His Captive (Historical Viking Romance)

by Amy Faye

Eventually, I passed the police station. A car pulled up as I walked towards Kallisti's Diner, and I felt nosy enough to see who was being brought in. It would probably be someone I didn't know, but I was curious anyway.

  As I turned to look and saw blond hair, my heart began to sink. His sharp jaw, stubborn and clenched with frustration. Bare arms, showing a new tattoo he received after I left. Brant Taggart, my first real love. Considering the others had cheated on me, he was my only real love.

  Something in my chest twisted when I saw that he was in handcuffs. There were dark circles under his eyes and something wild was struggling inside of him, I could tell. Something was making him angry. Against my better judgment, I wished that I could soothe those wounds.

  His hair was shorter than the last time I saw him. He had put on a lot of muscle, too, and was no longer some scrawny kid, but it was undoubtedly him. It was undoubtedly Brant.

  “Brant!” I cried out, but regretted it immediately.

  –

  Turning to whoever had called my name, time stopped and I was met with a face I never thought I would see again. I didn't even see her at her mother's funeral, though I went late.

  Vivian was as beautiful as I had remembered her. More beautiful than the dreams I still had of her. Her hair was longer, and while she didn't look older, she did look more mature. More sure of herself. That confidence made her curves much sexier than before.

  I could tell that seeing her was sobering me up. That numbness was gone, and pain was flooding in. Years without her, and I could still imagine the smell of her favorite perfume.

  “Hey, Viv,” I said, forcing a glib smile onto my face. The copper that had taken me by the arms pushed me forward into the police station. I kept my eyes on hers for as long as I could, focusing on those dark eyelashes and that slender face.

  When she left, she had promised to keep in touch with me, but I didn't blame her for not calling even once. She had places to go, things to do. She was going to be someone, but me? I was stuck in this tiny hellhole of a town, barely able to find work. Until I took up fighting, I was homeless. Now that I could beat people to shit for a living, I had plenty of money, but still not a lot of worth to a woman. Not to a woman as perfect as Vivian.

  There had hardly been a night where I didn't dream about her, about running my hands through her raven hair and feeling their soft waves tickle my cheeks as we kissed. Even when I was with other women, she was the only one I thought about.

  I thought she had been the one that got away. There was no doubt that she was the best woman I would ever meet, and the only one I ever wanted to settle down with.

  But she was back. She was back, and that meant he might have another chance. I had to grab that chance and run with it, because if I couldn't have her, I didn't want anyone else.

  As the barred door was shut behind me and the cop left me in the cold cell with 3 other drunks, there was a grin on my face. I might have a second chance!

  –

  My eyes remained on the spot Brant had just been in long after he was pushed into the police station as I tried to regain control of my own thoughts. My mind had gone blank when I saw him, and then it started to race.

  Turning back towards the diner, I tried to push the memory of his face out of my mind and, of course, failed miserably. “Come on,” I groaned, gritting my teeth. I didn't want to be one of those women that got caught up with an old fling.

  The fact remained that I didn't want to see him, and I just wanted to finish up with Mom's house so I could leave Bell Bend and get back to my normal life. I didn't even want to stay in Michigan for very long, and would much rather move down to Arizona or California if I could find a job in either place.

  That was how I was trying to convince myself to let Brant go, don't let him consume me again the way he had before I left. Instead of being able to forget him, though, I was glad that I got to see him again.

  When we first met in high school, I was at the park. I had been paid by another girl, popular and pretty, to do her homework, but when she showed up she had two other friends with her. She demanded her money back because she had been caught cheating.

  “I don't have the money,” I said. “I used it to buy my mom some flowers.” Her birthday was the next day, and thanks to the money I was able to do something nice for her. It felt adult, mature to do something without needing to ask my mother for her money first.

  “That's a shit excuse,” the girl had said. “Give me the money back, or you'll only have two choices: we beat your face in, or we tell the teacher you cheated off of us.”

  It was pretty clear that both of the latter choices were going to happen to me, and all I could do was cower and beg. That was, until someone else walked up and pushed the girl away from me. “You won't do either, and if you do, I'll make sure your dad finds out,” he had said.

  I looked up and saw a tall boy, thin as a lamppost, with a shaved head. The girls looked from him to me, then finally left. The boy turned to help me up, and I immediately kissed him.

  Brant had been my first kiss, and eventually, he was my first everything. I loved him so much in high school, but by the time I got to college I was ready to explore new things and breaking up with him seemed like such a hassle. I elected instead to just never contact him again.

  I was a horrible person, and that was a horrible thing to do. Seeing Brant then made that obvious. He used to be a good boy. Did things go wrong because I had abandoned him?

  What had Brant done to get in trouble with the law? Even if it was my fault in the end, I didn't want trouble. If he was being thrown in jail, it was probably for a good reason. Why should I jeopardize my future for some ex with a bad rap?

  I had abandoned him before, and this time I wasn't even abandoning him. Not really. I just would refuse to interact with him. That was easy enough, wasn't it?

