“That is the first of many before I am done with you,” Bjorn groaned as he thrust and circled again.
Tyra whimpered as her hips continued to rise and meet Bjorn’s. He pushed her over the edge again and again until her body could take no more.
“Look at me, Ty. I would see you as you find your release with me.”
“I can’t. It’s too much. I can’t keep them open.” Her mouth formed a perfect oval as she moaned out her last release. It was more than enough for Bjorn as his body followed hers, once again spilling inside her. His release was even stronger than earlier in the night. He was stunned at by how it wracked his body, and his arms shook as he tried to hold himself above her. He lowered himself to his forearms, but even then, his muscles shook as tremors ran through them. He kissed Tyra’s nose, her forehead, and each cheek before pressing his tongue between her lips. She pulled down on his shoulders, but Bjorn did not want to crush her.
“Let me hold you, please.” Her soft entreaty was more than Bjorn could withstand. He allowed his chest and belly to press down on hers as he swept the hair from her damp temples. “I won’t break.”
“I know, but you are precious to me. In moments like this, I want to show you that.”
Tyra looked into Bjorn’s eyes and found honesty there. She strained to kiss him before resting her head on the ground with her eyes closed. Her fingers continued to play in the hair that covered his nape and upper back.
“As much as I don’t want to, we need to dress and go back. The others will have already figured what we’ve done, but I don’t want them to worry. And I definitely don’t want any of the men to come looking for us only to find you uncovered.” Bjorn handed Freya her pants which she pulled on as she grumbled. “Hurry, my little woodland nymph.”
Bjorn’s laugh died as they both caught the soft sound of leaves rustling. The sound did not come from their camp. They both drew their swords and came to their feet. Despite still being naked, Bjorn tucked Tyra behind him as she had not put her shirt back on. He scooped it up and handed it back to her.
“Ye should have listened to your mon, but I dinna mind a look at those sweet tits now he isnae panting over ye.” The leader of the band of ten men stepped forward. He glanced at Bjorn who stood ready to pounce. “Nae bad, ma friend. I ken why she was moaning like she was in heat.”
The man rubbed his crotch as Bjorn growled, but he refused to take the bait. He would not leave Tyra unprotected. Once he was certain Tyra was dressed, he let out a whistle that pierced the silence of the woods.
“Ye shouldnae done that.” The men rushed forward and grabbed both Tyra and Bjorn. One man swept up Bjorn’s clothes before they were both tossed onto horses. The man who took Tyra tried to squeeze her breast, but he was unprepared for her to jerk her head back and butt him in the face. Tyra swung an elbow into his gut before wrapping her hands around his neck and throwing all her weight forward, unseating the man from the saddle and bringing him over her shoulder. She grabbed the reins and made the horse rear before its hooves came down on the man who dared touch her. She spun around to look for Bjorn, but a fist smashed into her face and everything faded to black. Tyra heard Bjorn roar her name, but then there was nothing.
Ten
Bjorn watched Tyra fight the man who dared touch her, and he was proud of how she defended herself, but he fought against the three men who restrained him when he witnessed the leader ride up beside her and drive his fist into her face. She fell from the horse, and Bjorn was sure she broke her neck from how she landed. The man who knocked her from the horse dismounted, threw her across his saddle, and mounted behind her. They bound Bjorn’s hands before Tyra was back on the horse. The entire attack was over in a matter of a few minutes. They were being carried away before any of the Norsemen arrived at the trees. Bjorn whistled once more, and he heard a response, but a fist slammed into his face too. He shook it off, refusing to give in and not be able to watch over Tyra. Bjorn would not take his eyes off her until they reached safety. He took a punch to the kidneys that doubled him over. It was impossible to determine which man rode behind him, but he had to be enormous to control Bjorn when it had taken three to restrain him only moments ago. His only consolation was the man’s horse would not last riding double, and even though Tyra weighed only a fraction of what he did, the leader’s horse would tire sooner, too.
