Ravished by a Viking

by Delilah Devlin

  He slowed his thrusts and lay over her back to whisper in her ear. “Do you think she even let him come before she activated the transporter? Should I let you find your pleasure, Lady Captain?”

  Eight

  Honora dragged in ragged breaths, trying to hold on to the conversation, knowing he was revealing something to her, knowing he wanted to punish her, but she was too close to the edge to really hear him.

  “Don’t stop.” She gasped.

  “I should stop. I should ring my cock and pull away now ... just to punish you. But I won’t because I can’t. Your pleasure is mine.” He slammed harder, slapping the skin of her bottom with his belly and groin.

  Anyone in the barracks would hear them, but she was past caring. The sensations were too delicious, too powerful—like his strong, jarring strokes that crowded her channel to bursting.

  “Dagr, gods, end it,” she cried out, bunching the blanket in her fists.

  “Finger yourself,” he growled.

  Her face sank into the bedding and her fingers rooted between her legs to circle on the hard little knot. The friction he built with his harsh thrusts and the coiling tension she drew with each frantic swirl had her arching, moaning, mindless while he hammered her pussy until at last she screamed.

  When hot cum jetted inside her, she slumped beneath him, breathing hard, her nipples raw and itching from the blanket she’d writhed upon.

  His breaths gusted against her neck, a jagged texture to them that she found faintly alarming. She wished for a kiss, a little softness after the harshness of this taking, so she was disappointed when Dagr pulled away, rising swiftly behind her.

  “Dress.”

  “Strip, dress,” she muttered with a wag of her head and pushed off the bed. She bent to grab her uniform from the floor and tugged it over her curves.

  She went still when she noted the pallor of his face. His eyes glittered angrily as they swept the room. Bleakness that squeezed her heart entered his expression.

  He’d lost his brother here. He’d wanted to punish one of those responsible, but she knew now he couldn’t be completely ruthless. At least not with her.

  The leader of the Wolfskins could have taken his pleasure and been done. Could have humiliated her in untold ways. He could have strangled her and no one would blame him.

  Instead, he’d allowed her pleasure, holding back until she came. Not that she thought for a second she really knew what was inside him or what kind of man he truly was. But she was beginning to learn.

  Tugging the slide upward to close her suit, she wondered how she would have treated him if the roles had been reversed, but couldn’t imagine it. She had no family—only a father who had disgraced himself and whose memory she had sought to obliterate from the annals by being the best, the most loyal of officers.

  In the end, her loyalty hadn’t been prized, hadn’t been respected. It had been turned on her. She’d been sacrificed, and for what?

  “Are you ready?”

  Lost for a moment, she glanced up, blinking, but firmed her mouth at his cold expression and nodded.

  Back at the cavern entrance, Honora colored beneath Baraq’s knowing glare. He didn’t say a thing, just turned silently to follow Dagr into the cavern and bent to pick up the handle of the hand truck where it rested in the dirt.

  At the time promised, the portal opened in the center of the cavern, growing from a small blue, two-dimensional circle and stretching outward. It lit up beside Dagr, the blue and white light so bright it blinded.

  Honora squinted against it. Dagr waved her through. She glanced to Baraq, who gripped the handle of the hand truck with both hands behind him. He leaned forward, gritting his teeth, and dug his toes into the dirty, pulverized stone on the cave floor, pulling so hard muscles bulged across the tops of his shoulders, and his face reddened with the strain. But the dark scowl on his face said he wouldn’t be defeated.

  He dug deeper and took a step forward, then another.

  Honora glanced at Frakki and caught him watching Baraq, a reluctant smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. He noticed her stare and shrugged. “He would make a good Icelander.”

  Honora shook her head. Men, no matter the race, were all the same. She stepped through the portal and onto the solid metal flooring in the hold of her ship.

  A quick glance around told her all was well, all systems running along nicely. But her crewmen were still lined up in two rows to the side of the long cargo bay.

