Love's Fury (Viking's Fury #1)

by Violetta Rand

  *

  If she let him between her thighs she’d burn in Hell forever. As if jolted from a dream, Silvia opened her eyes. “We cannot do this,” she said, suddenly aware of her vulnerability.

  But instead of stopping, he knelt at her feet, showering her navel with hot kisses.

  “Konal,” she said shakily. “Did you hear me?” Each kiss chipped away at her already weak resistance. Then she felt the moist warmth of his tongue around her belly button. His massive hands rested on her thighs. Seeing him posed so close to her nether region made her legs quiver. “Please…”

  He raised his head. “You didn’t dissuade me before,” he growled. “Do you know what danger you face allowing a man so close, then robbing him of the pleasure without good cause?”

  His fingernails dug into her skin and she acknowledged the rage in his steely blue eyes. “How could I know if I’ve never done this before?”

  His feelings were of no concern now, the sound of raucous laughter carried on the wind signaled the soldiers were close.

  “Damn you, woman.” He staggered to his feet, then yanked her skirt back down. “Consider this your only warning. Never tempt a man with honey unless you intend to give him the pot.”

  Feeling sufficiently humiliated, she said, “You’re cruel.”

  “Am I?” His warm breath raised gooseflesh on her neck. “And what do you consider yourself?” He guided her hand between his legs. “Touch me.”

  She shook her head. “Why do you tease me?”

  “The guards are getting closer … do it and I’ll leave you alone.”

  She stared at him disbelievingly. Misery stained his face. Of course her own body felt raw and unsatisfied. But she steeled herself against the temptation standing before her. If that’s what it took to make Konal go away, so be it. She cupped his manhood. A devilish smirk spread across his lips. Secretly, Silvia liked what she felt, and knew what to expect before she touched him.

  “You’ve acquired a taste for me.”

  “No,” she denied. “I meant only to prove my point from earlier. Men who brag about their size shouldn’t be trusted to tell the truth.”

  Chapter Eleven

  As Konal tossed and turned on his furs, he tried to banish Silvia’s last words from his mind. Did she find him inadequately sized? A virgin who’d never been kissed, much less seen a man naked. No. She’d intended to plant a seed of doubt in his bedeviled head. The girl knew how to make him suffer. He sighed and closed his eyes.

  Hours later, smoke choked him awake. He threw his furs off and scrambled to his knees, surrounded by a raging fire. The air reeked of pitch. Asleep only feet away, Konal screamed for Silvia to awaken.

  “Get up!” He grabbed what gear he could save and walked through the flame and smoke meant to claim his life.

  Then he rushed to Silvia, lifted her into his arms, and carried her to safer ground. “Stay here,” he said, then turned to the nightmare behind them.

  The horses were gone, probably scared away by whoever penetrated their camp. Konal cursed himself for sleeping so heavily and for relying on the protection of men he didn’t completely trust. Of the five guards, only Jahn had earned his respect on the battlefield. But he was nowhere to be found.

  With a full moon overhead and the flames consuming the dry vegetation around him, Konal had no problem identifying the bodies of three of his men. All murdered, throats cut with their swords still sheathed at their hips. Careless bastards. They’d never expected an attack judging by the half-empty wineskins scattered about. Though he never wished this type of death on anyone, had the Danes taken their responsibilities seriously, perhaps they’d still be alive. He rubbed his face with both hands, wondering who dared attack in the middle of the night.

  Before he returned to Silvia, he walked the perimeter of the camp, checking for any signs his enemies had left behind. Perhaps he was overthinking things. Raiders were everywhere, desperate Saxons and marauders who preyed upon unsuspecting travelers. But why cover the ground in pitch and set a fire?

  His destination wasn’t a secret in Jorvik. And as Prince Ivarr had observed, only half his men loved Konal and the rest wished him dead. After he claimed Ulf’s head, Konal was sure he’d made new enemies amongst the Danes, too. Then there was the matter of his lovely captive…

  Many reasons existed for someone to try and end his life. But tonight the gods had been generous, not only sparing him, but the beautiful Silvia as well.

