by Mia Marlowe
Valdis's mouth tightened into a hard line. Her family's abandonment of her was an ache that never quite stilled.
“And yet life can be full of joy. If”—Chloe paused for emphasis—“you choose for it to be.”
Valdis nodded slowly. That one choice gave her a measure of power in her powerless life. Perhaps that was why she'd made the choice to invite Erik to come to her. She had the power to accept the pleasure he offered. She'd been reared to regard the Havamal, the sayings of Odin, as the fount of wisdom by which to measure her life. Yet here was wisdom that rang truer in her ears than the dry homilies of the one-eyed All-Father. Even as a slave, Valdis could choose joy and it would be real.
“Teach me more,” she said.
“The act of love should be one of joy.”
“Even if it is not accompanied by true love?”
“True love is another subject altogether. We are speaking of joy now. Of course, the congress of a man and a woman is enhanced by love. Yet even without it, if the woman is skillful, a full measure of pleasure may still be found. The natural impulse of a man is quickness. They see something they want and they move to take it,” Chloe said. “It is the job of the woman not to stop him, but to slow him down. A rush to the prize diminishes its value. In the deferment of desire, its coals are stoked.”
“I don't understand,” Valdis said.
“Let the dance be your teacher,” Chloe said. “Did we begin with large movements?”
“No, slow and small.”
“Yes, and so should it be with a lover,” Chloe said. “Let us begin with the unveiling. Your master may wish to undress you himself. Some men do, but if he allows it, you may set the tone for your dalliance by how you reveal yourself to him. Imagine, if you will, that your master wishes you to dance for him while disrobing. How would you do it?”
Valdis's eyes widened. The idea of undressing before a strange man made her belly writhe like a ball of snakes. “I don't think I could.”
“Nonsense,” Chloe said. “I have heard the rumors. The master will see you freed if you comply with his wishes and complete the task he assigns. Do you not want your freedom?”
Valdis gnawed the inside of her cheek and nodded.
“Then wipe that pained expression from your face and use your imagination,” Chloe said. “One way a woman can wring joy from a forced match is to imagine. Banish the real man. Picture instead the man you could love. See him clear in your mind. Hold that thought and dance for him.”
Valdis squeezed her eyes shut, and immediately Erik's face came into focus. Could she love him? She couldn't say, but she had known little peace since that night in the garden when her body stirred to his. She'd relived each kiss, each touch a hundred times, till her body ached for release. When he said he was leaving, panic clawed at her belly. She was beginning to think he was the only one she could trust in this Byzantine household, the only one whose gruff, straightforward way of thinking she understood.
Besides, she also wanted to give him a chance to show her what pleasure they could share without taking her maidenhead and putting them both at risk. But love? She just didn't know. She only knew that if he came to her chamber at moonrise, she wouldn't send him away again.
But for now, she would use his image as Chloe commanded. His features were taut with the hunger she'd first seen in him at the slave market.
“Can you see him? Does he desire you?”
“Yes.” Valdis swayed a little, remembering the white-hot longing that robbed her of sleep after their last tryst.
“Then reflect that desire back to him as a piece of polished brass shows you your own face. Feel his heat. Let it burn you to your inmost place,” Chloe's voice urged with a rasp. “Now dance.”
Chloe began to beat time on the floor with her palms, and Valdis started to move. What had started as a lesson in joy became an exercise in longing. As Valdis performed the prescribed steps, she saw how natural it was to slide a thumb beneath her palla to bare her shoulder, how the dance was designed so she could send smoldering gazes at her imaginary lover as she slowly allowed part of her dress to drift down to expose her breasts.
Erik had seemed delighted with them. She thought she heard the echo of his growl of pleasure when he claimed her nipple.
She cupped her breasts in her hands and offered them up to her phantom man, the pink tips aching. She ran the pads of her thumbs around her nipples and they puckered with longing. In her imagination, Erik's mouth was upon them once more and she groaned with need.
