Madalyn was experiencing. Inevitably they grew to love their masters, so long as they were properly cared for. Madalyn would be no exception. This he knew.
Still, Otar couldn’t help but feel a bit grim about the situation. ’Twas mayhap because she’d been the object of his every fantasy for years, but until yestereve she hadn’t even known he existed. As a consequence, she wanted naught to do with him.
Hating him had not been a part of his numerous imaginings about her. Were she any wench but Madalyn, he doubted he’d care so mightily.
“Take my hand before we ascend this stairwell,” Otar instructed his captive. “You will want the men you are about to see to know you are mine.” When she looked at him skeptically, he said, “If you never believe anything else I say to you, believe this one thing.”
She hesitated but took his hand. “Okay.” Looking nervous all of a sudden, she added, “You make it sound as though the men are all a bunch of demons or something. Like we’ll walk in there and they’ll all chase me down while frothing at the mouth.”
“Hmmm…sort of like those demons that the wench Fanny Fairchild faced whilst trekking over the sea to another land?”
Madalyn stilled and her eyes widened like a kitten’s. Gods, she was beautiful. Even more captivating in person than she was in the moving pictures.
“You saw Attack of the Possessed Pirates?” she asked, amazed.
“Aye. ’Tis a good one.”
She couldn’t seem to shake her amazement. “No kidding.” She bit her lip. “You really did know who I was when you captured me.”
Otar started up the stairwell with her hand in his. “Not until I had you in my arms.” He looked down at her and winked. “’Twas an added boon when I saw just who I was obligated to take back to the Underground with me.”
She blushed and glanced away. “So what’s your favorite movie of mine?”
“I have two. Song of the Viking is one, of course.” He squeezed her hand. “Victoria falls in love with Thor even though she rages against loving him.”
Her blush grew deeper. “What’s your other favorite movie?” she hurriedly asked.
“’Twas a saga about a beauty named Gretta who fell in love with a man who disposed of rubbish for his wages.”
Madalyn nodded. “Ah, For the Love of a Garbage Man.” She sighed. “A compelling manuscript, but the guy who played the hero, Howie, was a raging alcoholic.”
“Aye?”
“Aye—I mean yes.”
She was quiet for a moment as she continued ascending the many steps of the stairwell. Otar found himself wondering what she was thinking.
“I don’t get it,” Madalyn finally said.
“What do you not understand?”
Having reached the top of the stairwell, Otar walked a few more steps, then turned to face her. He itched to run his hands through that silky, golden-red mane of hers, preferably whilst plowing into her body. For as long as he lived, he would never tire of looking at her. Big green eyes, long curly hair, and skin like cream that possessed nary a blemish.
“I mean, most people tend to like a certain type of movie. People who enjoy my historical roles, like Victoria in Song of the Viking, tend to like my other historical movies. People who like my contemporary roles, such as Gretta in For the Love of a Garbage Man, tend to like my other contemporary movies.” Her nose wrinkled. “So why those two movies in particular?”
His dark gaze went down to her breasts, then back up to her face. Without using words, he reminded her that those were the two moving pictures she’d bared her sexy, big breasts in.
“Never mind,” Madalyn muttered.
Enjoying their back-and-forth banter, Otar hated to bring an end to it. The auction would begin anon, though, and she needed to see it.
“Come,” Otar instructed her. “I’ve something to show you.”
“OH MY GOD,” Madalyn whispered. Her voice caught in the back of her throat. “This is disgusting.”
Of all the things she’d been subjected to since encountering Otar and his men, the bride auction was hands down the worst. Luckily, the only women permitted in the arena proper were the ones being sold. Madalyn and Otar watched from a balcony where the only men remotely close to them were the pitiful few that were too poor to afford a bride.
The arena was huge, an endless sea of male faces. It brought to mind an ancient Roman coliseum, the main difference being that the stage was at a higher elevation than the audience.
Her heart wrenched for the terrified, crying Inuit girl up on stage. Naked and oiled down, she had been restrained so that potential buyers could fondle her. Even from this far away, Madalyn could see the girl shaking.
This was the third woman she’d witnessed get auctioned off. Watching the first two had been difficult enough, and those women hadn’t even seemed to mind their fates. Otar had explained that they were natives of New Sweden, so had grown up all of their lives preparing for this day. Indeed, those girls relished the attention, preening more with every whistle and catcall.
Not this girl. Like Madalyn, she was a captive. Otar informed her that the female currently being sold had been the prey of a bride-hunter, a man who makes his living ensnaring women above the ground to sell them to bidders down here.
