Captured

by Melinda Barron

  Venise continued to sob as he arranged the furs around her, then lay down and pulled her into his arms. She didn’t care they were in bed together, or that his hard cock demanded attention. All she cared about was the warm body next to her that reminded her she was alive—in hell, but alive.

  She wondered vaguely how he’d handled his time here when he’d first arrived, but when he started to stroke her hair and murmur soft words that she was sure were meant to soothe her, she closed her eyes and let sleep overtake her.

  * * * *

  He could feel her pain, seeping out from her skin into his heart. The evening had seemed so perfect, with the two of laughing and enjoying the game. It had been so long since he’d felt the pain and fear that came with his banishment.

  The memories of his first nights in this place came back full force, slamming into his brain. He’d been scared at first, wondering if he’d been sucked into the underworld after the witch had killed him. Then the food had appeared and it had become painfully obvious. He’d tried to find a way out, to no avail.

  And then he’d come to terms with his imprisonment, although it hadn’t been easy. There had been times when he thought he would lose his mind. The only thing that kept him sane was the knowledge that there might be some way out of here, at some time. Was the woman he held right now his way out, or was she some ugly trick the witch played on him?

  The answers would come in time, he knew. And they had lots of time. But first, he had to help her come to terms with what was happening to her. But how could he do it when they couldn’t even speak? She’d reacted well when he’d taken her in his arms; at least she hadn’t hit him.

  The only problem was his manhood, already swollen, had throbbed with the need to seek out her soft, feminine center and make her his own. The thought of thrusting in and out of her made his flesh harder, and made him want to climb on top of her and bury himself inside her.

  No! You can’t do that. What would she think of you if you did that? She’d hate you, and try to hit you again. But did it matter? She was his, after all. She was in his bed. In his world, he would claim her, no matter what her needs or desires.

  After all, she was a gift from the witch, wasn’t she? But what if she wasn’t? What if Venise was just someone who had fallen into this world by mistake? If that were so, he couldn’t take her, because she might disappear. Right now, he didn’t really remember what it was like to take a woman. If he took her, and then she vanished, he was sure he would die.

  At least in his mind. His body would live on, in torment with the memory of her soft body accepting him inside her. Staying down here by himself was torment enough, but having those thoughts to torture him would make it even worse.

  It took him a few moments to realize she was no longer sleeping. He’d felt her drift off when her crying had slowed, but now her breath was coming in normal rhythm. She hadn’t moved out of his arms, however.

  “Rugoff?”

  His body flinched as she put her hand on his stomach and lifted up enough to look him in the eye, then sat up fully. The movement pushed back the sheets and her gaze drifted down to his manhood, now uncovered and still hard as a rock.

  She started to talk, the words coming fast. He didn’t understand a word she said, but she kept pointing at the food table, then put her hand between her legs.

  The need inside him increased as she jiggled, her breasts moving under the loose clothing she still wore.

  Was she hungry? Should he get up and bring her food or what? She stood and danced around a little, looking much like she had when she’d won the game. But her hands were still between her legs and…understanding dawned.

  She needed to make water. He jumped from the bed, trying as hard as he could to hide himself from her view and motioned for her to follow him. The relieving room was close to the bathing stream. He ushered her in and went to the pool, intent on giving himself relief of different sort while she was occupied.

  Once he was at the far wall, he braced himself with one hand while the other went to his aching flesh. He grasped his manhood, pain shooting through him. It wouldn’t take long, he knew, to bring seed from his body. But once he’d done it, would his flesh harden again immediately? He was pretty sure it would, since lying next to the beautiful female was a sweet torture he’d never felt before. And his body ached as it never had before.

  Take her! The words screamed inside his mind as his hand went to work, moving from base to tip and back again. She is in your home. She is a gift from the gods. Take her! Bend her over and plunge inside her.

  He stopped moving, his breath coming in hard, harsh gasps. He knew he shouldn’t listen to the voice, which was just temptation reminding him there was a soft female nearby. It was his beautiful mother, though, long oppressed by his vicious father, who had told him a woman should enjoy coupling as much as a man.

  She taught him to take things slow, to make sure the woman reached the same peak a man did at the end of lovemaking. He would not dishonor her memory by forcing himself on Venise, whether she was a gift from the gods or not. If she were a gift, she would want to lay under him as much as he wanted her to. Until then, he would suffice with his hand.

  Rugoff closed his eyes and settled into a hard pace, pleasure spreading through as he squeezed his rod harder, his hand moving faster. His climax neared, the feeling overwhelming.

  When a female hand caressed his thigh, he lost his rhythm, and his breath caught in his throat. Pain surged through him, until she moved her hand to his rod and clasped it firmly.

  Her breasts, still clad in the tunic, pressed against his back as she stroked him. He put both hands on the wall and allowed her to work his cock, closing his eyes and savoring the touch of her soft flesh after so many years of feeling only himself.

  “Venise.” He whispered her name over and over as her movements increased, bringing him closer to the edge. She wrapped her free arm around his middle, letting her fingers stray down to tangle in the curly hair at the base of his rod.