She turned her back on the dream-Erik and lifted her arms above her head. Her palla dropped to her undulating hips and she arched her back, feeling the brush of her long hair against the dimples above her buttocks. She imagined his sharp intake of breath as she lifted her heavy hair to expose the curve of her spine and the delicate crevice at its base.
The tempo quickened and she spun to face her invisible lover. Her hands started at the base of her own throat and roved over her body, flickers of pleasure following the trail left by her fingers. She shoved the palla past her hips and stepped out of it, her limbs free as she moved with abandon, the core of her being aflame. His fingers, those blessed talented fingers, were teasing her seat of pleasure till it plumped like a ripe fruit, the skin near to bursting. She slid her own hands down to spread the lips of her sex. The kiss of air on that charged secret flesh drove her to the edge.
The dance became a frenzy and she whirled till she collapsed in a splayed heap. The heartbeat between her legs pounded with as much insistence as the one in her chest.
Lying on the marble floor, Valdis gasped for air as she willed herself to find a measure of calm. Kissing Erik in the moonlight had whipped up this aching fury. Bare imagining that she danced and disrobed for him unhinged her reason just as much. Her body screamed for release.
Chloe said a woman must slow a man, but the demand from her body would brook no delay. If Erik were with her in truth, she'd beg him to end this torment, to still this bewildering need. She rubbed the heel of her hand over her groin and her anguish deepened.
Chloe came over and leaned to peer down at her. Valdis startled when she entered her field of vision. In her intimate abandon, she'd forgotten her teacher was even there.
“You have a very fine imagination,” she said. “It will serve you well. Dance like that for your new master and you will undoubtedly become a favorite in no time. Come and have your bath and I will tell you what I know of bringing a man to the same edge of passion. You will learn that to torment another with desire is to treble your own.”
Treble the longing she felt now? Valdis doubted she could bear even a single drop more. Yet if Erik were the man leading her into the labyrinth of desire, she'd be willing to try.
“A woman who can keep hold of reason even in the throes of passion is either a valiant ally or a fearsome foe.”
—from the secret journal of Damian Aristarchus
Chapter I2
* * *
He's not coming.
Valdis sighed as the moon rose into the black vault of the sky. With each warbling call of the nightjar, each rustle of the jasmine-scented breeze through the cypress, Valdis fancied she heard Erik's approach. But when she padded to the open doorway to greet him all she saw was the empty moon-washed garden.
Perhaps he couldn't decipher the runes. She brushed the thought aside.
Erik was too intelligent not to grasp the concept of sound married to symbol. Besides, she hadn't even told him about the tricky part, the way each rune stood for not only a sound, but also a separate word or idea. A true rune-master could devise a devilishly clever message within a message.
Surely he was coming. Hadn't he all but called her his woman?
Chloe's teaching spun in her mind. If knowledge were power, then Valdis was formidable indeed. She knew exactly what she'd do once Erik came; how she'd entice and torment him, how to allow only so much intimacy and then withdraw so he'd pant after her all the more. Chloe had taught her
how to find a man's most sensitive spots, to tease his nipples and nip at his ear-lobes, to stroke his ballocks till they tightened into hard knots. The Greek woman spent a large portion of the afternoon on the caresses best suited to enflame a man's member to stiff potency.
“After all,” Chloe explained, “a man who rules a harem must sport a rod like a bull since he will use it every night. Yet even the most potent male is prone to occasional failure. A favorite is one who knows how to make him rise without effort on his part. And woe betide the odalisque who causes the master's rod to fall.”
“But why is the woman blamed for the man's failure?” Valdis asked. “That's not fair.”
“Fair or not, the fault will assuredly be assigned to her, not him. She will be banished to the far corner of the zenana, never to be called for again. If that happens, a woman is as good as dead, for she is fit for nothing but drudgery and servitude. But cheer up, my dove,” Chloe said. “That fate will not claim you, not with the tricks I will teach you to harden your master's resolve.”