“You may approach the chattel according to rank,” she heard the auctioneer cry out. “My lords, you have first inspection and bidding rights. Proceed!”
Madalyn turned away, unable to watch what she knew was coming next. “I’ve seen enough,” she rasped out. “Please take me away from here.”
Thankfully, Otar did as she requested. He couldn’t have whisked her out of the arena fast enough to suit her.
“So,” Madalyn said as they walked, no doubt sounding as dazed as she felt, “those are my two choices? Marry you or end up on that auction block?”
“Aye.” He sighed. “I realize you do not have a care for marrying me, but those are the only two choices either of us possess in regards to your fate. Worse, if I do not take you as my bride within the fortnight, all claims to Hunter’s Right are gone.”
“So when’s the wedding?”
“The what-ing?”
>
“Wedding. Marriage. When do we get married?”
He snorted. “Ah. Suddenly I am not so bad, eh? ’Tis not the reception I was hoping for, but ’tis a beginning.”
Madalyn supposed she could have accepted his desire to marry her with a little more elegance. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I really don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but look at things from my perspective.”
“I am. Which is why I do not let your words hurt me.”
He was lying. She didn’t know how she knew, but she was as certain of that fact as she was that her name was Madalyn Mae Simon. She snuck a glance at his face as they walked. She had never expected to see even a lick of vulnerability in him and didn’t know what to make of it.
“So how do we get married here?” Madalyn asked, curious.
Otar came to a halt and faced her. “Are you ready?”
She straightened her back, her chin notching up. “I am.”
“You needn’t look like you’re preparing yourself for the gallows.”
The twinkle was back in his eyes. She swallowed as she realized she preferred it there—just because it was far less frightening than his anger, of course.
“I’m an actress. We tend to be a touch dramatic,” she sniffed.
“And your sister? She’s an actress, too?”
Madalyn waved that notion away. “She’s just paranoid. She believes the government is responsible for every bad thing that happens.”
“Are they?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think about it.”
Otar scratched his chin as he gazed down at Madalyn. “Does she believe our people to be of this government, then?”
“No, she thinks you’re aliens. You know, creatures from another planet.”
“I see.”
“Look,” Madalyn said, coming to the point, “I don’t want to end up naked on that auction block. I’d rather marry you.”
“Thank you. I think.”
Her face colored. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
His gaze found hers. “Aye, you did, but I’ll take what I can for now.”
Otar reached out and took her hands in his. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach despite herself.
“Madalyn…”
“Yes?”
“I declare Hunter’s Right.”
“Okay. So when are we getting married?”
Otar blinked. “I just married us. ’Tis all I had to say. You are mine now.”
“That’s it?” She frowned. “How anticlimactic.”
It took her a moment to absorb the fullness of the situation. “We’re really married now?”
“Aye.”
The way he said “aye” snagged her full attention. It had come out in a hoarse voice, accompanied by eyelids so heavy he looked drugged. She knew he was more than eager to consummate the marriage.
“Let us go,” Otar commanded, snapping out of it. “’Tis time for you to see your new home.”
Chapter
Thirteen
His cock was so hard it ached. Had Otar taken a native of New Sweden to wife, she would have expected to consummate their marriage the same eve. He realized he would have to be patient with Madalyn. Unfortunately and ironically, she was the only woman alive he knew he’d have trouble staying away from.
The elevator came to a jarring stop at sector 75. Otar blew out a breath as he pushed the lever up, securing it into place. Opening the cage, he motioned for his wife to follow him.
His wife. He’d spent all these years pumping his shaft with his hand, his thoughts of Madalyn, but never had he imagined he’d actually possess her. She was legally his now. No other man could ever touch her. No other man would ever dare try.
Jarl or no, not even Toki could gainsay the sacred laws of marriage. Did he so much as look at Madalyn lustfully, ’twould be Otar’s right as a husband to challenge him to fight to the death. His cousin would never be so foolish as that.
Otar’s muscles tensed up as they neared the enclave of tiny, run-down homes where his family, and several other families, dwelled. Madalyn deserved so much more than this and he wanted to give it to her. With Toki in power, ’twould never happen. Now that Madalyn was his wife, he was even more eager for the Revolution to begin.
His bastard cousin had reinstituted an old law that no jarl had recognized in over five hundred years as his means to legally oust the Thordssons from their world of privilege. While Toki possessed no means by which he could strip the paternal side of his family of all aristocratic rights, he was able to maneuver the nobles, most of whom were terrified of his wrath, to recognize the disenfranchisement of the maternal side. The paternal side carried Toki’s surname, the maternal side didn’t. ’Twas as simple, and ridiculous, as that.