  He found her wrapped in a fur and pacing nervously.

  “What evil has befallen us?” she asked, a look of relief on her face as soon as he appeared.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I have my suspicions. And in time, the guilty will be brought to justice. I swear it.”

  “You’ll find a sympathetic ear with me,” she said. “For I’ve lived my whole life under the threat of danger from the Danes.”

  “Aye.” She never missed an opportunity to lay her grievances at his feet.

  “Where are Jahn and the other guards?”

  “Three are dead, murdered where they sat.”

  “Jahn?”

  “Missing.”

  “Dear God.”

  “There is nothing else to be done until daylight. Sleep, Silvia,” he directed her.

  Luckily, the wind was blowing the acrid smoke in the opposite direction of where they stood. And by the look of it, the fire would burn out soon.

  “How can I close my eyes knowing someone is lurking in the shadows? What if they return for your blood?” she asked.

  “And yours.” He regretted it as soon as it slipped out of his mouth.

  She shivered. “Then give me a knife.”

  He laughed darkly. “We both remember what happened last time you held a blade in that lovely hand.”

  “Circumstances have changed.”

  “Have they?” He edged closer, his baser feelings surfacing again. Battle and death fueled his need for the touch of a woman. Especially this dark-haired beauty.

  “I am helpless in this place—without friends or home.”

  “You are the least helpless female I’ve ever met, Silvia. For your tongue is as deadly as a double-edged sword in the hands of the most seasoned warrior. How many times have you aimed your fury at me?”

  “I-I am truly sorry, milord.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  Suddenly exhausted, he sucked in a ragged breath. “All right.” He unsheathed the smallest of his blades and offered it to her. “Sleep with it close. If someone tries to harm you, aim for the ribs or heart. You’ll only get one chance, Silvia. Rely upon the element of surprise if you wish to live.”

  She accepted the weapon. “Thank you for trusting me.” Then she did something he never expected; she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “God be with you.”

  Within the hour, Silvia had fallen asleep under his careful watch.

  *

  Silvia felt as if she’d reached some kind of new understanding with Konal last night. Maybe the fear of the moment made her more conciliatory, realizing he was the only thing standing between her and the threat of death. She studied him with great interest as he ate a piece of bread and took a long drink from his wineskin.

  “Your eyes betray you once again,” he said without looking at her.

  More than irritated by the fact he seemed to know everything she did without needing to glance in her direction, she ignored his words. “Good morn.” She sat up.

  “Four of the horses have returned,” he offered. “But no sign of Jahn or Ansgar.”

  “Will we search for them?”

  “No.” He stood and stretched. “I followed a trail of blood at sunrise, but it revealed nothing. Our attackers may have taken them prisoner or perhaps we were betrayed.”

  “Betrayed?” That piqued her interest and she crawled from underneath the warmth of her furs. “Not all men pledge blind allegiance to my master?”

  He chuckled, his rugged face dar
k with several days’ worth of stubble. “I ask no one to follow me, Silvia. But if they choose to do so, loyalty is an unspoken expectation. I have cut down dozens of men for swearing falsely in the name of the gods. Dane or Norse, Saxon or otherwise.”

  She approached him tenuously, still intimidated by his hulking body and the way he stared at her whenever she came near. “I am hungry and thirsty.”

  He stepped out of her way, revealing a linen that he’d spread on the ground behind him, with a loaf of bread, dried fish, and cheese set out. “Tis not a feast, but it will quiet the rumbling in your gut.”

  She took the wineskin first and drank until her thirst was quenched. “Do we still ride for the coast?”

  “Aye,” he said. “I think it better to surprise my new tenants.”

  Once she finished eating, she packed the food and furs away, then readied herself, combed her hair and put her boots on.