Valdis didn't think Erik would need such coaxing. She'd felt his groin stiffen when they kissed without any encouragement on her part. Still, she wanted to try some of her newfound knowledge on him, just to see his reaction. Maybe even the part about using her tongue....
Of course, she must guard the flower of her womanhood, but the preliminaries would be tantalizing enough. Hadn't Erik told her he could give her pleasure without disturbing her flower? Now she was armed with the knowledge of how to please him, as well.
After the knee to his groin, she had a bit to atone for, and she looked forward to it.
Valdis sighed and trudged back to her sleeping couch. She sank into the fine linens, telling herself to enjoy the sleek coolness on her skin. “Seize the joy in each moment,” Chloe had admonished her. There was wisdom in the Greek woman's teachings; if only Valdis could put them into practice.
The scrape of a booted foot on her threshold made her bolt upright. He was framed in the open doorway, moonlight dusting his hair and broad shoulders with silver. His face was hidden in shadow, but when he pushed back the gauze curtain and stepped inside, the whites of his eyes gleamed, flashing feral in the dark.
She ran to his side, her heart skipping like a kid in the meadow. Steady, she ordered herself. This is only about pleasure.
“Valdis.” He moved to embrace her, but she straight-armed him and put a finger to his lips. She eased the door closed behind him, then knelt to unlatch his boots and help him out of them. The last thing she needed was for Damian to hear her Northman stomping around. While she helped him toe off his boots, he ran his large hand over the crown of her head with such tenderness, her insides melted at his touch.
“We must be quiet,” she whispered when she straightened to look up at Erik. His eyes were dark with excitement already, but she was determined to use the new knowledge she'd gained to heighten his pleasure further. “I wish I had music, but you will just have to imagine it.”
Valdis began her dance of seduction, but Erik grasped both her wrists and pulled her to his chest.
“What do you think you're doing?” he demanded in a furious whisper.
“I'm dancing for you. Doesn't it please you?”
“Just to look at you pleases me. I need no whore's tricks. If we are to do this, let it be just us—one man, one woman. I'll not share a bed with both you and your odalisque teacher. Honest and open, with no feigned passion,” he said. “I'm here for you, not for something Chloe has taught you.”
“But Chloe said—”
“Chloe's not the one I want to bed.” Erik's breath was warm on her face. “It’s you, Valdis.” He caressed her name. “I've wanted you since I laid eyes on you, but not if we aren't to have anything true pass between us. Let it be real or let me walk out that door right now.”
Moonlight shafted in through the windows, casting its pure radiance on his square, open features. She lifted a hand to stroke his jaw, his neatly trimmed beard a bristly pelt beneath her palm. The raw hunger in his eyes threatened to buckle her knees. He wanted her. Her. Not the sexual romp she'd been trained to give him.
She stood on tiptoe to bring her lips to his in the slightest brush of a kiss.
“We'll have it true,” she agreed.
He was on her then, claiming her mouth, pouring the frustrated lust of the past weeks into a kiss that threatened to draw her soul from her body. Then he suddenly pulled back, as if reining in a warhorse.
“This much is true, then,” he said hoarsely. “You are pledged to go to another, and only oath-breaking could change that. My honor is little enough, but it's all I have. I cannot change your destiny. I can offer you nothing but this night.”
“I would not have you break your oath for me. Freedom waits for me if I earn it myself.” She kissed him softly, letting her body melt into his. “But if I am to go to another, let me take this night with me. Should I go through life never knowing tenderness, never knowing anything real? Love me now, Erik, even if it's only for now, and it will be enough.”
He folded her into his arms and their mouths met. He held her head immobile while his tongue played a lovers game with her lips, teeth and tongue. She reciprocated, darting her tongue between his lips till he groaned into her mouth. The kisses sent a message to her womb, rippling through her with the crackle of heat lightning. She felt a growing warmth between her legs.