  Baraq growled behind her, pulling the truck, his body bent toward the floor, but he didn’t stop until Dagr shouted, “You are clear.” He let go of the handle and stood, his chest heaving, head hanging.

  Dagr strode up beside him and clapped his shoulder. Then he glanced behind him at the Viking princess. “Birget, come with me.”

  Honora stiffened, an unwanted flash of jealousy causing a twinge inside her chest.

  Baraq stared after the blond woman, still gasping for breath, then looked up at Honora. “Don’t lose sight of who he is and what he seeks. If he makes use of you, don’t let it confuse you into thinking you can earn his trust.”

  “You think I don’t know it’s just sex?”

  “Do you? I saw your face when you came back from the barracks. You looked shattered. Not an expression you ever wore after I had you.”

  Frakki pushed at Baraq’s shoulder. “Move along. We need the portal cleared.”

  Honora glanced back and saw that the men were being herded into the portal, blinking out as they passed. Her breath hitched in her chest. She couldn’t stand idly by and watch her people disappear.

  “Why so many?” she asked, rushing to Frakki who stood to the side of the portal and watched her men file through.

  Frakki pushed her behind him.

  Her people filed by, white-faced, their gazes straight ahead and not meeting hers. After the last man passed through, the portal closed.

  “Why aren’t Baraq and I going with them?” she asked Frakki.

  Frakki didn’t answer her. He gave a wave to Cyrus, who still stood in the window of the transporter room.

  Baraq grasped her forearm and pulled her away, walking her toward the ladder. He leaned in to whisper, “Dagr knows we’re smart enough to figure out that we don’t really have anything left to fight him for at this point. And he needs us to help run this ship. Cyrus has likely told him how few of us are really needed to navigate and keep basic systems running. We, the ones left behind, will be doing the grunt work.”

  Honora inhaled. “The air stinks here. He was right to move the men off. Atmospherics couldn’t wash the air fast enough to accommodate everyone.”

  Baraq grunted. “Their world. It’s harsh. But you’re right. It smelled good.” He placed his hand at the small of her back, and gave her a look that dared her to reprimand him.

  She’d never have allowed the familiarity in public before, but she wasn’t the captain anymore, and she didn’t know what role she could assume. Baraq and she were in the same boat, and it was nice to share the ride with a friend, with someone she could trust.

  The next time Eirik awoke, clothes were tossed at him through the bars.

  “Dress quickly,” Fatin said, her words clipped.

  The clothes would certainly help ward off the chill, but he didn’t like the greedy way her gaze ate him up when he shoved back the blanket.

  He also didn’t like the way his cock stirred, less disgusted with her interest than big Eirik was. “So she is beautiful,” he muttered, staring at his cock, “but she is also a psychotic bitch.”

  Fatin’s laughter was low and dirty. “Hurry. And don’t worry about your cock. He’s just what I want.”

  A chill bit his spine, but he grabbed the clothes as he scanned the area. She was armed this time ... She was going to open the door of his cage.

  As though she read his mind, she smirked. “This weapon will drop you like a stone,” she said, bracing an elbow at her hip to raise the nozzle of the weapon skyward. “And I do kn
ow how to use it. I’d just hate wasting prime procreational material,” she said, gazing at his cock again.

  He pulled the trousers she’d provided over his hips. They were gathered at the waist rather than buttoned or tied, for ease of removal, he guessed. He pulled the knit shirt over his head, and before he’d finished tugging it to his hips, the gate of his cage clicked and creaked open.

  Fatin waved him out and gestured for him to walk toward the other end of the cargo bay.

  His bare feet padded on cool metal flooring. He walked past other cages, catching glimpses of the men with whom he hadn’t had a chance to speak and share intelligence because he’d been unconscious so long. They didn’t meet his gaze, which worried him.

  This cargo hold was smaller, dirtier than the one he’d originally woken inside. The air smelled like petroleum and sulfur. Had they been transporting crude explosives?