  –

  I was let out of the drunk tank as the sun came up the next morning. Sleeping was hard with my back pressed against a corner, especially since the cement floor was damn cold, but I did manage to get an hour or two. Which was good because I had plans later that day.

  Going home to sleep was my number one goal. While my mind had been only on Viv for the whole night, I had something else to focus on.

  I was going to fight against one of my biggest rivals. Nathan Harwood, a big motherfucker that had 15 pounds on me. And 15 pounds was easily enough to knock me on my ass. I had to sleep as much as I could, get a good meal in me, and then mentally prepare before my fight at 9.

  There could be no pining over Vivian until the fight was over. If I won, that would be another 15 grand in my bank, and more reason to gloat. I swore that I wouldn't go out drinking so that I could avoid a fight that night.

  I probably wouldn't listen to myself, but it was nice to try.

  Seeing Vivian had put a lot of things into perspective for me. If I wanted even a chance with her, I had to seem like I was on the right track. She already saw me in handcuffs, so chances were slim that she would even talk to me, but I had to try. If I could get her to spend just one night with me, she might see whatever good I have left.

  She had always been good at that, seeing the parts of me that weren't broken. I had been battered and bruised by my father, my ego destroyed, but she never saw any of that. She only saw my potential, and I think she built more potential within me.

  That was why I was suddenly so determined. I had to show her, and myself, that she had been right. That I could be something. Maybe that something was just a world-class fighter, but if I won a few more local fights, my manager Gabriela was going to start pushing me onto national stages.

  I could be famous, and rich, in no time. I could offer Vivian an easy life if she wanted it, but I knew she wouldn't. She never wanted things to be easy. She wanted to work for it.

  So I would offer her an interesting life, hopefully by my side.

  It was dangerous to base so much of my hopes on her feelings for me, but what could I say? I had
never really stopped loving her. I was broken, but I could fix myself if she asked me to. I really could.

  And I would.

  I just needed to let her see me without my hands cuffed and being pushed round by a cop. That would be all it took, I was sure of it.

  Chapter Three

  The next day, I had to go back into town to find boxes I could use to pack things. The shops always had more boxes than they could ever use, and I was walking away from just two shops with more than I could really carry.

  I had made it a few steps before I bumped into something heavy and hard. Looking up over the brown cardboard, I saw those fierce eyes staring down at me. “Brant,” I whispered, before I quickly bent down to pick up the boxes that had fallen from my arms in the impact.

  He bent down with me and even took some of the boxes from my arms. “Stop, just give them back,” I demanded, but he didn't listen to me. He just kept picking up the ones I dropped and held them for me, grinning down at me.

  I would have slapped that stupid grin off his face if he weren't so much bigger than me.

  “It's been a damn long time, Viv,” he said. His voice was deeper than I remembered, and certainly everything about him was more manly. When I left he was thin and a bit morose. Now, though, he was muscular and tall and, well, suffice to say that puberty did him some real favors, late though it was.

  “Uh, yeah. I'm just back to clean out Mom's house. She died a little over a year ago. I don't know if you heard.” Of course he had. It was a small town, and every time I had called my mom after I left, she asked why I wasn't talking to Brant.

  “Yeah, I heard. I'm so sorry, Viv.” His eyes were genuinely sad, which was how they usually looked when we were younger. He never dealt with emotions well, and he felt them more passionately than anyone I had ever known. That was partly why I was so in love with him back then.

  That was partly why I knew I still had feelings for him.

  “It's alright,” I said sharply, looking for a way out of the conversation. “Ancient history at this point.”

  “You don't just get over a death like that,” he answered, his eyebrows stitching together, but then he shook his head. “Sorry. I don't get to tell you how to grieve. Aside from that, how are you?”

  “Fine. Busy. Look, I have to get those boxes back home so I can get the house on the market as soon as possible. Could you give them back, please?”

  He looked at the boxes and then back at me. “You're selling? I was hoping...” but then he stopped mid-sentence. “I'll help you carry them.”

  “No, I don't think so,” I answered, trying to pull them away from him. He had a good grip on them, though. “Fine.”

  “Sorry you saw me like that last night, by the way,” he said. “In cuffs. I promise that's not how I usually am.”

  I snorted a laugh, surprised that he even brought it up. “Alright, that's fine.”

  “I was wondering,” he said, then he paused for a long time.

  “Wondering what?”

  “Would you be willing to come watch me fight tonight?”

  –

  What luck! I honestly didn't expect to bump into her at all that day, and yet there she had been, literally bumping into me. Maybe I was nuts, but it felt a bit like fate was on my side that day. It seemed like, if we were meant to be, this would be one of the signs.

  I was willing to believe anything, if it meant I might have a chance with Vivian. I wanted to feel those lips against mine again.

  “It's just that, I haven't seen you in a while. And I always do better in my fights when I have someone there rooting for me. It'd give us a chance to catch up after!”

  “What do you even mean, come watch you fight?” She looked very confused. I realized that my question came out of nowhere, and chuckled.

  “Oh. I do mixed martial arts fighting. You know, punching other guys in the face. Have you ever seen it on TV?” I mocked punching the air with my fists, as if she somehow needed me to mime it for her. Real smooth, Brant.

