She undid the ties of his fur cloak and let it fall onto the beach.
With their eyes still locked, she let his arms rise and pulled his tunic up, revealing his powerful body. Her heart beat faster, and she ran her fingers down his chest muscles, to his ripped stomach. As she approached the line of his trousers, he sucked in a breath. She began planting slow, feathery kisses on the trail her fingers had just taken, marveling at the beauty and strength of him. She worshiped his body, loving him with every touch.
His hands, buried in her hair, stiffened as her lips came close to the line of his trousers. She realized this must be new for him, to let her lead. He did not stop her this time, like he had last night. Her chest tightened till she almost ached.
“You are in good hands,” she whispered against his navel, moving to kneel before him on the fallen cloak.
Surrounded by mountains that rose into the sky-like walls, with the mirror of the fjord, the thick woods—with the whole world going still and quiet—her words sounded like a spell, like a vow, and Sigurd’s fingers relaxed ever so slightly. It was barely noticeable and yet it told Donna everything.
She undid his trousers and let them fall. His erection sprung free and glorious. She planted a kiss on his tip, and he moaned and started shaking.
She realized how much trust he was putting in her, and how fragile that thread was between them. This mighty Viking who could squeeze her to death, break her bones if he chose to, who was never separated from his ax and who commanded and protected dozens of people, trembled before her, showing her—and only her—his vulnerability.
His trust.
She planted another wet kiss on the tip of his erection, and another tremble went through him.
This was new for her, too. She had given blow jobs a couple of times but never enjoyed it, always feeling inferior and used.
But now, she felt the opposite—powerful and loving and giving, like a goddess—and a Viking trembled waiting for her next move, fully in her hands.
So strong and so fragile.
“You are the most magnificent man I’ve ever seen,” she whispered and heard him catch a breath. Then she wrapped her lips around his tip, gently enveloping it in her mouth and welcoming it with her tongue.
He groaned, the hard muscles of his hips bulging under her fingers. His cock swelled and jerked slightly. She gently sucked, and he let out a growl. She took him in deeper and sucked a little harder, encouraged by his reaction. The sensation of his velvety skin gliding in her mouth and his hardness against her tongue heated up her veins like liquid fire.
“What are you doing to me,” he grunted through his teeth.
She only moaned against him.
“Your mouth…” He started to thrust gently.
She took him deeper, started sucking faster and harder, drunk from the power she had over him and the pleasure she gave him.
“Ah, Freyja, oh gods…” he moaned. “I won’t last long…”
Donna almost smiled against him. She wanted him to have everything, to show him that she was ready to give without wanting anything in return.
He stiffened. “If you don’t want me to spill, you better stop now.”
Donna only stroked his length with her tongue in response.
Sigurd panted now, grunting but holding his voice back. He accelerated his thrusts into her mouth. They became almost violent now, but she took everything he gave. And with a few final thrusts, his seed spilled against her throat, salty and primal. Her insides clenched at the feeling of his release.
“Donna,” he moaned her name like a plea. She took everything in without flinching, every last drop of him precious and dear.
She pulled her head back too look at him and he fell to his knees, holding on to her shoulders for support. His forehead fell to hers, and he panted.
Donna’s body buzzed from unfulfilled desire, the intensity of the experience, and love that radiated from her heart.
Her Viking, this big and powerful man, in her hands. Right by her heart.
Sigurd raised his chin and met her eyes. His were still clouded but shone with softness—and also something new. Confidence, or maybe peace. He looked younger, as if he’d just woken up from a deep sleep.
The significance of what had just happened melted something in her chest. She’d passed the test. He’d begun trusting her, even if just a little bit.
And she knew that she needed to trust him in return.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Donna’s head lay on Sigurd’s shoulder, her placid, soft body pressed against his side. And, despite himself, a feeling of peace spread through his muscles where their skin connected. He played with her golden hair.
What she had just done to him—what he had just allowed her to do—this must be how the gods felt in Asgard every day. Free, and high, and drunk. The moment when he’d opened up to her, as he’d never opened up to anyone else in the world, had been like jumping into the abyss.
And she’d caught him.
The night hid them well now in the darkness, but it wouldn’t last longer than a couple of hours. Not that he planned to sleep much at all.
“I can’t stand men like you,” Donna said. Sigurd froze. Anger flushed through his body in a wave of heat, and he tried to calm himself. Had he heard her wrong?
“What did you say?”
“I fight men like you every day. Guys who like to put women in their place, who take away women’s jobs or don’t give them jobs only because they are women. Men who don’t think women should play an important role, take charge or, God forbid, do something significant.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. Surely, those men had a reason to disregard women. He did. His shoulders ached from tension. He shifted, to break contact with her and contradict her, but she did not notice and continued.
“But I am also afraid of men like you,” her voice lowered to a whisper, and he frowned. Fear was no small thing to admit. “My mother raised me alone. She is a beautiful woman. Smart. She always wanted me to be independent, to think with my own mind so that no man would be able to break my spirit. Like hers.”
Sigurd could not imagine anyone or anything being able to break Donna’s spirit. Her eyes shone in the moonlight, watching the night in front of her.