  The nozzle of her stun rifle poked at his back. “Turn right at the end of the walkway.”

  Eirik studied his surroundings, committing them to memory. If he got the chance to stage a mutiny, he’d need to know everything he could about this ship.

  He turned right into a brightly lit, sterile room. A middle-aged woman in a white apron and gloves waited there, her eyes widening as they slid over his frame. “You weren’t kidding when you said he was a prize. Get him into the stocks.”

  Fatin poked at his back, but he dug in his heels. He saw the contraption the woman meant and understood its use. “I will not,” he gritted out furiously.

  Fatin walked around him. “You will, or Miriam there will stick you again.”

  He cast a glance at the other woman. She held a long stick with a syringe at the end, much like the sticks his own people used when they conducted studies of the animals in the subterranean forests. No doubt the syringe contained a sedative.

  “Do you really want to lose more days?” Fatin said softly.

  Eirik lifted his upper lip in a snarl, but dragged his feet on the ground as he headed toward the stocks. Scowling to let her know how much he hated this, he raised his hands while she closed the locks around his wrists.

  Miriam leaned her stick against a counter. Fatin placed her weapon on a bench. Then she strode toward Eirik and grasped the waist of his pants and dragged them down.

  Eirik ground his teeth, heat filling his cheeks at the indignity. He stood with his pants around his ankles and still his cock rose, eager for Fatin’s attention.

  Miriam approached with a vial in her hand. “Do you want me to milk him?”

  Eirik gave Fatin a dark glare. She snorted, then shook her head. “I’ll handle this. I know what he likes.” She leaned close and dropped her voice. “Don’t I, lover?”

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked just as quietly.

  Her smirk faded. “You have something the Consortium will pay top dollar for.”

  “My seed?”

  “And your handsome body. They’ll steal your seed, but they’ll also enslave you for their pleasure.”

  “How can you do this to a man?”

  “You never questioned how Fatin the sex-thrall came to be in the miner’s camp. Did you care? Give it even a moment’s thought?” Her lips curled in disgust.

  Eirik went still, watching her expressions and realizing she had reasons other than money for what she did. Reasons he probably didn’t want to discover, because he didn’t want to feel guilty over killing her.

  Fatin wrapped her fingers around his cock, and Eirik sucked in a sharp breath, wishing he could resist, but already his balls hardened.

  She drew the bench closer and sat at its edge, then leaned in and lapped at the crown of his cock. “They will love your body,” she murmured. “Maybe I will pay for its use when I visit Helios.”

  Her mouth clasped around him, suctioning, her tongue sliding over his cap, tucking into the sensitive slit. A small, warm hand wrapped around his scrotum and gently massaged and tugged his balls.

  His thighs tightened; his buttocks tensed.

  She grabbed his hips, centered herself, and bobbed forward, taking his cock deep into her mouth, past her tongue to the back of her throat. Then she swallowed, the action kissing his head, and she loosened inside, taking him deeper, taking all his length into her throat while she sucked harder. It felt as though she would suck the seed from his balls, so strong were her rhythmic pulls.

  He tried to resist, tried to think of something other than the way she worked him. He thought of Dagr and wondered what he was doing, whether he’d figured out what had happened. His brother wouldn’t rest until Eirik was found. How he wished he’d stayed with the men at the fire pit trading stories. How he wished he’d read the deception in Fatin’s eyes and thrust her away before she’d pricked him.

  In the end, he couldn’t fight her. Especially not when her hand released his balls, and fingers tucked between his buttocks. He roared when she penetrated his ass and fondled the gland inside him that conquered his control.

  He shot his seed into her mouth, his body bucking, rutting wildly until he’d given her everything she wanted of him.

  Fatin rose, held out her hand for the vial and spat into it. “We have to know you’re fertile.”

  Creamy liquid slipped down the side of the clear glass tube. His seed. “That’s all I am,” he gasped.

  “A whore? Yes.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’ll make me rich.” She came closer and kissed his mouth.