  Two fingers slid on either side of him, squeezing at the root while her hand covered the tip, moving the skin and back forth.

  Rugoff couldn’t hold back, no matter how much he wanted this superb pleasure to last. His seed shot forth, coating her hand and the wall as she continued to work him. A second stream erupted, the bliss ripping through him as it left his sac. He’d never felt anything thing this good in his entire life.

  It had been so long since he’d had more than dreams, he couldn’t remember what it had ever felt like before. Right now, though, he thought he might die from the ecstasy surging through his body.

  When the last of the stream had left him, he straightened, reaching a hand around to her, intent on giving her the same joy. She back away, though, shaking her head when he turned to her.

  Then she dropped to her knees and washed off her hands in the water, wiping them on the tunic as she headed out of the room, not looking back to where he stood.

  He stared after her, wondering if he should follow her and give her the same pleasure she’d just given him, or if he should stay. If she wanted him to fill her, surely she would not have left.

  Despite the fact he’d just climaxed his cock still pulsed. He should follow her and complete what they’d just started. Or should he take her leaving as the sigh that it was and leave her alone?

  He waited for the answer to come to him. When it didn’t he asked the witch for it, but she didn’t answer him, either.

  “This would be so much easier if we could communicate,” he said softly. “Would you help me in that department, witch? Please?”

  As usual, there was no answer. At least not right now. Hopefully by the time morning arrived there would be, though, and he could ask Venise if she wanted to give herself to him in the most intimate of ways.

  Chapter Five

  Was it morning, or was it the middle of the night? With no windows through which to gauge the sun, or lack thereof, Venise had no idea how long she’d slep
t. When Rugoff had not followed her to bed, she was not sure what she felt. Would she have let him make love to her? Her world was turned upside down; and it was no more evident in the fact that she’d jacked him off.

  She’d never played with an uncut penis before, and she’d been fascinated by the foreskin and the way it moved around the tip of it. It seemed to provide him a great amount of pleasure when she moved it, letting her fingers toy with the skin just a little before going back to the actual hard strokes.

  His hips had moved rapidly when she’d done that, and the sounds of satisfaction coming out of his mouth were universal. She’d felt connected to him in a way she never had with anyone else, and that frightened her a little. Maybe it was the extreme events that had brought her into his world, or maybe there was a bond she couldn’t see. Whatever it was, when he’d climaxed she’d felt his passion seep into her body, and she swore she felt the tingle of release deep in her soul.

  Despite that she still questions whether she would have given herself to him if he’d come to bed. She would never know the answer to that, however, because he hadn’t returned. She’d fallen asleep, and woken alone. Sounds from the bathing room told her where he was, and she wondered if he’d stayed there all night.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t ask him. She had to figure out some way for them to communicate. She was a scholar, for heaven’s sake. This should be a problem she could solve in nothing flat.

  She glanced at the food table, then got up and padded toward it. The table was still full, but the food there was new, different. There were still meatballs, but there were different types of bread, and there were fruits, bananas, oranges and apples; and there were vegetables, too, some carrots, broccoli and cucumbers, one of her favorites.

  It was as if someone had read her mind and provided her with everything except coffee. She glanced at the pitchers to find milk and orange juice. A noise from behind startled her and she turned to find Rugoff standing there, his body glistening with water.

  He wore his tunic and a pair of linen trousers, which kept his cock hidden from view. Venise wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Memories of last night flooded her and part of her wanted him to be hard again, to see what would happen.

  Forget that for now, she mentally chastised herself. Think about other things.

  “Food.”

  “Yes, food.” Her mouth fell open in shock as he spoke. “The witch provides me with sustenance daily.”

  “You…you…bastard! You can speak English.” She didn’t know whether to slap him or hug him. Yet another confusing element that she didn’t know how to interpret.

  The look on his face showed her he was as surprised by this as she was. “Last night, I asked the witch for the ability to communicate with you. I guess she saw clear to fulfilling that request.”

  “Yeah, right.” She couldn’t keep the sarcastic tone out of her voice, even though in her heart, she knew he was right. There was no way someone could set up this elaborate of a hoax. “Sorry, this whole thing just…freaks me out.”

  The confused look on his face said he was searching his newfound language for her meaning.

  “I’m baffled, perplexed, puzzled.”

  He nodded as understanding dawned. “The food meets with your satisfaction?”

  “Yes, the only thing that’s missing is coffee.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Yes, it’s a drink with lots of caffeine to help get you going for the day.” She fixed him with an inquisitive look. “Can you ask for coffee tomorrow?”

  “I will, but I never know when she will answer me.” His grin made her shiver. He seemed more handsome now than he had yesterday. How was that possible?

  “How long has she been leaving you gifts?”

  The grin disappeared. “Since the day of my arrival, which was a very long time ago. She doesn’t always respond, but sometimes she sees fit to give me some comfort in my prison.”