All these years later, Otar’s nostrils still flared every time he recalled the look of anguish on his mother’s face the day their home was confiscated. She had lived in that dwelling all of her life. As her sire’s only heir, the familial home had been gifted to her upon his death. ’Twas the only memory of her sire she had to hold on to. Now she didn’t even have that.
“Our home is this way,” Otar informed Madalyn. “Toward the back.”
Leading her between a cluster of ramshackle dwellings, he found himself embarrassed to bring her here. He had worked so hard all of his life, yet Toki’s law forbade him to buy property outside of Shanty Row.
The people of Shanty Row were good and kind, their only crime being poverty. Because sturdy materials to craft dwellings with were expensive in New Sweden, the lowest of the laboring class had to make do with scraps that had been left over. As a result, their homes were forever rotting. The males of the village regularly pitched in and helped each other patch up their dwellings, but ’twas only so much men could do with the pitiful scraps of bark and mud they had to work with.
Otar took Madalyn by the hand as they walked through a dirt-packed alleyway. They passed by a small cantina where Shanty Rowers regularly came together for food, drink, and laughs. He smiled at a group of people he knew as they jovially called out to him, but waved away their invitation to sit.
“Are those your friends?” Madalyn asked.
“Aye.”
“I don’t mind if you want to stop and talk to them.”
Very generous of her, but if he stopped at the cantina before introducing his new bride to his family, his mother would be aggrieved. Worse, she would harangue him over the slight for years to come.
“We can stop here and eat another time,” Otar responded. “This eve you must meet my mother and sister.”
He could tell she was getting nervous from the way she chewed on her lower lip. ’Twas a decidedly adorable habit. “Why?”
His eyebrows shot up. “You are my wife. They will want to know you.”
“I see.”
“’Tis no need to be scared, Madalyn. They will not bite you if you’re nice to them,” he teased.
“This is all so much to take in,” she said quietly. “I’d really just like to eat something and go to sleep.”
Otar realized she wanted to go to sleep without him, but such would not occur. He would not force her into sex this eve, but he wanted her to grow accustomed to his presence in their bed.
“We will,” he murmured, getting hard just thinking about how small the bed was. For once there was a boon in not being permitted to own luxuries such as large beds. “Very soon.”
WALKING DOWN THE CRUDE ALLEYWAY, Madalyn was intrigued by the mud-and-twig homes nestled every which way. For a holiday, dwelling in this cute, quaint place would be a blast, but for evermore? Her heart sank at the thought of never being able to go above the ground again.
All that she knew, everything she’d taken for granted her entire life, was lost to her. The thought of never laying eyes on her ancestral home in Alabama was hard to bear. The fear that she would be separated from Drake for even another day brought tears to her eyes.
Clichéd as it sounded, she truly didn’t know
what she’d had until it was gone. The places, she could live without, but the people, namely her little sister…never.
Madalyn noticed that the farther they walked, the grimmer Otar’s mood became. She wasn’t sure what had brought the change over him, but it made her uncomfortable.
“Which house is yours?” she asked, hoping to engage him in conversation.
“We’re almost there,” he muttered. “It looks just like the rest of them. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”
“The homes here are very cute. You must love living here.”
Otar came to a sudden halt. Releasing her hand, he turned around to face her. The anger and accusation on his face made her heart race. Her eyes widened, having no idea what she’d done wrong.
“Do not tell me lies,” he hissed. “I understand that you do not wish to be my wife. I desire for your feelings to be otherwise, but I can tolerate them for what they are. What I can never abide are lies.” His nostrils flared, scaring Madalyn. “Do not tell one again.”
“I-I wasn’t lying,” she breathed out. Dumbfounded, she didn’t understand what had brought on his 180-degree change in mood. “I really think the homes here are cute. They remind me of the kind of little huts my people vacation in while in Tahiti and tropical places like that. Granted, I’ve never seen such a home in a polar region, but down here I’ve seen a lot of things I never knew existed.”
His expression slowly softened, and he studied her face for a lingering moment before speaking.
“I should not have yelled at you.” Otar ran a hand over his jaw and sighed. “This place…” Frowning, he glanced around and shook his head. “’Tis a sore subject for me. You have my apologies, Madalyn.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “We’ve all got sore points. Couldn’t be human without them.”
“You have a forgiving nature,” he murmured, his gaze searching hers. “’Tis a beautiful quality.”