  Konal inspected the horses and bags before he turned back to Silvia. “Today, you will ride with me.”

  She didn’t dare protest, and held up her hands, expecting to be bound.

  “There is no need,” he said. “If we are attacked on the trail, I would have you free and able to fight alongside me.”

  The prospect of being attacked frightened her severely. Though she’d grown accustomed to violence in her young lifetime, imagining it happening out here in the open, where there was nowhere to run, left her unsettled. But she’d never reveal that fear to Konal. He expected her to remain clear-minded and strong.

  He lifted her onto his steed, then mounted behind her. The other horses were tied together and would follow behind.

  “See the devastation?” he whispered in her ear. “You, too, were surrounded by flames.” He pointed to where her original sleeping spot had been.

  The earth was scorched black. She shuddered at the thought of being burned alive—a type of execution reserved for witches. Just above the devastated area, the hillside bloomed with life. Green grass and colorful wildflowers dotted the landscape. Even the sunshine seemed unusually healing this morning, warming her bone deep.

  “Thank you again,” she said sincerely. “If you hadn’t carried me away, I’m afraid I would have died in my sleep.”

  “Nothing will touch you as long as you stay with me, Silvia.” He wrapped one powerful arm about her waist, then gently tapped his heels against the horse’s sides. “Barbarian or not, I will protect what is mine to my very last breath.”

  Did he know how potent his words were? How deeply they affected her? That she was starting to believe in everything he said and did? That she admired him for not being like the other invaders?

  She suspected the heart of a true champion existed somewhere beneath his rough exterior. At least she hoped so, because someday in the near future, she would appeal to the gentler side of this warrior and ask for her freedom.

  Chapter Twelve

  Concerned for their safety, Konal elected to take a less traveled route to Filey. It meant an extra day of riding through the vale, but it seemed worth it, for any time alone with Silvia would get her closer to his bed. He could see it in her fathomless, blue eyes and in the way she carried herself now. Still cautious, but no longer terrified.

  As the sun set, he returned to the camp in the woods with two ducks he’d snared. Eating dried fish and hard bread for more than a couple days did not appeal to him. A hearty fire awaited and Silvia greeted him with a skin filled with water.

  “We’ll have fresh meat tonight,” he said, handing her the birds. “Do you know how to pluck feathers, little thrall? Or shall I teach you?”

  She sat down on a flat rock near the fire and held one of the birds up by its feet. “Once I finish with this,” she said with authority. “You may clip the wings and necks off.”

  A short time later, Konal chose a couple sturdy tree branches, and with his knife, split them into quarters to construct a spit and skewers. Once both birds were cleaned and cut properly, he shoved a thick branch through each carcass, following the spine, then fit the notched ends of the sticks onto the spit.

  “Turn the birds as often as possible so the meat cooks evenly,” he advised. “Now if you no longer require my assistance, I am going to take a bath.”

  “A bath?” She looked about. “Here?”

  “In the river.” Laughter rumbled in his chest. “Tis only a short distance away, Silvia. If you need me, call my name.” The wench had never said it before, only milord and master, or other vulgar words no girl should know. He longed to hear his name slip from her lips—preferably while he pumped inside her.

  Standing on the riverbank now, he breathed in the fresh air and appreciated how the frothy water tumbled over the moss-covered boulders. He’d braved the rapids of many waterways in Norway as a boy, learning to swim and control a small boat that way. A rite of passage any boy faced in order to become a man. And if he walked away without broken bones or a crushed skull, all the better.

  He stripped, then waded out. Not as frigid as the glacial rivers back home, but very satisfying. Scrubbing his face and body first, he paid careful attention to his underarms and between his legs. Saxons weren’t known for their cleanliness and it had taken the Danes a long time to teach them how to build a functional bathhouse. Another reason he longed for home.