“His name was Joseph, and he was my mother’s only serious relationship. I was six years old. He used to lock me up in my bedroom at night so that I wouldn’t bother my mother and him. I couldn’t even go to the bathroom. I still remember him as that big, tall man with the stern face who always ordered my mother around and told me to go play in my room. He was a lawyer in the firm where she had worked. Same level, same experience. He got my mother’s promotion only because he was a man and she was a woman. Then they fired her because she’d allegedly sexually harassed him. In reality, he just wanted to cover his backside because office romances were a no-go,” Donna’s voice shook. “She never could find work again in Manhattan. She had such a great career in front of her. If not for him, she’d have been named a partner long ago in some kick-ass firm.”
Some of her words made no sense to Sigurd. But he understood that the man had done a similar thing to her mother that Vigdis had done to him and his father. Betrayal united Donna and him—across time and across distance.
“Some people plant rotten seeds in us, and we let them,” Sigurd said. “Joseph did that to you.”
Donna breathed out, tears welled in her eyes. She met his gaze. “And Vigdis—to you.”
He nodded, bitterness coiling in his stomach.
Donna continued. “And Daniel did to me what Joseph did to my mother.”
Sigurd’s fists clenched. He did not know Daniel, but he was ready to cut his heart out and throw it to the crows. Donna was too, by the looks of her. With her golden hair, her body taut and her face burning with an emotion that resembled battle-fury, she could be a Valkyrie.
“He did not take my promotion or anything like that. But he did make me see a future with him
and almost abandon everything I stood for—my independence, fighting for women’s rights, and the law. Everything. And then he threw me away like a used napkin.”
“Odin help me, the man would be long dead had I known him.”
Donna let out a chuckle mixed with a sob and relaxed a little. “Yeah. There were times I wished that, too. Since then—well, since Joseph, but especially since Daniel—I just could not keep my cool if I had an opponent that reminded me of either of them. An alpha male.” She quickly glanced at him and blushed. “Like you.”
Silence hung heavy between them.
“Are you comparing me to those two piles of cow turds?”
Donna rose on her elbow. Her soft breast brushed against his skin, so full and delicious, sending desire through his body.
“I’m not! I mean, you are the same type of man. You command, and you expect everyone to jump at your every word, and you certainly discriminate against women.”
Sigurd ground his teeth. “I have never betrayed a woman in my life. If anything, I was too soft with Vigdis and protected my mother. And everything I do is to protect my people, even if I forbid women to do certain things. It’s all for the better of the village. Do not dare to put me in the same boat as those two maggots.”
Donna lay her hand on his chest, and a wave of tingles spread through the place where their skin touched. “I don’t, Sigurd. Not anymore.”
Not anymore. Sigurd’s nostrils flared at the thought that she could ever have assumed anything like that about him before. But then again, he had accused her of things, too.
“Sigurd, I never told any of this to anyone. I don’t even think I admitted it to myself.”
The tension in Sigurd’s stomach softened. He drew her to him. The connection between them, being here on the edge of the fjord, shielded by the mountains and witnessed by the sky, it was like the gods wanted them to come together. He wanted her. He needed her now. She’d poured her heart out to him, just as he had done, and he wanted to show her that the empty, raw space inside of her was safe.
He kissed her, his hands traveling down her back, which curved like the most beautiful longship. He rolled her onto her back and covered her with his body, still devouring her mouth. Liquid heat radiated from where their lips touched, soft brushes of her sleek tongue made him moan into her mouth.
But just as he was about to indulge in her breasts, gravel rustled next to him.
Sigurd drew himself up, his hand shooting to where his ax lay—but a booted foot stood on the long handle. Sigurd shielded Donna, who gasped. He hooked the man’s ankle with one foot and kicked him under the knee with the other. The man fell back, and Sigurd pinned him to the ground, his ax pressed against the man’s throat.
“Donna, stay back,” he barked, then turned to the man. “Who are you?”
“Lord, I mean no harm. Your sister sent me.”
“Harm and my sister always come together.”
“She sent me with a message.” The man’s hand struggled to move under Sigurd, but he held him tight. “She gave me something for you… If you just let me take it out of my travel purse…”
“Do you take me for a fool? Do not move a finger.”
Sigurd searched the man with one hand. As his fingers came across a sword, an ax and a scramasax, he removed each weapon and threw it far away. He found a purse and tossed it to Donna.
“See what is in there.”
She was already dressed and caught the purse, her eyes wide. She began rummaging, removed a small leather pouch and opened it. She revealed a tiny wooden figure. “I think it’s a fox.”
“Let me see,” Sigurd stretched out a hand, and Donna hurried to give the object to him. It was indeed a little carved wooden fox that used to be Vigdis’s favorite toy. Sigurd had carved it for her. It had been her amulet of luck and well-being.
A dull ache ran through Sigurd’s chest. “What is the message?”
“Fuldarr has almost gathered an army. He will attack soon. Very soon.”
The blood left Sigurd’s face and body. Already? They were not prepared. The fortress would not be built on time.
“Why should I trust you?”
