Ravished by a Viking

by Delilah Devlin

  “Your concubine?” she said slowly. In a heartbeat, her features tightened. Her breathing hitched.

  Again, he held still, his gaze searching hers. Better for her to know now than to think he had misled her. “I am a king among my people. I am entitled to many wives and concubines. I have only two who serve me. A modest number.”

  She nodded—too quickly—and glanced away.

  He considered telling her now that she’d have that same place of honor in his household, but something made him stop.

  Too much, too soon. They barely knew each other, and there was still so much to be done.

  Honora pushed up from the step. “We should have a plan,” she said, her voice brisk. “For how we will approach Karthagos’s secure airspace. They will see a Consortium ship, hear your very unlikely story that you captured it, and be suspicious this might be a trap. The Consortium has rumbled for decades about launching a new offensive to increase their territory. We should agree on a strategy now.” She paused beside the captain’s chair and gave Cyrus a pointed stare. “Cyrus, since you’re so good at subterfuge, you should probably join us.”

  Cyrus’s mouth tightened for a moment, then eased slowly into a smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment, wench.”

  “Talking like a pirate already,” she muttered.

  When she’d passed him, Cyrus winked. “I need to pierce my ears.”

  “That’s not what I’d pierce,” Honora said, giving him a false smile over her shoulder.

  Dagr laughed and clapped a hand on Cyrus’s shoulder. “Find Frakki. We’ll meet in the canteen.”

  Every Viking not needed to keep the ship secure ringed the table where Dagr, Honora, Frakki, and Cyrus sat.

  With Turk guarded but at the controls, the rest met to devise a plan to capture the civilian transport ship at the dock in Karthagos. They’d hashed through the details of acquiring permission to dock, but now haggled over who would be part of the delegation to barter for the information they needed to find the ship.

  “I should accompany you,” Honora said, bracing for an explosion.

  Dagr’s glare was as sharp as his name. “You’re a prisoner. You’ll remain aboard this ship.”

  Honora blew hot. She leaned over the table and tapped it with her forefinger. “A prisoner who is the captain of the hostages.” She leaned back, and took a deep breath. “They will expect you to keep me close and to flaunt my capture. And you’ll need me there to prove up your claim.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She knew she had him now. He might struggle with his desire to keep her, a woman, safe, but the mission came first. “They will suspect this is a Consortium trick. A Trojan horse.”

  The blank look he gave her said he hadn’t a clue what she was talking about. The most famous battle in her people’s history before their exodus into space, and the barbarians had never heard of it.

  “In our legends, a wooden horse was left at the gates of a great city-state as tribute, left by the warriors the city-state defeated. The horse was enormous and the Trojans rolled it through the gates, where they let it sit as a symbol of their victory while they drank and feasted. But when the celebration fires died that night and everyone slept, the men hidden inside that great horse escaped. They opened the gates and let in the Greek army, who then sacked the city.”

  “They will think this ship is a Trojan horse,” Dagr said quietly. “That Consortium soldiers will sneak into their midst.”

  “Yes. You can’t let me remain aboard my own ship. You need me as a hostage while you meet with the men who hold the captives to prove your strength.”

  “Why can’t Baraq pretend to be the captain?”

  “Because there is likely already a bounty on this ship. And my name will be out there.” She grimaced at the thought of the heads nodding, memories nudged to recall her father’s shame. “They’ll know you lie if you tell them Baraq is the captain.”

  He leaned forward, his pose challenging. “Why couldn’t I tell them I killed you in the taking of the ship?”

  She inhaled, thinking hard, but in the end shrugged. “Baraq is in charge of security. He doesn’t know as much about the ship as I do. It wouldn’t be believable that you killed me, but kept him alive. He’s not essential to you.” She held his stare, daring him to tell her she exaggerated to serve her own agenda.

  He remained silent so long, she had to resist the urge to fidget beneath his fixed stare.