The group of ten men and their captives rode in silence for a couple of hours before, as Bjorn suspected, the horses that carried two riders began to flag. They turned off the path and followed a deer trail to a stream. Bjorn tried to keep track of their route, but the men doubled back and crossed their own tracks to the point where Bjorn did not know if they were coming or going. When they reached the water the man behind Bjorn dismounted, then pulled Bjorn from the horse, letting him land hard in the dirt. Before he rolled away, his pants landed on his head.
“Cover up, mon. I dinna need yer naked arse against me anymore.”
“Worried it’ll keep making you hard?” Bjorn taunted.
“Just how I’ll need it when I hump yer woman.”
The Highlander was not prepared for how fast Bjorn moved, even with his hands bound. Bjorn roared as he grabbed one the man’s ankles and pulled hard enough for the Highlander to fall. Bjorn was on top of him in an instant, bringing his bound hands down as one mighty fist. He pounded away as blood squirted from the man’s nose and lips. He leaned back far enough to plow his fists into the man’s throat several times before the others pulled him away. It took four men this time to restrain him as he kicked out when the first two grappled with his arms. Bjorn stilled, and the men released his legs. He spat on the man who had not moved from where he landed when Bjorn attacked him. One of the men who had restrained his legs checked on the colossus on the ground. He ran his fingers along the man’s neck then shook his head.
“He’s dead,” the man was incredulous.
“As he deserves,” Bjorn said. He swung his head back and crashed it into one of the men holding him. It was enough of a surprise for the man to relax his grip. Bjorn pulled away and swung at the other man who held him. Hands still fisted together, he brought them down on the man’s temples. When he was free, Bjorn drove his fists into the base of the man’s nose, shoving it into his brain. The Highlander was dead before he hit the ground. Bjorn was ready to tear through the remaining men until the leader pulled Tyra from the horse. He held a knife to her throat. He cocked an eyebrow in challenge to Bjorn. Bjorn stilled but hissed when anyone came near him. He snatched his pants and struggled into them as best he could without the freedom of having one hand at each of his sides.
Tyra’s head pounded as she became aware of movement around her and the roar of an injured animal. She blinked her eyes to find Bjorn naked and pounding his fists into a man’s throat. Tyra realized it was no injured animal but an enraged Bjorn. She kept her head lowered and listened as someone announced the man was dead. Tyra feigned unconsciousness as she sensed someone moving behind her. She feared she would bite the tip of her tongue off as she kept from yelping when a man pulled her from the horse and a knife pressed against her throat. She dared not swallow despite the temptation. She made her body remain limp as she hung like a rag doll. She waited for the man to lower the knife from her throat. When his arm passed over her breast and drew to her side, she seized her opportunity. The man had not bound her hands, and that was his greatest mistake. She grabbed his arm with enough space between her hands to bring his forearm down over her raised knee. She delighted in hearing a crack before she dug her nails into his wrists as she spun and pulled him around her. Tyra swiped her foot out, forcing him to the ground. The leader of the attackers grabbed ahold of her hair and yanked her back. She lost her balance, but not before she wrestled the knife from his injured arm. She pointed it at his throat and let the momentum of being pulled to the other side do the work for her. She slit the man’s throat, then drove the knife into the hollow at the base of his throat.
Tyra scramb
led to her feet and rushed to Bjorn, who held his hands out. The knife made short work of the rope. She handed him the knife as she pulled one from her boot. She had not even realized she had pulled them on in time, but she remembered stepping into them as Bjorn thrust her shirt into her hands. Bjorn’s back bumped hers as they both held up their knives, daring any of the remaining men to approach. Tyra bared her teeth and snarled.
“I’d fear her more than me,” Bjorn taunted. “She doesn’t like it when people rough me up. Very protective.”
Bjorn and Tyra scanned the men who surrounded them, confident that even though it was seven to two, the odds were in their favor. However, it startled them when applause floated from the trees nearby. They remained ready to strike until Grímr stepped forward.
“Anyone who underestimates a shieldmaiden deserves the death he gets.” Grímr’s grin looked more like a sneer.
Tyra tried to stifle her gasp as Bjorn went rigid behind her. They both stood, and Bjorn’s hand brushed against hers.
“Bjorn Jansson, and would that be Tyra Vigosdóttir? Such luck. Not as good as getting Leif or Erik, but just as beautiful as Freya. And just as lusty from what I hear.”
