Savage Want (Wicked Wants, #3)

by Annice Sands

  Chapter Five

  Morning found us lying together as if that were the most natural thing in the world. Magus came upon us like that by calling for the Wulf outside the tent. Torsten rose, even as I snatched at the covers, taken by surprise. To my horror, Torsten dressed halfway and let Magus inside. What did it matter? Half the camp had seen me naked already.

  “There’s an army not too far south of here. They are advancing.”

  “How many men?” Torsten reached for a fresh horn of mead, liquid left to drip and glisten in his beard.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to believe they were making battle talk as I lay there in the bed. Perhaps Magus had not yet seen me.

  “I see you’ve tampered with your charge,” Magus said, to answer my unspoken concern.

  What did he mean by that?

  Torsten gave a secretive smile. “It was a mutual arrangement.”

  Magus nodded and accepted a drink from my...warden. Is that what he was to me? It had been all too easy to forget that I was not supposed to be here, or how much time had passed. Torsten had been good to me for the most part, aside from calling me woman and treating me as if I were not even present half the time.

  An army nearby? My heart quickened. Had King Torq finally caught up with the barbarians? I said nothing, only listened.

  “Do we have to speak in front of...” Magus jerked his head in my direction.

  Torsten snorted. “She is only a woman. She has no interest in the matters of men.”

  Magus lapsed into the language only they knew, and to my dismay, Torsten replied in kind. Now their conversation couldn’t be understood, and I was impatient to find my clothes. I felt vulnerable and insignificant in their company. I cleared my throat, and the two men stopped their rapid banter and looked at me.

  “I need to, ah...” I smiled and gestured at myself.

  Torsten raised an eyebrow in question, but Magus caught my meaning. He stood and nodded.

  “We should wait outside,” he said, and left the tent.

  Torsten shook his head and followed him out. As soon as they’d both gone, I sprang from the bed and hurriedly dressed. My eyes fell upon a dagger in its scabbard, possibly scavenged from previous exploits, now part of Torsten’s battle gear. Would he miss it? A plain thing, single-edged with a wooden cylindrical handle and a blade just smaller than the length of my hand.

  Magus’s little revelation had reignited my determination to end Torsten’s terrible campaign. I sighed and concealed the small weapon within the folds of my dress. My heart hurt. I did not know what to believe, whom to trust, or what I should do with myself. Escape again perhaps? Possibly anger my gracious “host”?

  Torsten called my name from outside, and I confirmed that I had used my time as needed. The men returned to the tent, deep in foreign talk and I went out, shielding my eyes from the morning sun immediately.

  Who was Torsten, exactly? He’d confirmed that he was leader to these savages, but in truth, they weren't all that brutal amongst their own kind. A walk around the camp on any other day would reveal men sharpening their swords, engaged in talk. Women washed the fabrics and cooked, battle steeds munched contently on the sweet grass that grew in patches. Today, the scene was different. Sensing danger from the approaching group in the south, the men were tense, most in battle dress. The women were chased from view and the cooking had ceased. It seemed that Torsten’s army would either be migrating once again, or would turn their often deadly gaze on the possible threat to the south.

  I grabbed the arm of a random man in passing. His arm was steel beneath my fingers as he glanced down at me. His face was cragged rock, older than Torsten by far. An ancient scar mimicked a lightning bolt’s path down one cheek. I recognized him as Eron, one of the more boastful of Torsten’s warriors and definitely a taker of women. His graying hair swirled around his shoulders.

  “What, woman?” he barked in rough English.

  My mouth went dry, but I swallowed hard and pointed in the direction of the advancing army. He raised his axe and gave me a vicious, white-toothed grin.

  “You are riding out to meet them? But there’s so many.” I frowned. Surely this was not a good idea.

  As the army grew closer I could make out their battle banners flying proudly over their heads. The bear and the cock, a rooster.

  The bear had been Cecil’s father’s emblem. I wasn’t sure about the cock. It was possible that this tactic was executed in the name of vengeance. If so, the engagement might not be so easily won as Eron was thinking.