  She laughed at me again, which stung a bit but I ignored it. “You? I can't imagine you swatting at a fly, no offense. You were so gentle in high school.” She was right, I had been pretty puny. To be honest, I barely know how I managed to gain muscle so fast.

  I focused on her again. Her long eyelashes batted. Was that intentional? Was she flirting with me? “Well, things change, Viv. I'm damn good at this, and I'll be going onto a national stage soon enough. Please say yes?”

  She looked even more beautiful during the day than she had last night. I was overwhelmed with the desire to sweep her into my arms and kiss her passionately, to remind her of all of the things I felt about her, to show her how much I loved her now.

  It was clear she was trying to avoid me, that she didn't want to go. It hurt, but I had to fight, because she meant so much to me. I wouldn't let her walk out of my life again, not without a fight.

  I almost asked why she never called, never wrote, never visited. I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from her mouth, even though it would have destroyed me.

  –

  “Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to come watch you fight, but you have to tell me how you even got into that. I would have thought your dad would have forced you into the army.” I said. Mr. Taggart had gone on and on about military honor, and how Brant would have to join if he didn't get a job right out of high school.

  “Dad died 4 months after we graduated,” Brant said. “Pancreatic cancer. We didn't even know until he was forced into the hospital.”

  “Oh, Jesus. Brant, I'm so sorry, I should have...” I stopped. It would have been selfish, then, to say that I should have been there. It would have been empty words, only useful to quell my guilt. He deserved better than that.

  “Like you said. Ancient history.” He smiled. There was a lot hidden in that smile. Answers as to how he went from being such a good kid to being thrown in jail. How 4 years could change so much.

  But he had grown a lot. “Where did all of those muscles come from, anyway?” I asked, laughed. I reached out and poked his bicep. Hard as a rock.

  He looked down at me and beamed. “It only took a few months to get into fighting shape. I take my body pretty seriously.”

  “When you're not getting piss drunk in some bar, I suppose?”

  “Hey! That's not fair!” He scowled, but then he laughed and waved his hand. “Nah, you're right. I drink too much these days.”

  I looked at that big burly man, who was nothing like my ex at all, and found myself imagining just how I'd like to be taken by him. Up against the wall, maybe, with his mouth on my neck and his big, thick cock between my legs. He was big back then. I wondered if his late puberty had made that better, too.

  Thinking about all of that made me blush bright red, though. Imagining him fucking me in the middle of the street, when I hadn't even wanted to see him again! I guess I had no shame.

  “Oh, you're blushing. You okay?” He asked, but he was still beaming from my pointing out his muscles. I think he might have known that I was thinking about him taking control of my body.

  How embarrassing!

  “I'm fine. Look, I need to get these boxes home. Can you hand them back to me?”

  “Not a chance. I'll help you carry them. Lead the way.”

  I gave him a look, but I knew there was no chance of me telling him no. “You know where I live,” I reminded him, but still I marched ahead. I could swear I felt his eyes on my ass the entire time.

  But you know what? I kind of liked it. It left me smiling, to be honest.

  As we walked up the steps, he started telling me about his workout regime. “I lift weights 5 days a week, and run 3 days a week. I take every Sunday off as my rest day. I do eat pretty healthy, most of the time.”

  I nodded and smiled. “I bet that leaves you in pretty good shape. I can definitely tell, even with you covered up.”

  He was wearing a hoodie with a t-shirt beneath it. “Oh, yeah? Well, how about
this?”

  Dropping the boxes onto my floor, he unzipped his hoodie and pulled off his shirt. I gasped and covered my eyes, but he just laughed at me. “What do you think of all this? Not bad, huh?”

  I admit it, I took a peek. Then I opened my eyes and let my hands fall. “Not bad at all. That's a pretty amazing transformation.”

  –

  Seeing her blush at my naked chest was incredibly satisfying. I hadn't seen that red face in so long. She was absolutely adorable.

  She was also incredibly hot. Every time I looked at her, I noticed something new, some slight change. Her hips were wider, her breasts fuller. Those perfect lips had the slightest pout to them, her cheeks a bit rosier.

  And her legs, God, they never stopped. I would have bit my lip if I didn't have better self control.

  “What are you staring at?” She asked, tilting her head. She kept all of those little ticks she had in high school, and she was still shy. I could tell that if she had to meet someone new, she would have a hard time of it.

  I used to have to introduce her to everyone, and until she got used to them, she wouldn't say more than a word or two. I wondered if she had many friends when she was away. Had she missed me? Had she thought about me at all?

  My chest was tight, my hands clenched. I had to change the situation, get rid of that confused look on her face, but I was frozen in place. I couldn't do a goddamn thing, no matter how badly I wanted to.

  She turned and said something about coffee, but I reached for her arm and pulled her back. I pulled her into my arms, spinning her easily. She gasped as her body hit mine. God, she was so soft, so warm.

  I tilted her face up, and pressed my lips against her. For a second, it felt right. It felt damn good, like everything I had been missing for 4 fucking years.

  When she pushed away, it was like having my heart broken by her all over again.

  Chapter Four