  “Shouldn’t I fear that you will tell them I’m not a pirate?” he asked softly, but with each word so distinct that no one doubted his anger. “That I seek vengeance against the hunters who stole my people?”

  Honora raised her chin higher, unwilling to be cowed. She wasn’t some soft, petted concubine. She hadn’t earned her rank by showing weakness. “You will tell them the truth. Your brother is among the captives taken by the bounty hunters, and the Black Wolf will capture a dozen Consortium ships if he must to rescue him. You aren’t a pirate because you are born to it, Dagr. You are defined by the actions you take. They believe in vengeance. They honor strength and ruthlessness.”

  “Will they not think me weak if they see you unharmed, walking beside me?”

  She cleared her throat, wincing at the glee he might evince at her next suggestion. “You can’t show me mercy or compassion in their presence.”

  His eyes glinted. “Have I ever? Truly?”

  Honora felt the sting of his softly spoken barbs. He was angry because he didn’t want her with him. He also didn’t like that she was right and argued with him in front of his men. She gave him a fierce glare. “You will have to try harder to convince them.”

  Dagr grunted, and Cyrus chuckled.

  She aimed a sharp glance at her old friend. “You’re coming with us. The maps you’ve drawn tell me you’ve been here before.”

  Cyrus gave a sharp shake of his head. “Can’t.”

  “He must stay aboard the ship,” Dagr said, his tone brooking no argument.

  Honora’s back stiffened with stubbornness. “But that doesn’t make sense. He knows the terrain.”

  “A bounty is posted for his return to this very planet.”

  She swung toward Cyrus. “Is this true?”

  “First, you’re pissing off Dagr by doubting his word—but that’s not my problem.” Cyrus leaned back in his chair and his expression turned sour. “After I was sentenced for disobeying that order, I was pressed into service aboard a private frigate. They bought my sentence. When they docked at Karthagos, I jumped ship.”

  He shook his head, disgust curling his upper lip. “Like an idiot, I got drunk and recaptured, but this time, I was enslaved by a woman pirate. When I escaped her clutches, I headed to the one place I knew even pirates feared going.”

  Dagr smiled his approval. “You see the courage he displayed—coming to New Iceland and facing barbarians, then leaving the safety of our world again to aid me. Do you see why I trust him?”

  Honora released a pent-up breath. “He stays, then.”

  Dagr arched a brow. “You take charge naturally. But you do know it is only because I allow it.”

  Blood thumped through her body. “I would think you’d want the person most qualified to draw up this plan.”

  “Most qualified. And yet you also have never been here.”

  She didn’t bother reminding him that at least she’d known what Karthagos was. When she saw his smile deepening, she felt heat creep across her cheeks. He was teasing her. In front of all of them—amused by someone so small and so female addressing tall, hairy barbarians like a field marshal.

  She pressed her lips together to still her own smile and caught his slow wink.

  “I will go.” This flat statement came from Birget on the edge of the circle surrounding their table.

  Humor fled Dagr’s expression in an instant, and he slammed his fist on the table.

  Honora jumped, but Birget merely smirked.

  Dagr’s nostrils flared. The sharp glance he
shot the Viking princess would have cowed anyone else, but Birget stubbornly jutted her chin higher.

  “Must you defy me again?”

  The princess shrugged, completely unperturbed by his show of temper. “You know that I will only escape.” Her eyes widened innocently. “Then I would be on my own and unprotected.”

  Dagr growled, his face turning an alarming shade of red. “Birget!” But he seemed at a loss to say more as he gnashed his teeth audibly.

  Birget lost the mocking expression. “I would see this feral outpost. And I can lend my weapon. Is this place truly so treacherous that a Viking should fear it? Especially a Valkyrja?”

  Eyebrows bunched, Dagr turned his gaze back to Honora.

  His brooding expression told her that he blamed her for this insurrection. She fought a smile. She’d bet money he’d never been defied before, but here two “weak” women tested him at every turn.