  “Go,” Eron growled, indicating that I should go to my tent as the other women had. His craggy features were already hardened, most likely in mental preparation for what lay ahead of him.

  “Tell me just one more thing, my lord?” I gave him the sweetest smile I could muster.

  Eron grumbled and waved me away.

  “Your Jarl?”

  Eron laughed and shook his head. “Jarl Kolla, no. We. Fight!”

  He waved his hand in dismissal and turned his attention to the south.

  Jarl Kolla?

  These were definitely the men from the sailors’ tales. Jarl Kolla was a man of absolute terror on the seas and many a seaman had encountered the dragon ships, as they were called. They trade one day, raid the next, the old captain had told me.

  Left with no option but to do as I was told; I went to hide in Torsten’s tent.

  I would have to ask Torsten himself. It was time that I was enlightened as to my actual situation. Magus was just leaving as I entered and Torsten wasn’t drunk and quiet, but pacing, dressed. My gaze fell to his sword. Armed.

  “Bleeding thief in my damned tent!” he boomed to no one in particular, throwing up his hands.

  I swallowed hard. The dagger.

  “Woman!” he bellowed, turning his ferocious gaze to me. “You did not take something that does not belong to you, did you?”

  My mouth fell open and I mindlessly shook my head. Torsten stomped up to me, his nostrils flaring. I must have been looking upon his battle-face; rage had transformed his countenance to something just this side of inhuman.

  “Has anyone else entered my tent while I was gone?” His hands gripped my shoulders and he shook me.

  “I haven’t been here to see.”

  His big hands began to wander further down my dress. My heart nearly stopped. The dagger was in the folds. I’d be found out. He would surely kill me for thievery.

  For some reason or another, he abandoned his search of me to pull at his hair. A deep growl emitted from him.

  “Will you go to battle with them?” I eased to the other side of the tent, wary of his smoldering fury.

  “I have to.” He looked to be making attempts to calm himself.

  “I want to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest with me, Torsten.”

  “Now is not the time...”

  “Now is the time,” I said much more boldly than I felt. But he’d be gone quickly. I didn’t want to wait any longer.

  Confusion slid across his features; he wasn’t used to me wanting much but to stay safe and have his arms around me.

  “Ask then.”

  “Am I being detained for a reason other than your pleasure?”

  His face went blank in an instant. And reddened.

  “Who are you, truly?” I persisted.

  Torsten shook his head and walked to his chair, where he sat down. His gestures indicated I should do the same. His beard quivered as he pressed his lips together.

  “You were brought to me for safekeeping,” he rumbled. “I...found you not not-beautiful. I was to give you over for working with the other wenches, but I could not. You...Elena. You are a lady with an important family.”

  “Is Cecil dead?” I shot back. “Did you or your men kill him?”

  Torsten shrugged. “We killed many. We did not ask for names.”

  “Who are you then?”

  Torsten smirked. “I am Torsten the Wulf, you know this already.”


  “Your father, Torsten. Who is your father?”

  Torsten laughed much like Eron had, only his was much more bitter. “Jarl Kolla is my father.”

  I blinked. He was of royal blood. And of Kolla, one of the most feared men in the kingdom. Parents told their children horror stories of Kolla, that if they were bad, the king of the Northmen would come in on an ice-dragon and turn them into snow. Of course, dragons hadn’t existed in a millennium, but Kolla did and for years he’d been a silent mountain. There, but content to remain within his borders. But now, he’d sent raiders and who else to lead them but his son?

  Jarl Kolla wanted reconnaissance. Land. Gold. Torsten’s men wanted women and blood.

  The sound of battle horns interrupted us. Torsten shot up from his seat.

  “I must go. They attack us.”

  We emerged from the tent in time to see the land flooded with enemy soldiers, colors that represented my kingdom, which were blue and gold, and the black and red that must have been the mysterious Cock’s color. As they drew near, it was apparent that the errant army was composed of sellswords—rough men who awarded the highest bidder the service of their blade and arrow. Torsten drew his sword and shouted an order to prepare for battle. But for the first time since I’d been with the Northmen, they were not ready.