Tyra and Bjorn kept their faces impassive, but Tyra was sure they were both wondering if Grímr was antagonizing them or if he knew anything about her and Freya.
“I have spies everywhere. I know Freya is no better than a cheap whore, always ready. And you, my dear. Apparently, you have a body to make men sin. Lucky me. I’m already a sinner.”
“So, you’re a Christian now?” Bjorn tried to change the subject. “Sold yourself to the Christian devil?”
Grímr flicked his glance at Bjorn.
“Whatever I am, I shall have a good time riding her,” he leered at Tyra.
“And if I rip your cock off first?” Tyra purred. If someone did not listen to her words, they might think her voice was seductive. “And what if I shove your bollocks down your throat? I doubt you’d be very hard after that. What should I do with your cock if I have it and don’t want it? Shove it up your own arse?”
“Vulgar. But I find that rather hot.”
“What do you want?” Bjorn interjected.
“Didn’t I just tell you?” Grímr licked his lips, and Tyra wanted to wretch. “You mean beside fucking your woman in front of you? Ah, well, I should like to finish what my worthless brother and my whoring wife started. Now that I don’t have to share my spoils with them, I’m enjoying myself even more.”
“Because you don’t dirty your hands. You got one little cut on your leg, and you were too scared to fight after that. Does your new God like cowards because you know ours don’t?” Bjorn shifted so Tyra was no longer in Grímr’s line of sight.
“Those are big words for an outnumbered man who has a woman he’d rather not see raped. I would suggest you try sugar over vinegar if you want her to only end up raped and not dead.”
“I’d prefer death,” Tyra muttered.
“That can be arranged. After my men and I get what we want from you.” Grímr gestured to the line of men who stepped forward. There were easily fifty visible to Tyra and Bjorn. Seven they could defeat, but fifty would see them dead before the fight even began. “Not so much to say now? Just as well, because I was tired of hearing your pitiful whining.”
“It’s your voice you’ve been listening to.” Bjorn grinned. “It does sound like a petulant child.”
“You really do want to discover what I will do to Tyra, don’t you?” Grímr flicked his wrist, and one of his men ran forward.
Tyra did not even flinch when she plunged her knife into his groin and pressed down on the hilt. Blood blossomed across the man’s leather pants.
“She cut off my cock,” the man wailed.
“Shall I take off your balls too?” Tyra did not wait for an answer before plunging her knife into the man’s belly. She pulled the knife free and ran her tongue against the flat side of the blade. She forced herself not to throw up, but she would make her point.
“She’s crazy.”
“Bloodthirsty wench.”
“Nae worth having ma cock lopped off.”
“I dinna need that cunny.”
The whispers and comments rippled through the men just as Tyra intended. She wiped her knife across the dead man’s shirt before tossing and spinning the knife, catching it at the last minute. She did it several times as she passed her glance over the men who assembled around Grímr. She licked her lips and tilted her head to the side. Tyra raised her brows before smiling seductively.
“She is Rán,” muttered one of the Norsemen. “We’re not at sea, but she would pull us into the depths and to our death. She is the sea goddess come to kill us.”
Tyra’s grin spread as she licked her lips again and bit her bottom lip. She had been unable to avoid the rumors ever since she was a child, and she had hated them. Not only did they discount her real parents, they were not kind gods. Rán and her husband Ægir drew sailors to their death. Ægir was responsible for the storms that pulled men from their boats, and Rán captured them only to drag the sailors to their feasting hall at the bottom of the seas. It was the opposite of Valhalla. She was aware people spoke of her natural ability when they mentioned the two sea gods, but until that moment, she despised them. Now, she intended to make the most of it.
“Perhaps I am. Perhaps you have caught me and my husband Ægir. Do you trust us not to kill you?”
“Ridiculous,” Grímr grunted. “We are nowhere near the sea.”
“And that make you think there’s a limit to a goddess’s power? Perhaps I am Loki.”
“You are a woman,” called another Norseman.