  Dagr’s shrewd gaze landed on Baraq, who stood next to the Viking princess, his expression carefully neutral. “You will be her personal guard. If anything happens to her, I will flay the skin from your body.”

  Baraq caught Honora’s gaze. She gave him a subtle nod, surprised he still sought her approval when she was as much a captive as he was.

  “It’s decided,” Dagr said, looking around the circle. “Frakki will be in charge of defending the ship against any security breaches. Cyrus will monitor all traffic on the airwaves and oversee the unloading of the ore, if we manage to strike a deal. We four will disembark with an additional two of my own guard to watch our backs.”

  With plans laid, Honora slumped at the table, still not believing she’d won. She didn’t watch the group as they left because she was weary from schooling her face into a hard mask.

  When the last set of footsteps shuffled out, she sighed and pushed up from the table. Silence surrounded her. Silence and solitude. Something she needed now to gather her thoughts and prepare herself for what was ahead. So much had happened in the space of a couple of days.

  She busied herself pouring a cup of kava from the large urn beside the entrance to the dining room, hoping for a few minutes of alone time. Her stomach gurgled and she laughed, remembering she hadn’t eaten since rising that morning with Dagr. Their quick repast hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy. She’d burned substantial calories.

  A broad hand slid over her hip.

  She didn’t jerk in surprise, because part of her had known he’d stayed behind. He hadn’t let her out of his sight for more than a quick trip to the head since they’d first squared off against each other at the taking of her ship.

  “You will pour me one,” Dagr said, his body blanketing her back.

  She didn’t mind that he didn’t really ask or say please when the heat of his large palm, as it smoothed around her waist, soaked right through her skin. She handed him her cup and reached for another.

  “I regret that you are the captain of this ship.”

  Her glance snapped to his face. The sharp intelligence in his cold blue eyes softened the longer his gaze held hers. How had she ever thought him primitive? “Why do you regret it?”

  “I don’t want you in harm’s way. I have put you there.”

  Her body melting at the low, rumbling tone, she forced herself to challenge him. “Because I’m a woman?”

  His jaw tightened, and he gestured for her to take a seat, then sat beside her. He looked incongruous. A Viking in fur and tanned skins, holding a mug that looked small inside his large hand.

  She took a sip from her own cup, which she held in both hands.

  “How do you suggest I show no mercy?”

  So that was what bothered him. She suppressed a smile. “Same as you would with any other prisoner.”

  “I don’t fuck other prisoners. And I can’t beat you.”

  “But you can be physical. Put me on a leash, chain me. Jerk me occasionally. It’s a feral colony; they will understand the implication.”

  “What exactly does ‘feral’ mean?”

  “You’ve led a sheltered life, Viking.” She waved a dismissive hand. “The streets of many frontier planets are mean, dangerous. A feral colony has the added risks associated with the outcasts of the feral experiments.” At his deepening frown, she relented in her teasing. “They are hybrid humans. Mixed with animal DNA. Mostly from Earth—your Midgard.”

  “Midgard.” He leaned forward. “It still exists?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “The planet’s so very far away, and the Consortium leaders who brought us don’t permit travel to that part of the universe. But like your people, ours brought animals from there to populate Helios, to establish a familiar food supply, and to make Helios seem more like home. Those animals were used in the experiments.”

  “I hate admitting that I know little of the history of the Outlanders.”

  The way he spoke, as though realizing he’d made a mistake and was slightly stunned at the thought, made her smile.

  His dark brows drew together. “I have never had an interest in learning because I spend so much of my time worrying about the present and the future of my people. Were your ancestors also enslaved when they were brought to the stars?”

  Honora set her cup on the table and hunched toward it. “They were captured, plucked from sailing ships, but they were allowed their freedom after a time, after our captors were sure we’d embrace our relocation. Helios was a lush planet. Warm. Rich with natural resources. We adapted and thrived.”