He clasped her hands, their fingers entwined for a moment. Then slowly, he slid his calloused palms up her bare arms and skimmed his fingertips over the thin bones that ran from her shoulders to the hollow at the base of her throat. His touch left a trail of sparks on her skin.
“You're so beautiful,” he whispered between kisses. “And so soft.” He released her mouth long enough to bend down and pull her night shift over her head. A slight breeze wafted in through the open window, cooling her fevered skin.
Erik stepped back a pace, drinking in the sight of her. The heat in his eyes branded her as his gaze traveled over her breasts, down her ribs to the indentation of her navel, to the crisp golden triangle of curls covering her sex.
“My turn,” she said, as she tugged his shirt over his head. She stared at him as well, taking in the battle-hardened lines of him, his broad, heavily muscled chest and tapering waist. He stood perfectly still and let her look. Solid, strong, proud—he was everything she knew about a man.
She wanted to know more.
When she reached to untie the drawstring at the waist of his trousers, he caught her hand. “Careful. You have a maidenhead to guard. If you want to still be as you are now by the end of this night, one of us needs to stay dressed from the waist down.”
She sighed in disappointment.
“But that doesn't mean we can't take turns,” he said with a grin.
She stepped into his waiting arms.
Valdis was engulfed by this man, drowning in the sharp tang of his masculine smell, her skin tingling where his fingertips trailed, her nipples hardened against his chest. All the amatory arts she'd been taught fled from her mind. Instead, she learned Erik by heart, discovering clenched muscle beneath taut skin, finding old scars on his ribs and healing them with a lover's kiss.
All the tender places his gaze had touched his hands now explored. The rough calluses at the base of his fingers set her skin afire. He whispered her name, over and over. It played in her head like waves beating against a rocky shore. When his fingers finally claimed the cleft between her legs, he found a warm, wet welcome. Erik dropped to his knees before her.
Valdis gasped as his tongue invaded her. Chloe failed to mention this! Odin! What is he doing to me? He stroked, he nibbled, he took her tender spot between his lips and suckled.
She ground her teeth together to keep from crying out as she twisted her fingers in his hair. Her belly clenched as her insides knotted tighter and tighter. She was stretched thin as a piece of parchment. Then in a blinding heartbeat, the knot loosened and the cord of her being began to unrave
l, snapping like a whip cracked over a speeding chariot team. She would have collapsed, but Erik caught her before she fell. Her head lolled back as he carried her to her couch and stretched her out. She didn't care what he did with her. Her spirit wandered along the outstretched limbs of the World Tree Yggdrasil, trembling with joy.
When she fluttered back to herself, she found Erik standing over her, a smug grin on his handsome face. He knew full well he'd sent her halfway to Valhalla without so much as hearing a Valkyrie's song.
She lifted her arms to him in invitation. Erik didn't hesitate. He settled on her and she gloried in the weight of his body. He kissed her again, with more urgency this time, and she tasted herself on his mouth, musky and pungent.
“You are delicious.” He trailed a series of baby kisses down her neck, along her jawline and finally nipped at her earlobe. “Everywhere.”
“What did you do to me?” she asked, her heart still banging against her ribs.
“Liked that, did you?” He stroked her belly. “Want to go again?”
In answer, she pulled his head down and kissed him hard, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. She felt his deep, self-satisfied chuckle.
“Remember that for later,” he ordered. “Roll over.”
Obediently, she turned onto her stomach. Erik pushed her hair out of the way and ran his warm hand down the length of her spine. His fingers teased the crevice of her buttocks and traced the curve of those mounds. Tingles of pleasure streaked over her.
Valdis surrendered to his gentle exploration, spreading her legs for his invasion. He tugged at her small hairs, teasing her cleft from this backward angle. She rose to his hand, giving him unfettered access to all her secrets. She was tinder waiting for the spark. But before he pushed her into the void once more, he rolled her back over and kissed her.
He settled his hand over her hot mound. “Now, you're in control,” he said. “My hand will move again only when and how you kiss me.”