“So you say. Has that ever stopped me before? Did Odin and I not bear and suckle babes?” Tyra referred to a tale that told the story of how both Odin and Loki shapeshifted into women to not only bear babes, but to also nurse them. The tale also said Loki shapeshifted into a mare to bear Odin’s steed, which became the fastest horse to ever live. Tyra would play upon their superstitions, even if her mind considered the tales to be ridiculous exaggerations.
Bjorn tried not to laugh as he watched the Norsemen become more and more uncomfortable as Tyra spun her story. He did not enjoy her arousing smiles and taunts, but he understood what she was doing. Bjorn wished she reserved them for him alone, but pettiness and jealousy would not keep them alive. He admired her creativity and quick thinking even though she did not appreciate the comparisons to the sea god and goddess, and he did not want to be likened to Ægir, but Tyra shrugged as she continued goading the men. She turned her attention to the Highlanders. Bjorn realized it was their turn to receive her trickery and manipulation. He listened as she wondered aloud if she might be a kelpie, some other shapeshifting creature from the sea that the Highlanders believed in. She pointed to her eyes which blended blue and green into a beautiful hazel, but she used it to insinuate it was the mark of the fae. Bjorn noticed the superstitions did not affect the Highlanders as much as the threat of vengeful gods did the Norsemen, but several were growing restless and looking around. He caught himself before he choked when he watched Tyra turn her attention back to Grímr and ask him if he would like to learn how he would die.
“Sigrid told me. Aren’t you just a bit curious to find out what the runes told her? Perhaps you could better prepare. It is rather messy.”
“I don’t fear death.”
“Is that why you hide like a little girl whenever you must fight us?” She asked, innocence dripping from her words. “Or has a seer already told you when you will die, and you don’t want to alter fate?”
“We all die when Nornir decides it is our time. The day I was born predestined by fate. I have no reason to fear death.”
Tyra nodded, looking speculatively at Grímr. “Very well. If you say so, but I would decide which of these men will take over from you before tomorrow.”
A ripple of whispers spread through the men who continued to watch Tyra and Bjorn.
“Haven’t you told the men who’ll lead them after you die?” She swept her gaze across them. “I suppose that means any of you might be the next leader. The conqueror who gets all the spoils. But then, if Grímr hasn’t told you who to follow, what will you do if someone tries to usurp your power?”
Tyra looked at each man, making him feel as if she spoke to only him. If attempting to scare them with threats of the gods’ wrath or devious faeries did not work, then she would plant seeds of malcontent.
“What if Grímr dies before he pays you? Has he told you where he keeps the gold he promised you? Do any of you know? What if the man he intends to lead after him decides not share the wealth?” She looked back at Grímr as if she hoped to sink the last of his ships. “If he dies, and you don’t get paid, do you have a reason to fight? I wouldn’t go another day without getting the last of my promised pay. Otherwise you might never get it.”
Bjorn snickered as he watched Tyra’s tactic stir every man until they were buzzing like a hive of angry hornets. She had appealed to or scared every man who stood behind Grímr. She had created dissent, and Grímr snapped at them, but he failed to silence them.
“Bind and gag them!” He ordered the men who still surrounded them.
Tyra slashed at the men who attempted to seize her, but three of them overpowered her, forcing her to the ground. The other four men struggled until they pushed Bjorn to the ground beside Tyra. They held knives at the ready when they ordered Bjorn to put his shirt and boots back on. They had a rope coiled around them and their feet bound before they had an opportunity to struggle to their feet. Bjorn kicked one man in the groin who dared rub his cock in front of Tyra. Their captors were quick to get them gagged and pinned down. The men hurried to back away from the hissing and snarling couple, but they forgot to bind either of their wrists. Bjorn slid his hand over Tyra’s and squeezed it. She rested her head against Bjorn’s back. She did not dare close her eyes for longer than a blink, but she relaxed a little when his solid frame propped her up. His other hand reached back to entwine their fingers. Tyra knew the angle must have been a strain on him, but the comfort he offered was too dear to give up. She shifted to make them both more comfortable. Bjorn’s thumbs swept over her hands as she squeezed them back.
Tyra & Bjorn (Viking Glory Book 3) Page 11