“My name is Bjarni Bjarnison, lord. I am loyal to your sister. She was kind to me, and I swore to protect her.” The man’s voice deepened as he spoke, and Sigurd saw tenderness in his eyes. Did Bjarni love his sister? Did she love him? Sigurd frowned and studied the man.
Bjarni continued. “I saw them with my own eyes. Five dragonships came, all full of men.”
Cold sweat dripped down Sigurd’s spine. Five dragonships could contain between twenty and thirty dozen warriors. He only had fifty men.
They were doomed.
Vigdis’s lover or not, the man could not be trusted. He still could be a spy. Sigurd grabbed the edge of the Bjarni’s tunic and tore a long piece. He tied the man’s hands behind him and bound his legs with another piece.
“Jarl, I am not lying. Odin knows, you should not mistreat the messenger who may have just saved you.”
Sigurd tore another piece and put it into the man’s mouth.
“Shut up. Let me think.”
“Sigurd, you must—” Donna said.
“Let me think, Donna!”
She closed her mouth, a frown on her face. Odin help him, the man had either just brought news of sure death or was Fuldarr’s spy.
How long did they have? Five dragonships was already an army. Was Fuldarr waiting for more, or was he already on his way? In either case, Sigurd’s fifty men wouldn’t stand a chance. With the current condition of the fortress, it would be a slaughter.
There was not a moment to waste. They’d need to double their efforts. Triple. Build even at night. Build now.
Sigurd started putting on his trousers in haste. He’d go wake up the men, and they’d start building again.
“Sigurd, what are you planning to do?” Donna said.
“Build the fortress, what else?” He removed the ties on Bjarni’s ankles, grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up. He needed to lock the man up. “No spying around for you, Bjarnison.”
The man mumbled something through the gag. Sigurd shoved him and went towards the great longhouse holding Bjarni by the upper arm. It was too bad the man might be a spy. Sigurd could use his him on the construction site.
“Sigurd, you have to let the women help,” Donna said, hurrying after him.
Sigurd clenched his teeth. Something in him had shifted. He trusted Donna. But, although the women had done good work today, it was only a matter of time before they made mistakes. And those mistakes could kill them all. “Out of the question.”
“Out of the question? Be reasonable! You won’t make it without more workers.”
“We will. We will build day and night, pause only when it’s full dark. The boys will stop combat training and help build. The women can bring food. We’ll sleep in shifts. We’ll work faster.”
“You are not serious! This plan is absolutely insane. You can’t function like this for days.”
“We will make a sacrifice to Odin and Tyr, the god of battle, and ask the gods for help.”
Donna snorted. “The gods! Don’t get me started. Even if the gods exist, where is the guarantee that they’ll help you? You’ll be exhausted by the time Fuldarr gets here. How will you fight?”
Sigurd clenched his teeth till his jawbones ached. The reminder of his confession brought heat to his face. She was right, he must have gone insane for a minute when something drove him to tell her about his biggest pain. Or maybe she’d cast some spell on him. He should not have done it. He needed to stay strong. Logical. The way he’d operated his whole life worked. Donna was a temporary distraction, a disruption, and she would be gone soon. “What do you know about our ways? You are an outsider.”
Donna blinked, an expression of shock on her face. Her voice breaking she said, “After everything you just told me?”
Guilt stung him. He knew he must have hurt her, but he had to save
his people. “Just stay out of this. No more tricks, no more women’s riots. Bring me food and water to the construction site from time to time, like every woman whose man works on the fortress will. There’s nothing more that you can do.”
Donna’s eyes blazed with fury in the darkness.
“Watch me.” She turned and walked to the great hall without waiting for him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
As Donna marched towards Asa’s home, she fumed with anger. She could not believe him. Stubborn man! He had opened up to her, and she’d thought he’d changed, but at the first sign of trouble he’d reverted back to his default setting. And now he was pushing her away.
Fine.
If he thought she’d watch the men drive themselves to early graves and bring him food like an obedient little servant, he was an even bigger idiot than she’d thought.
Donna stopped before the door to Asa’s longhouse. The faint smell of woodsmoke reached her nose. Unlike in many of the other houses, Asa’s door had no gaps between the weathered planks. Floki had undoubtedly repaired them under Asa’s supervision. Donna felt guilty to wake her up, but if Sigurd wanted to act now, so would she.
Donna decided against knocking, no need to wake the whole household. She opened the door—marveling that the Norsemen did not even bother locking their homes—and stepped into the house without a sound. The embers of the long hearth glowed in the darkness, barely illuminating the silhouettes lying on benches that ran along the walls. People wheezed in their sleep, a couple of men snored like engines.
Donna found Asa curled together with Floki in the furthest corner of the room. She touched the woman’s shoulder, the linen of her shift warm under Donna’s fingertips. Asa jerked up, and her hand shot under her pillow, probably for a weapon.
“Asa, it’s Donna.”
She froze, her eyes squinting from sleep. “What is it?”
“I need your help.” Donna hesitated. Would she betray Sigurd if she told Asa the news of the attack? Everyone would know in a few hours anyway. And she needed to act. “Sigurd got a message from Vigdis. Fuldarr has gathered troops and is about to attack us.”
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