  Just as he emerged from the depths, he caught a flash of blue fabric from the corner of his eye. He grinned, knowing it was Silvia hiding in the trees. Though she pretended to not be interested in his body, he’d caught her on more than one occasion studying his physique. A natural instinct for any woman her age. But once again, the monks had destroyed what the gods had intended as a gift for all men and women. Lust assured the White Christ’s followers a place in Hades.

  Just to satisfy her curiosity, he stood up slowly, raking his fingers through his shoulder-length hair. Then he turned around, facing away from her, and bent over, sure his legs were wide apart.

  “Good God,” he heard from the woods.

  “Is something amiss?” he asked, not moving.

  “Amiss?” Silvia repeated. “I cannot open my eyes until you come out of the water and dress.”

  Konal hadn’t laughed so hard in a long time. “Why are you here?” He straightened and twisted around, finding her standing in the open, her hands covering her face.

  “Looking for herbs and berries.”

  He tsked as he headed for shore, knowing it was too early in the year for wild berries. “From the moment we met, Silvia, I admired your indomitable spirit and will to survive, even your sharp tongue, but never thought you a liar.” He stood in front of her now, unashamed of his nakedness.

  Her eyes popped open, her hands fisted at her sides. “I am not a liar.”

  “No?” he asked, teasing her relentlessly. “What were you going to carry these berries in?” He eyed her head to toe.

  She didn’t attempt to answer his question.

  “Confess, Silvia. You were spying on me.”

  Her cheeks turned red. “And why should I do that?” Her gaze darted to his manhood, then back to his face.

  She’d get no sympathy from him. There was no relief for his own suffering unless she offered her body freely to him. “I desire you more than any woman, Silvia,” he said, all humor fading. “I want to kiss you. Touch you. Taste you. Fuck you.”

  “T-that cannot happen.”

  “Why?” He stepped closer and she edged back.

  “We are not promised in marriage.”

  “Forget what the priests taught you. Tis only us here, surrounded by nature. Even the beasts enjoy the gift of passion.”

  “So you admit you are as lowborn as a wild creature? Driven by instinct. Without a heart or conscience.”

  “I admit that I want you.” He cupped her cheek then, liking the heat and softness of her flesh. “And I know you feel the same.”

  Surprisingly, she didn’t reject his touch, only stood there, locked in an endless stare with him.

  “The meat will b
urn if I don’t get back to the fire.”

  “Let it.” He cradled her face with his other hand, his heartbeat thundering. “Feed me in a different way, Silvia.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because there isn’t another man in this Odinforsaken country that will treat you as tenderly as I will. Your pleasure is as important to me as my own. I will not fuck you and walk away. When it’s time for me to go, I will provide for your future care.”

  For a brief moment it appeared she was seriously considering his words. For her features softened a bit and her fingers trailed up his arm. “You are a handsome man,” she said. “Powerful and fierce, a jarl. And I am your unfortunate slave. That fact will never change. And knowing it breaks my heart. For I am freeborn. A follower of Christ. Not your lover.”

  She withdrew her hand.

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I wanted to be near you.”

  He lowered his head and kissed her softly, then separated from her a little so he could see her face clearly. “There is no reason to hide then.” Before she could speak, he kissed her again, finding her pink tongue.

  This kind of self-torture didn’t suit Konal. He wanted more of her—all of her if she’d just say yes. “Do you feel it?”

  “How can I not?” She gasped. “Tis wedged between our bodies.”

  He meant the mutual attraction. “Aye,” he acknowledged his erection. “I cannot hide the truth from you. No man can.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Yes, a deep ache.”

  She turned away. “I will finish preparing our meal.”

  “Aye,” he said, reaching for his tunic on the ground. “Run away, little thrall. Only a woman can handle what I have to offer.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  As Silvia chewed on the roasted duck, she kept sneaking looks at Konal. He’d returned from the river more silent then he’d ever been with her. Though she usually welcomed the peace, for reasons she didn’t know, she craved the familiarity of his rich voice. Regardless of their positions, master and slave, he often made her laugh and forget the pain of the recent days, if only temporarily.