  Too wrung out to resist, he slanted his face and kissed her back, then rested his forehead against hers. “You do know you’ve kidnapped a noble,” he said quietly, locking his gaze with hers. “You’ll be hunted. This won’t be kept quiet.”

  She licked his earlobe and whispered, “That’s my hope, Eirik Wolfskin.”

  Dagr followed Birget as she stomped down the main artery corridor toward the bridge. Birget’s backside swayed temptingly as she swaggered, but not tempting for the reason she might have hoped.

  His hand itched to leave it reddened. The girl was spoiled. Her father hadn’t done her any favors. When his brother returned, they’d have to have long talk about how best to deal with Princess Birget.

  “You’re not going to the bridge,” he called after her. “You will only cause a distraction there.”

  She slowed and craned her head around, a brow rising. “Then where am I to be? Everyone else has their task.”

  “You were so eager to be aboard this ship, I’m assuming any purpose will serve. We have set the females of their crew to serve us in the canteen. You can supervise them.”

  “You want me to watch the women?” she asked, her voice rising. Her face suffused with brilliant color.

  Dagr continued, speaking in a calm, even tone as though he hadn’t a clue how furious she was. “My men and the remaining prisoners must be fed. Make sure food is taken to all of them at regular intervals. Is that too much responsibility to entrust you with?”

  Her lethal glare had the corners of his lips twitching.

  “Why not have your captain set to the task? She is also female and has caused even more trouble than I have.”

  Irritated now, Dagr curved his lips downward to let her see his displeasure. He wasn’t accustomed to having his decisions questioned or to justifying his actions. “I need to keep her close. She knows how the ship operates and her presence ensures the good behavior of her remaining crew.”

  She planted her hands on her hips and let loose. “Just because you fuck together does not mean you should put her above me. I am a princess, not a scullery maid.”

  Dagr stepped so close she had to tilt back her head to meet his gaze. “You are a woman who disobeyed the man responsible for your care,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “If you wish a different sort of punishment, I will oblige you.”

  The flame in her cheeks crept down her neck. Fury glittered in her eyes. However, she took a step back and straightened her shoulders. “I will see to the meals, but don’t expect me to remain in the kitchen all th
e time.”

  “Make sure everyone is fed and I’ll be satisfied.”

  She gave a curt nod. “Which way is the kitchen?”

  He lifted a brow and pointed down a corridor. “Acquaint yourself with the ship.” Then he turned on his heel, giving in to a grin because of the chagrin in her expression. Birget wasn’t accustomed to being governed. And she hadn’t liked being reminded of a first tenet of warfare—reconnoiter your surroundings.

  Heading back to the command deck, he pondered another problem. Birget hadn’t hidden her jealousy of the pretty captain. And he hadn’t missed Honora’s expression when he’d left with Birget. Women’s squabbles weren’t something he wanted to be in the middle of. With two strong-minded women in close quarters, he wondered if he shouldn’t take measures to ensure they were both kept busy.

  Once through the door, he spotted the large Outlander he’d battled. The man turned to watch as Dagr entered the bridge, his back stiffening.

  Honora kept her gaze on the viewing screen to the front of the deck, watching the stars and the spinning blue planet below them.

  “It is beautiful,” he said.

  “It’s not real,” she said, still staring at the screen. “Not an actual view of space. It’s a bioluminescent reflection. Microscopic creatures live inside that screen.”

  He grunted and moved away.

  Although most of the chairs were empty, the room still felt too small, choking. He stirred restlessly, walking the aisle in a circle, eyeing Honora—eyeing Frakki, who sat in one of the vacated chairs, looking ridiculous in his paint and battle gear with an expression of puzzlement on his face at the chirping lights that sounded from the console.

  “Don’t hammer them off,” Dagr said dryly.

  Frakki snorted, then grinned at Dagr. “Damned annoying.”

  Dagr aimed a glance at Honora, who watched him from beneath the fringe of her dark lashes. “Would you help?”