  “Then why were we enslaved?”

  With a shake of her head, Honora sighed. “The old guard of the Consortium wasn’t responsible. Heliopolites, my people, insisted. I think it’s the nature of humans. We’re greedy. We like our comforts. And we wanted to control the price of the ore, to reap all the profits. We couldn’t find cheap enough labor willing to work in the severe conditions of New Iceland. So my ancestors remembered stories of barbarians who lived in Earth’s colder climates and convinced Consortium officials to let them send anthropologists to study your culture and figure out a way to get you to willingly come through the portal and do the work.”

  “You should have remembered that men will always strive for freedom. Whatever the cost.”

  Why did she feel guilty over her ancestors’ decision? She hadn’t been alive, had had nothing to do with enslaving the Vikings and forcing them to work on that inhospitable planet.

  Then the image of the captive she’d seen rose in her mind, his stark blue eyes, so like the ones watching her now, looking up at her from where he lay naked on the floor of his cage. The man could have been Dagr’s brother. Nausea twisted her stomach. “Those on Helios don’t know the conditions you live in, don’t understand anything but how much they have to pay for their comfortable lives. They won’t rest until you’re brought to heel.”

  Dagr’s gaze rose from his nearly empty cup. “Is this the way you feel about us? That we are barbarians who should be grateful to work as slaves beneath the ice?”

  “I have to admit,” she said honestly, acknowledging what her answer said about her strength of character, “I never gave it much thought. I just followed orders.”

  He set aside the cup. The firm line of his mouth indicated he hadn’t liked her admission. “We call you Outlanders,” he said, his tone brusque, argumentative.

  She wasn’t going to take the bait—but only because she wanted to annoy him. “I know. It’s quaint. But not too specific. There are an endless multitude of species that operate in the known universe. We’re human like you, and our origin was also Earth.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “Anyone, anything, not of our world is Utlending—Outlander.”

  “You say that like it’s a curse.”

  “We mean it as one.”

  They squared off again. Both their faces set, their gazes warring but not relinquishing.

  “We’d better find restraints for you to wear,” Dagr growled, ending the contest.

  Honora wrinkled her n
ose, inwardly groaning because the first wave of heat washed over her. “You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you?”

  “For however long we are on the planet,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “you will have to do everything I say without complaint, or I will punish you.”

  She sucked her lower lip between her teeth. “Why is it that I just creamed?” she whispered.

  “It’s because now you know that I will dare much to make you admit your need for discipline. I will find your limits and exploit them.” His large body leaned closer.

  Which caused a corresponding increase in her body’s temperature. How did he do that? “Do we have time?”

  He took her mug and set it aside, then lifted her to sit her on the table. When he pushed her to lie back, she didn’t hesitate. “Someone might walk in,” she said, turning her head to give him access to her neck where he bit the cords of her tendons and licked his way down to the top of her suit.

  His hands slid under her outer layer of clothing and closed around the breast covered in the skin-suit. “Have I mentioned how much I hate this thing?” he said, plucking it and letting it snap back against her body.

  The sting excited her. She inserted her hand between their bodies and cupped his sex, which twitched and hardened as she squeezed. “Maybe we should go back to my room.”

  “Cyrus is outside the door. No one will pass.”

  Her eyes widened. “How did he know to do that?”

  “He had only to watch my gaze fall on you while my frowns deepened to know what you were doing to me.”

  She feigned a scowl. “I didn’t do anything to you except talk sense.”

  Dagr kissed the tip of her nose, then bit it. “You defied me. Again. You know I don’t want you anywhere near danger, and yet you continue to put yourself in its path.”

  Humor drained from her as she thought about what lay ahead for her. “I have little to live for as it is, Dagr. Would you deprive me of even this small adventure?”

  “You have so little to live for? Because of me? Because I took your ship?”

  “Yes. You don’t think my command will let me return to it once you’re through and spit us back, do you?”