  Blood was spilled almost immediately. Eron came long to snatch me by the arm and corral me with the other women, one in the early stages of pregnancy. Eron fought bravely for us. One woman said a prayer to her gods with folded hands and a makeshift cover upon her head. We all cried at the sounds of death almost instinctively, as if we understood that change burned in the air. The attacking army might win and then where would we be taken?

  Someone had failed to put out their fire. Flaming arrows fell around us in volleys and just as Eron was about to usher us towards the flanking woods, he too fell victim to a sharpened blade.

  I could not face another great loss such as before so soon. Did I endear myself to these barbarians? Had I gone completely mad? A low wail came out of me as I thought of Torsten and all those enemy soldiers. Surely he would die like the rest. But that should be a good thing.

  “Lady Elena? Is that you?” A familiar voice called out to me, but was hoarse and so I couldn’t put a name to it.

  Smoke obscured my vision, as I’m sure it did his. I had to walk past Eron’s corpse to reach the speaker. My belly rolled uncomfortably and I choked back a dry-heave. So much death. I had seen so much death. A gentle breeze parted the smokescreen and I was looking upon Cecil Penbroke himself. My mouth hung as if unhinged. Torsten had said he did not know if they had killed my husband-to-be, but for Cecil to be there in a battle was uncharacteristic for him.

  “Oh, thank God!” He took me by both shoulders to look at me.

  I hung my head in shame. I wore the furs and dressage of the Northmen’s women. Perhaps I’d been in shock the entire time. Everything from the Northmen’s initial attack on felt like a dream. Perhaps I was still dreaming. Cecil tugged my chin up with his fingers to look into my eyes.

  “What have they done to you?”

  He called for his horse to be brought, and men scurried to follow his order. When his mount was all but dragged in, reality seemed to catch up with my mind. This was all happening. This was all real. I stared up at the massive black stallion with its wild eyes and kicking hooves and felt myself lifted onto his back. The beast twitched and trembled beneath me. I clutched its mane. The world looked so small from that height.

  Cecil spoke softly to the horse and smiled up at me. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

  His words should have brought me comfort, but I fought back tears as my world seemed about to change yet again. A few moments passed before I could trust myself to speak.

  “My father?”

  Cecil’s expression darkened for but a brief flicker, then nothing, as if I’d only imagined it. “He is waiting for you back at the manor. I will take you to him, if that is your wish?”

  Only then did my heart feel a sense of relief. My father—alive!

  “Yes, I’d like it very much if you did.”

  One of Cecil’s men approached us from the din.

  “My lord, we have the bastard.”

  “Good,” Cecil said, turning his attention from me. “Kill the rest and burn everything. I want no trace of them left. Bring the barbarian prince back to the manor.”

  Had Torsten not made his confession about his bloodline, I wouldn’t have known it was he that they were talking about. But it only could be him. They had captured Torsten and now we would return to the manor. I shouldn’t have worried about Torsten’s welfare, but I did. The surge of emotions surprised me. They would not kill Torsten, if that were false, he’d be dead along with the rest of his men.

  Torsten’s voice reached my ears as Cecil’s men wrestled to subdue him. I could not look. I could not be concerned for the life of a savage. Torsten cursed the men in our language and his. He carried on until a wise soldier struck him unconscious. I said little on our two days by horseback. Cecil unhorsed another man to take the mount for me and we switched.

  My new horse was smaller so that people on foot didn’t seem quite as insignificant. Behind us, I could hear the sounds of a cart’s wheels. Torsten was in that cart. Sometimes he would wake up and shout like a madman until struck by a pommel or, one time, a stone from the side of the road. I couldn’t imagine how injured he was. He wouldn’t have been easy to take down. And to think that I held a dagger in my possession that I’d almost plunged into his heart.