  “It all seems so strange.” She picked up a bagel and looked around. “A toaster would be nice, too. You can also ask for a microwave, a refrigerator, a stove, and maybe a blender, too. But you’d also have to ask for electricity. Strange that she didn’t give it to you when you have running water in the bathing room and a bathroom that looks like an outhouse in a cave but works like a toilet.”

  Venise held back the laughter she felt as he processed her words. She imagined him mentally scanning the dictionary that had been magically loaded into his brain.

  “I wouldn’t know what to do with those things.”

  “I would.” She pulled apart the bagel. “Peanut butter would be nice, too. I enjoy it, a lot. Good protein.”

  He leaned forward, a mischievous grin on his face. “Perhaps you should make me a list.”

  Venise laughed, then took another bite of her bread. “Perhaps you should just ask her to restore you to the real world. It’s unfair of you to suffer because you father was an ass.”

  “My suffering has eased since you’ve arrived.”

  Heat soared through her and she felt a blush spread up her cheeks. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “Not right now.” He sat in a chair “Tell me how you came to be here. You obviously don’t work for the witch, or you wouldn’t have to ask for things, you would be able to conjure them.”

  She nodded, impressed with his logic. “I’m a scholar. I came to see visit a woman to learn about her folk tales and she…pushed me into a chair and I landed in the snow, here.”

  “A woman? What woman?”

  “Mrs. Westergard. Does the name ring a bell?”

  “No, no bell.” The look on his face was much like that of a child learning things for the first time.

  Venise picked up a banana, hoping the movement turned her face from him enough to hide her smile. “Now that I think about it, she had this planned. She acted as if others were arriving. You have two brothers that are in the same position you are in, right?”

  “Benedikt and Egill.” There was deep sorrow in his voice. “I hate my father for what he did to us.”

  He started and stood, walking toward the bed before turning suddenly and going to the fireplace instead. Venise had the impression he was embarrassed for expressing his feelings.

  “You know, just because he’s your father doesn’t mean you have to love him.” She moved toward where he fed wood into the blaze. “It’s not as if he had a care for you.”

  She thought about telling him that her own parents had abandoned her, but thought it wasn’t the same thing at all. She’d been left at a church, probably in an effort to give her a chance at a better life, which had happened. His father had betrayed his sons and consigned them to hell.

  “Can you talk with them? Are they near?”

  “No, the only visitor I have is the agent of Loki, who comes for my part of the key.” He looked up from the fire. “Well, other than you.”

  “Key?” This was a new part of the story. “Mrs. Westergard said nothing about a key. She said the witch sent the three of you to the bowels of the Earth to punish your father.”

  “That is true, but there is more to the story than that.”

  Venise wasn’t surprised to hear that. There was always more to the story. The scholar inside her perked up. “Will you tell me the rest?”

  “Of course.”

  She clapped her hands together then went to her backpack and retrieved her laptop, praying it had survived the fall and that her battery still worked. She put it on the table and lifted the lid, thrilled to hear the familiar jingle that signaled the start up.

  “What in the name of Odin is that?” She glanced to where Rugoff stood, transfixed. His gaze never left the laptop and she smiled.

  “It’s a computer.” She stayed where she was, very aware when he took a few steps back and stared at the device as if it would come to life and kill him. “It helps me to store information, that’s all. It’s not alive, it’s a machine.”

  “Machine.” He whispered the word, h
is gaze never wavering.

  “Come and touch it.” She tapped the plastic. “Things have changed a little bit since you left civilization.”

  Rugoff stayed rooted where he was. Venise sat down and tapped a few keys to start a new file for his story. She kept her face turned toward the screen to hide her smile as he moved toward her ever so slowly.

  How hard it must be, she thought, to see things that were so totally foreign, and even frightening, especially when he’s spent so much time down here by himself.

  “While you talk, I’m going to type. The things here are called keys, and I press them according to the spelling of a word. It transfers the words onto the screen and then I can save the information to the hard drive.” She laughed as she looked at him. “And you have no idea what I just said. Just trust me. I need it, and it won’t hurt you.”

  He glanced at the swords hanging on the wall and she put a protective arm around the laptop. “Don’t even think about it.”

  He sat down opposite from her, keeping a wary eye on the machine. “Tell me what this woman told you.”

  Venise quickly related the story Mrs. Westergard had spun for her. She watched Rugoff, who listened with care, taking his gaze off the computer and settling it on her.

  “She tells a half-tale,” he said when she was done. “I wonder if it is because she does not know the whole thing, or because she does not want it to be known.”

  That thought hadn’t occurred to Venise at all. “Do you think she could be the witch? But what could she want?”

  Rugoff licked his lips and she wondered what he was thinking. There was silence between them while he thought, and she wanted to tell him to hurry up and talk to her, that she wasn’t the type who took waiting in stride.

  “You know my father killed the witch?”

  Venise nodded slowly, wondering where this was going.

  “I often wondered how she could provide me with food and other things I asked for when she was dead. But I convinced myself that she, somehow, could break the veil of death and still work her magic.”