  On the morning of the third day, shortly after we’d broken camp, the lands swelled and rolled with fields freshly planted and the manor came into view. Seeing it stirred a confusing pot of reactions in me, that I was liberated from the barbarians and was to be swept up into privileged living once again. And that perhaps our wedding plans would resume almost immediately. But my mind wandered on dark paths, recalling Torsten’s big strong hands, how they’d gripped my ass tight enough to leave light bruising and his fiery kiss. How Torsten had filled me. My breath quickened and I felt a warmth pool between my thighs. My nipples tightened underneath the fabric of my dress and the gait of my mount did not help matters at all. Had I been lying in bed undisturbed, I’d have touched myself. My body wanted what my title would not allow, not until the right time and done so in a lawful fashion. Yet the lords could have whomever they wished. I supposed that even Torsten had taken other women even as I slept in his bed in his tent. But I never saw reason to think that he did put himself on others. And I heard of Cecil’s conquests each and every time. I would not be his first and, most likely, not his last, a fact that I chose before to ignore.

  My father greeted us at the gates. All worries dissipated as he held me against his chest in reunion. Of all people I thought I’d lost, he was the one I worried for the most. Tears of joy slid down my dirty cheeks. I wiped at them and then he did before taking me into his arms to plant a gentle kiss on my forehead.

  “I can imagine all you want is a bath.”

  I could not help but laugh. “The sight of you has made me temporarily forget.”

  “Get yourself cleaned up and we will meet to talk later.”

  Food. That I could certainly enjoy. Part of me wondered if Torsten had eaten since he’d been taken prisoner. His cart had gone on inside the wall, where he was probably being loaded into a holding cell. I let go of my father and gave a small curtsey. A trio of ladies-in-waiting escorted me inside the manor to a fresh hot bath, replete with crushed petal of the rose. There was no sign of Milanra. Perhaps she had been killed, along with so many others.

  The scent was nearly overwhelming, but I slid into the water without complaint, as baths were a luxury with Torsten’s clan, and the task was completed in rivers, lakes, or streams. I wondered what he would think of the tub filled with clean water and flowers. A small smile crossed my face as I imagined his dark scowl and disdain for the entire experience.

&nb
sp; The three servants retreated and left me alone.

  As if they did not rely on me for command, my hands slid over the skin of my abdomen. It was like Torsten’s touch, though I couldn’t grip my sides the way he would. I peered guiltily around the room and relaxed.

  Oh, how I wanted him. And yet he stood or sat bound in chains somewhere on the property, a thief of the Duke’s soon-to-be daughter-in-law. A savage man, born to bleed and draw blood. But I knew a different side of him. The soft murmurs in my ear in his strange language. His words sounded like a wolf’s growl, should the animal be given the gift of speech. I eased my thighs open.

  Torsten was there, in my mind, as my hand slid over the gentle curve of my hip to cup my mound. The pleasure of the simple pressure quickened my breath and I let out a soft whine. Devil’s work, touching one’s own self in private places. I rocked my wrist back and forth to rub the silken grooves of my cunt. There was a place Torsten would find there that would...there it was. Oh. I moaned out loud, but caught myself with wide eyes. I’d touched myself in the past, but this was different. Torsten had made me aware of a magic spot there in the middle of the folds. A sensitive place that was stiff, like the stamen of a flower. My flower. I clamped my teeth over my bottom lip and raised my hips slightly. My fingers found the tunnel Torsten had bore into me.

  The water sloshed in the tub a bit, as I rubbed the magic spot on me. My other hand went to my breast, to pique and tug on the nipple. My insides ignited like flashes in the dark, faster and faster. My nipples ached, longing to be licked, suckled and bitten by Torsten’s teeth.

  The more I inserted my finger inside my cunt, the more I needed to. One finger became two. It was if I would shove my hand inside there if I could, but three fingers bore a pale similarity to Torsten’s thickness, though I could not fill myself the way he had. I frowned in frustration as I kneaded my other breast, liking the heaviness of it, a firmness with a pebble nipple placed in the center. Just where a man like Torsten could dip his head down while fucking me, yes, fucking, I loved that word. I would never use such a derogatory term in good company, but my body demanded I find something to put inside me and I had nothing to satisfy those desires. No reassuring weight above me. No dark beard, delightfully scratching my skin. No low growl.